Emily in France 🇫🇷 Where is Home?
My sense of "home" is elusive, at best.
I can't remember the last time I could say the word "home" and mean only one place.
Starting from age 14, my sense of home has been split: when I said "home" at boarding school, I sometimes meant New York, sometimes Long Island, and sometimes whatever dorm room I was living in that year. By the time I went to Cannes, I had accumulated even more homes: one in Toronto; another in France.
I doubt I'm alone in that; I think it's a bit of a millennial problem. But it's definitely odd to have my sense of home be so divided, so disparate.
I'm going "home" for a bit this summer: to New York, to Long Island, to the Catskills, to Cannes, to Paziols. And then, when it's all over, I'll be coming "home" to Paris – and I'll be happy to be "home" at every point of my périple, and in every sense of the word.
Where I'm Eating
I ate at Au Petit Panisse last night, and the relatively new neo-bistro in the 11th is so great, it's already made it onto my list of my favorite Paris restaurants. You can see what else has made the cut here.
Where I'm Going
1. I'm (finally!) going to a few exhibits this week that I've been meaning to check out for a while, including the Courtauld collection of Impressionist paintings at the Fondation Louis Vuitton.
2. I'm also checking out Rouge at the Grand Palais – an exhibit about Soviet life and culture.
3. Finally, I actually already went to Marso&Co last week (for my birthday!) but I loved it so much (and neglected to bring my camera...) that I'm going back again Thursday. Check back next week for my review.
What I'm Writing
1. If you're as much of a fan of sandwiches as I am, you'll eat up this story I wrote for Far & Wide about the most emblematic sandwich in every state.
2. I often get asked how the French stay so thin, given all the bread and cheese and pastry. My answer is always as follows: the French don't snack. For the skinny (sorry couldn't help myself) on this cultural quirk, check out my article for Eat This, Not That.
3. Speaking of home, mine is famous for its bagels. My adoptive home? Not so much. From the archives: my exploration of the weird relationship between France and bagels, for Vice.
What I'm Reading
I just finished this lovely novel set in Tokyo (one of the library books I checked out *mumblemumble* weeks ago in preparation for my Japan trip). It was such a delightfully strange, magical realism-esque experience and all I want now is to read everything else that Murakami has ever written.
A bientôt !
Emily in France