There’s a magic you forget, when you live in a touristy town. I live two blocks from the Eiffel Tower, and a 10 minute walk to the Seine River. Some people save money for their whole lives awaiting to simply visit this town, and take their obligatory photos. And in the midst of everyday life: days that are too hot you just want to stay indoors, or days you have too many errands to do, or days you just are feeling down, you forget the majesty that lies outdoors. I try to remind myself that. It’s still less than eight months that I have lived here, and I am aware my time is limited.
I go to the Champ de Mars daily now, which is my closest dog park. I notice the tourists, as they dress in their finest and pose for outlandish photos in front of the La Tour Eiffel. Some try to look sexy with flowing dresses and high slits, cheesy with making peace signs, some jump in the air, or have accessories such as a bicycle held high in their arms. And I watch their glee, as the moment is captured.
But what is interesting I find in the park, is the routine. The same people who walk in the park at the allotted golden hour before the sun exudes too much heat. There is the lady with a tan hat who walks laps with a cane getting her steps in, a yoga teacher who takes her studio outside for visiting tourists, a retired couple who work out daily, the staff members that keep the park clean, the homeless person who takes in a nap, and all of the dogs and their owners. I don’t know any of these people, and have talked to few of them. But they have become familiar, and in a town of strangers, the familiarity has become something I’ve learned to find most beautiful about this city. And the irony is that this exists in every city, if you are patient, walk the same paths, and observe closely enough. You can witness beauty unfolding all around you.
“To acquire knowledge, one must study; but to acquire wisdom, one must observe. “Marilyn vos Savant
Since Puzo has died, I have been making an effort to take my other dog Bella to the park at least once a day. I realized I limited our walks over the past few months, because Puzo’s ability to walk was limited. We only could use a stroller with him, and the heaviness of it made the process an ordeal. But I still managed the Champ de Mars park several times a week (particularly in the nicer weather). If we didn’t take these excursions, Puzo could only make it to the tiny alley we lived on. That was not inspirational. I began to take Bella out separately, yet these walks were limited.
Life adjusts to those you must care for, and I simply accepted this was our phase. But now he is gone, I am being more intentional with Bella. There is guilt for not being more present with her before due to the care and attention that was needed for Puzo, but I am making up for that now. It’s easy to get sucked into the sadness and depression that comes with loss, but the day Puzo died my mom reminded me « you must be there for Bella. » And so I am trying.
At the park today, I witnessed a beautiful simple moment. The sky was a cloudless blue, and a young woman was playing with her German shephard. He had puppy energy. She brought a massive bubble set, to blow bubbles and allow her dog to chase it. But she did not do this freely, it was only his reward after he sat down. There is something so innocent about bubbles. They are full of wonder for children, adults, and even dogs. We chase these ephemeral irridescent shapes, wanting to embrace the beauty they momentarily offer.
Later in the afternoon, I walked Bella to the pet store. I was going to return a bag of specialized dog food I never got to open for Puzo. A young boy was in the store staring at Bella. He pet her, and I gave him a Puzo gratitude card (maybe you received one if you are reading this). I told him my other dog died two days ago, he shared this with his cousin sitting next to him. As he pet Bella, he showed her the card, almost reminding her to remember her brother. It was innocent and sweet, and surprisingly I didn’t cry. I can find hope in glimmers today of bubbles, a blue sky, the youthful puppy, boy, Bella’s park adventures, and the legacy of Puzo that will continue to live on.
Yesterday, I lost my English Bulldog companion of 15 years. And it’s been more difficult than I expected. As I was reading this book on the Dark Night of the Soul by Thomas Moore, it said you should try to describe your intense emotions in metaphors versus literally. And this is what I have come up with so far…
It’s like…
It’s like the dizziness you feel from spinning in circles.
It’s like finding your first gray hair.
It’s like living in a country where you don’t understand the language.
It’s like a first break up.
It’s like breaking a bone, which you feel will never heal.
It’s like learning to use crutches.
It’s like visiting your childhood home.
It’s like a late January day in England, where the sunsets are at 3 :30 pm.
It’s like letting the world see you without makeup.
It’s like struggling to get onto another flight after yours was cancelled.
It’s like getting lost and not having cell service or a GPS.
It’s like driving on an empty tank, wondering if you will make it to the next gas station.
It’s like endless vomiting after a night out drinking.
It’s like a 100 degree day without air conditioning.
It’s like a yeast infection.
It’s like losing your appetite because you lost your sense of taste.
It’s like 24 hours of no sleep.
It’s like standing on a crowded train at rush hour for a long commute.
It’s like knowing you will never hear your favorite song again.
Metaphors can’t convey the pain, loneliness, and distance I feel from myself losing him.
Today I had to say goodbye to one of my closest companions for the past 15 years. This has been one of the hardest moments, and I knew he waited for me until I came back from my trip. I had minimal sleep last night, crying as I looked at him, as he looked at me, his head rested on my hand, and we both knew our remaining time is limited. I played my Puzo playlist day and night, which consisted of his favorite classical, jazz, and kirtan songs (his favorite song is by Paz – Om Ganapataye, which I played in the vet office as he died).
I’ve had so many memories with this being who came into my life when I was 28, and has now left when I was 43. We had 15 years and 1 month together. Over the years, he’s travelled to more places than some humans. He was a gift from my mother from Amish country in Ohio to NYC (with sidetrips to Connecticut, Vermont, Philly), and two moves to California, Hawaii, and we lived in three residences in the United Kingdom (he even visited Scotland), and finally Paris France. I know he has now transitioned to a place where he will have further adventures and watch over me from above.
It was through walking him and his sister Bella, that I began to talk to strangers in these unfamiliar cities or to explore parks in places I would never have frequented. He opened my heart in ways I didn’t know it was possible. We named him Puzo, as Anthony’s favorite author was Mario Puzo (author of the Godfather), but puso in Tagalog (the Filipino language) means heart. He definitely lived into the name of Gangsta Mafia and Fullness of Heart. I love you Puzo, and I’ve appreciated every joyful, crazy, hilarious, difficult, touching moment with you over the years. We will miss you and I know you will be watching over us and protecting us in this next phase.
“Paris, I believe, is a man in his twenties in love with an older woman.” ― John Berger
I am headed to the states for the third time today since living in Paris. It’s been six months since I have moved here, and everytime I leave I can’t help but reflect on what my experience has been like.
What I have learned in France so far….
1.People have opinions of your dogs : are they healthy enough, where they should go to the bathroom, how long should they live, should they walk more, who to play with ?
2.Women don’t wear shorts, sweats, or yoga pants. Floral dresses and skirts seem to be preferred. Until 2013, it was illegal for 200 years for women to wear pants. It sounds preposterous, but I found this out reading the Bonjour Effect. Women were forbidden to wear pants to keep them from dressing as men and going into the workforce.
3.The double kiss on the cheek is the real deal.
4.Life does feel like a scene from the Disney cartoon Beauty and the Beast, where one must greet everyone with a bonjour. To avoid doing so is rude. It’s best to comply.
5.Many Parisians do not drive or have a need for a driver’s license.
6.Most people speak English, particularly the younger generation. Those fifty and over years old, I have learned to not expect this. If you don’t speak French, and find yourself in conversation with someone who solely speaks French, you can basically figure it out. Guestimate it.
7.Paris is full of diversity and interracial relationships, which has been beautiful to witness.
8.Apartments are small, anything over 400 sqare feet is killing it with space ! We all seem to partake in tiny home living here I’ve learned to survive in 290 square feet, between me, my English bulldog, and my chug. I’ve even hosted a guest for a month . .
9.Parisians are quiet on public transportation. If they talk on the phone, it’s a whisper, the dogs don’t bark, and even the children are behaved. This becomes apparent when other Americans get on a metro.
10.Paris seems to be the quintissential American European dream. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t hear an American accent (which isn’t my own).
11.If you try to speak French, they may speak back to you in French. Or they may find it amusing, and want to minimize your embarassing accent, and just respond to you in English.
12.There are over 130 museums in Paris, to appear cultured, one must attend an exhibit at least once a month.
13.The French dress simply, but classy. One doesn’t find much bright colors, and due to minimal closet space, they make the most of what you have. A camel winter coat, military green trench coat, and simple white sneakers go a long way.
14.Parisians love their parks. Apartments are small, but the parks (in addition to the cafes) seem to be where locals extend their living rooms for picnics, celebrations, or even dates.
15.Everyone drinks tap water. Je voudrais un carafe d’eau s’il vous plait.
16.There’s no guilt over the pleasures in life, whether this is gluten, calories, wine, or sex. Joie de vivre is real. Who needs a gym when you walk everywhere ?
17.Parisians are serious about their food and desserts. Everyone has an opinion, and generally it’s « not bad. » Compliments are infrequent for cuisine.
18.You can feel the creativity, history, and dreams as you walk the streets and boulevards of Paris. All who inspired by it once haunted the same pathways as you, and if you observe and listen closely, you may absorb the Paris effect as well.
19.Many Parisians long to explore other parts of the world too, and dream of living in other places. It’s universal to desire what we don’t have. They have a curious interest towards the American Western dream, cowboys, land, and the unknown.
20. There’s a mystery to the city, in trying to define it. How does one do that ? A flaneur is someone who walks around not doing anything in particular but watching people and society, according to the Cambridge Dictionary. And I feel one can spend a lifetime doing this in Paris, trying to absorb the wisdom and creativity that are embedded in the historical streets of the 20 arrondistments.
And so I will continue to explore more of the complexities of Paris. I am an outsider looking in, roaming the streets, wondering if I will ever be an insider…
My mother is visiting for 10 days, which is lovely. BUT whenever I have a visitor, or whenever I travel, my morning spiritual routine must shift. I have grown accustomed to living alone and making my morning sacred : journaling (morning pages), gratitude, breathwork, meditation, yoga, spiritual texts. But now it has to shift, my mom even said this morning « no time for yoga when I’m here. » and so I must improvise. My meditation shifts to the evening, or I am reminded that walking my dogs is a walking moving meditation. This is what it must be. The trip is time limited, and just because for several days it has to be altered, it doesn’t mean I must lose the essence of the practice .
Years ago, this was the problem with my meditation practice. I became attached to what it had to look like. I only meditated using one particular method, and if it did not fit that mold, then I viewed it as if I had failed at meditation for the day. But over the years, I’ve learned to have more self compassion for myself. I’ve learned to be flexible, and to include other aspects of life into my meditation.
It’s easy in some ways to live a spiritual life on your own, or while you are on a meditation retreat. But what about when you get thrown into the everyday world ? Things must shift, and so it has. And this is okay.
We can still live with intention, even if our days are jolted a bit. We can appreciate it for what it is versus being irritated it does not look a particular way. We can turn towards the beings that are in our atmosphere and learn to mold our spiritual life to wave like strands of long grass in the wind. Flexibility is key to our daily lives, even with our morning discipline.
It Only Takes A Smile 