Home is where your friends are

Saturday night and I'm checking my Facebook before I hop into bed to discover - much to my surprise - a sister request. A smile covers my face and I have tears in my eyes.

I am not a person prone to proclaim being part of a clique nor do I declare being someone's sister on social media but this request goes way back. It made me wonder how come our bond is soo strong?

We met in our early teens. One boy wanted to go out with me and his best friend was dating my best friend. However, when the romance was all over two weeks later, the three of us somehow stuck together. Together we went through some pretty important stages in our lives and eventhough we are not part of each others every day routine anymore, I do believe what binds us, are our childhood memories. Litte did we know that they would be so strong as to accompany us into our 50s!

Two months ago, I received an SMS out of the blue from Swiss Boy, the Swissest of my two buddies stating: "Through all these years, you two are the only constants in my life. Thanks for being there." Needless to say I was reaching for a hankie.

Today, I receive a request from my Cool Tiger buddy asking me to be his sister! It might seem silly to some but I am touched... deeply so. I never realised quite how much our bond ment to these two boys, I figured it was my female instinct that cherished this friendship beyond borders.

It was I who travelled far and wide only to come back to my roots - rarely but religiously - and celebrate our friendship over a dinner à trois. I made a point of giving them hell when they didn't visit me, after I finally moved down the road (because Lugano is literally next door to Zürich compared to Buenos Aires), I send them Christmas updates every year, I have their photo in my living room...

...but today I know - more than ever - that home is where your friends are, not only a place where you grew up! And home is also where your heart is and mine is definately with them as theirs is with me! So, yes my dear friend, I am honoured to call you my brother! Both of you!

He's simply unbeatable...

It wasn't just a simple trip to the hairdressers, it was an outing to discover Luis' new beauty salon. Luis, the hair stylist (because THAT'S what he is), tall and charismatic but above all professional with the right touch of creativity.

My Colombian friend has come a very long way and by the look of his face this morning, all the hardship along the path was worth it.

The entire gang of what my husband calls the-sex-in-the-city-girls have been following Luis from the little family-run hair salon where he started his career in Spain over a decade ago. We all drove out of our way and religiously kept our appointments in the up-beat studio a few years later. He does wonders with my thin, bristly hair and produces miracles with my Latina girlfriends' hair.

So today, the master of beauty and style proudly showed me around his own studio. Bright, white, modern, funky and sleek with warm touches of infused light and colour here and there. 

But it didn't stop here. I did not only have one or two but FOUR people attending my every wish. I nearly slipped off into la la land while my head was being massaged at the same time as my hands as well as enjoying the built-in seat massage. What more could a girl ask for? Seriously! I hate to admit though, that the men were more professional than the ladies!

The cherry on the cake is that the entire princess treatment cost one third of what I would have paid in Paris! Therefrore I am seriously considering taking a day off next month to hop on an easyjet flight to Madrid JUST to have my hair cut. Wanna join me?

Expat friendship at its best

It was the year 2004, we had just moved to Madrid. A mum turned to me in the school playground and said: "I love the colour tone of your lipstick." These are the kind of little sentences that stick in your mind years after you have relocated to a new place. Comments by people who are practically strangers and with eight little (superficial if you will) words make you feel so much better and turn into friends for life. That's all it took.

Today - ten years down the lane - around a birthday table of what my daughter would define as BFFs, my friend turned to me and said the same thing, and nearly had me in tears. Looking around I found myself having lunch with ten ladies I had met ten years ago and each had a special place in my heart.

During the past decade, we had seen each other through good times and bad, some had moved only to come back, some had stayed put and some of us were visiting but here we were reunited as if we'd just seen each other yesterday at school drop-off and the volume of the lunch conversation could have topped a Ricky Martin concert!

So, when I came home to read an article about the Expat cycle by a fellow blogger, I only smiled and thought she is right about how your friends become your expat family. “It’s the one family you actually get to choose. That’s what makes it so good”.

It was as if we had never left each other. The only real change is that my shade of lipstick has evolved from bright pink to dark purple!

A claustrophobic experience

It was bound to happen sooner or later. All those museum visits over the past 30 months and every single one had something that struck me, tickeled my fancy, intrigued me, left me gobsmacked, enlightened me, made me smile. Each one was food for thought and - as Parisians do - material for discussion over dinner. Every exhibit was worth it's money, after all I live in Paris, la capital de la mode et de la culture until...

... last week, after dropping Expat girl off at her drama rehearsal I took myself off to yet another late night expedition, this time to Bill Viola's exhibit at the Grand Palais.

I happily strolled through the entrance to find myself surrounded by a pitch black chamber. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. The space was devided into smaller box-shaped compartments all more or less dark. Strange grunting noises came from one room on videos unfolding at a meditative pace while a breathless man was grasping for air on a screen in another. Dog fangs were springing towards me in one cube while in another video a man and a woman were slapping each other. I just skipped the last partition entirely, choosing not to watch people holding their breath underwater.

Bill Viola might be the most celebrated exponent of video art tempting to express his emotional and spiritual journey through great metaphysical themes - life, death and transfiguration - but as far as I am concerned it was the most haunting, disturbing and claustrophobic experience I have ever had in a museum.

Not even worth discussing over dinner...

There's no place like Switzerland for Easter munchies...

Stuck between two worlds...

Art Nouveau in the 16th Arrondisement

I've been hopping on and off the metro for nearly three years now. I have admired the green iron metro signs, railings and light posts but never bothered to go beyond.

This week, I was given the opportunity to explore my hood, i.e. the chic residential Parisian neighbourhood and understand how architecture has evolved from the influence of pioneering works such as the Fondation Le Corbusier (little did I know it was in my back yard, so to speak...) and the Art Nouveau movement in France.

In fact, it was in Paris in 1895 that this burgeoning style found a home at the Maison de l’Art Nouveau – and it was here the movement found its name. Thanks to a grand exhibition at Paris’ 1900 Exposition Universelle, Art Nouveau’s popularity soon went global.

Apparently, the 16th district developed in the 19th century as a leafy residential suburb for Paris, and was annexed in 1860. It is famous for its variety of attractive and imaginatively designed houses, several of which were by Hector Guimard, designer of the famous Paris metro exits in 1900, which look like undulating plant forms. Well, I am now that bit wiser!

With its swirling forms, intertwining patterns and fluid motifs, Art Nouveau is a style synonymous with Paris, and one that perfectly sums up the city’s timeless elegance and artistic verve. In the late 19th century artists rebelled against the linear, restrictive forms of classical art, architecture and design, turning instead to nature for organic inspiration.

During our tour, we studied the functional poetry of the facades of the Hotel Mezzara and the Castel Beranger, both designed by M.Guimard, and some excellent examples of avant-garde villas by Robert Mallet-Stevens, a contemporary of Le Corbusier, in the modern style of the early 20th century.

They tell me Chez Maxim's is a veritable museum of Art Nouveau design. I have yet to check out what was once the haunt of Paris’ courtesans and remains a Paris institution.

Jogging through the park one morning...

One sunny morning in April, running through the Bois de Boulogne, minding my own business, absorbed in my chick-lit audiobook, looking out for my friends - les Saveurs Pompiers - avoiding the endless dog poop, stearing clear from the Parisiennes with their handsome personal trainers, running by the tired-looking courtesans, admiring the bright yellow tulips along my track, enjoying the sunshine reflecting from the water, breathing the crisp morning air, thinking of my next bar of chocolate I will devour later in the day... what do I bump into ... but a ski lift cabin... parked litterally across my path!!! Goes to show: in Paris anything goes!

Around the world for lunch

It's the time of year again when the children's school makes a point of honouring the world's cultures in a day long festivity. With spring, along comes the rush of organising International Day. Over 60 nations are represented in the student body. If you're thinking this sounds like the United Nations, I assure you that pick-up at Primary School certainly feels like it.

Parents, children, and teachers from all four corners of the globe prepare for days, sometime weeks for this special day where the smells of International cuisine permeate the halls and the sounds of music drift out of classrooms. The campus bustles with activity, laughter and friendship. Every nation displays national customs, food, and items of interest with pride. Some are more popular than others for obvious reasons. We all love the US s'mores, the Italian pizza and the Japanese sushi but Brazil beats them all. They actually serve Caipirinha, Brazil's national cocktail, made with cachaça, sugar and lime, a big hit with the adults. Spain are not far behind with their red wine and Jamon Iberico. No, the Russians were not serving caviar - unfortunately - but exquisite bubliks. I tasted the Malay dish nasi lemak, was tempted by the Filipino adobo and munched out with Australian frog in the pond.

You're wondering which nation I was representing? Italy, of course, by special request of my children. Also, it would be hard to make Raclette for 600 people all by myself.

I am still waiting for the Swiss Family Robinson to arrive and give me a hand...

Paris in the springtime

An often overlooked museum

Having tasted the Musée Jacquemart-André by night, my curiosity was peaked and I wanted more. I signed up for one of Mona's tours with Paris Walks and joined Cherise for an outstanding tour of the history and the gossip of this Parisian mansion.

Long terrace steps and a pair of stone lions usher visitors into this grand 19th-century mansion, home to a collection of objets d'art and fine paintings.This is a sumptuous townhouse with a collection made by wealthy art lovers, the banker Edouard André, and his wife, the painter Nelie Jacquemart.

The collection includes priceless 18th C furnishings: tapestries, furniture, all displayed in family rooms,  and superb paintings by some of the great artists such as Rembrandt, Van Dyck, Fragonard, David, Vigée Lebrun and Reynolds. In the upper galleries you can admire the works they amassed from the early Italian Renaissance, which are a testimony to the charm of this period. Uccello, Donatello, Botticelli just to mention a few. The house itself is spectacular in it’s own right with ballroom, minstrels’ gallery, Nelie’s studio, a breathtaking double spiral staircase, and the family dining room.

On the opening of the Hôtel André in 1876, an article in the magazine L'Illustration reported: “amazement at the enchanting ball given by Mr André. There is no more admirable setting. All the famous names from the world of fashion and elegance were there. They all shone with the same brilliance."
“Nothing was lacking to make Mr André’s ball one of those sensational events whose magnificence marks our era. The walls of the two entrance rooms, the cloakroom and the vestibule, disappeared under a scented curtain of violets and camellias. The gold decorations of the double ballroom flowed, sparkling under the blaze of a thousand candles."

Need I add more, it is definately worth a detour off the all too trodden Champs Elysées.

Never a quiet moment...

People ask me how I come up with something to post every day. Well, I've got news for you. I live in Paris, there is ALWAYS something to write home about.

Take today, instead of undertaking my usual jog through the Bois de Boulogne, I decided to take a break and run some errands instead, unfortunately the Chinese president had decided on the same route as I.

After dropping off Expat girl at school, I hopped onto the metro towards the Champs Elysées. Upon emerging from underground with millions of other Parisians who were on their way to work, I realized Paris' most famous avenue had been cut off to all traffic. Not even pedestrians were allowed to cross the road.

Lots of French flags were waiving up and down the eight lanes, each one flanked by a Chinese flag. Yes, the French are real good at waving flags.

Well, commuters in Paris were left furious today when authorities closed no less than 13 Metro stations during the morning rush hour for citing security reasons for the state visit of Chinese President Xi Jinping. Paris’s transport authority provided almost no advance notice of the closures, and needless to say Parisians were NOT happy.

I, on the other hand - strolling along the sidewalk - was struck by one thing: the silence! It was a serene feeling to walk along la plus belle avenue du monde (as the French like to call it) and take in the stillness of the moment.

It might be ironic that Paris transport authorities close Metro stations on a day when pollution levels are rising again but I would like to say thank you for this delicate moment of serenity. How do you say thank you in Chinese?

Paris is our home

So, it looks like we're in it for the long haul, meaning it seems that my husband will continue to be based in Paris for a few more years. This is the third time we have settled in the city of lights and the last two times we couldn't get away fast enough, to the point where my hubby changed company some years back in order NOT to move back to Paris.

They say everything good comes in threes. We got lured into coming back to Paris and left Switzerland three years ago to face the music. And here we are, not only singing with the music but dancing to it as well.

I admit this assignment has been one of the easier ones. We had lived here before, we both speak French, we know the system (which doesn't mean we always understand it) and most of all we are familiar with the French. Actually, upon my arrival I was positively surprised, the Parisian have become more approachable over the past ten years, I would not go as far as to use the word friendly, however.

In any case, with pre-adolecent children, the city does have a great deal to offer. No more lugging strollers down the staircases into the metro, no more prams being stolen in the inner courtyard, no more groceries being lugged up to the top floor because we now live in a building with an elevator! We DO hear the neighbours above us stomp across the floor, we KNOW which TV programme our neighbour below is watching (because we can hear it!) and when we switch on our WiFi we need to triple check which one on the list of 20 servers is ours.

All in all, Paris has become home. I never thought I'd say - let alone write - this, but we HAVE settled in. A few days ago I came across a family calendar from when we first moved to France. Needless to say all four of us were smiling on every single shot but somehow you could tell the smiles were tense and in no way natural. We were so determined to make this move work and so preoccupied with digging a new nest that we could call home, knowing that nothing could ever fill the void we all felt when leaving Switzerland.

Comparing it to this year's family calendar (yes, I do make one every year and send it to all our relatives!) where we all look totally relaxed and at ease with our environment, it is a big relief to see that even the kids have come around to the point were - in some ways - Paris is even better than Lugano.

It took a long time but - as always - we have forged ourselves a home. It's a cliché but after all: "Home is where your heart is"... and mine is right here with my family!

A 90 minute fashion treat

What do you do when you drop your daughter off at drama class and the lesson is too long to hang around and wait but too short to go home and return? Hey, living in Paris you pop into a museum, of course!

I had been invited to join a guided tour of Musée Galliera's exhibition "Papier glacé" tonight, but the event organizer called me three times yesterday just to let me know all the spaces had been filled. I guess organization is not his forte.

This was not to stop me, however. I took the short walk through the fancy 8th arrondissement after dropping off Expat girl and strode into the the 'Beaux-Arts' style building constructed by nobody lesser than the company belonging to Gustave Eiffel.

The exhibit drew on the archives of Condé Nast New York, Paris, Milan and London, bringing together some 150 mostly original prints from leading fashion photographers from 1918 through to the present day.

I came across the guided tour and meandered around the group to hear what the lady had to say. Frankly, I learned more from the explanatory texts on the walls. It made me realize how briliant my friend Mona's tours are and makes me appreciate them even more.

The best part? This fashion treat came at the cost of only 8 Euros entrance fee!

My absolute favourite picture was Norman Parkinson's shot for British Vogue 1957 showing the bumper-to-bumper portrait of a Rover 105 S especially sprayed for Vogue in fuchsia.

No matter where you turn, you'll always spot he Eiffel Tower

The streetside facade gives onto a paved courtyard bordered by a semicircular Ionic peristyle

Vive la Journée internationale de la francophonie!

Enrolled in an International school and therefore honouring diversity, my kids celebrate everything from the Chinese New Year to the Diwali, from Purim to Halloween, from St.Patrick's Day to Santa Lucia. However, working closer with the French department lately, it struck me that we were not celebrating our host country. We are all on vacation during France's National Day July 14th and I wonder how many kids would know what the La Marseillaise is.

Trying to raise more French awareness, I had a brainwave during a meeting and suggested a French Day. Not expecting much reaction, but nevertheless, always the obtrusive mum ready to come up with ideas and suggestions.

Sitting at my desk a while later that day, what do I read on one of the French news blogs? The following week was to be "La semaine de la langue françaises" with the March 20th marking La Journée internationale de la francophonie. I couldn't have planned it better myself!

A quick e-mail to the school's language coordinator and tomorrow all the Primary kids will be marching to school dressed in red, white and blue showing off their best French skills throughout the day.

A big bravo to the school for having taken the initiative onboard so rapidly and marked it in their scholastic's calendar as a yearly institution. We are after all living in Paris.

One teacher actually wrote back to me and called me an Eclaireur. To be honest, I had to google that and thereby have learnt a new word today. Merci Madame. A free translation I have come across is: “L’Eclaireur, is to go ahead, to be in what will come, to dare, to dis­turb, it is the duty always to seduce, always to sur­prise”.

This is just the beginning towards a more focused and active French department, I hope!