Ooh la la
quatre semaines à Paris! I had French envy from head to toe while reading about artist Lucy Knisley and her mother, who spent four weeks in Paris during the semester break of Lucy's senior year of study at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. Their stay is chronicled in drawings and photographs and very generously depicts every morsel of food that they ate: fromage, croissants, baguettes, blood oranges, pâtés, moules, wine, wine, wine. Every museum that they visited. Every market. Every graveyard. Every wonderful Parisian thing. Delicious, creamy, whole French Milk. More wine, wine, wine. While I sit here in frigid, snowy Wisconsin with lots of cheese, but no boulangerie. No Les Puces flea market with sailor hats, silk scarves and camel skin book bags. No four weeks of vacation!
But I am satisfied with the knowledge that I am no longer 22 and caught in the throes of young adulthood graduating into the working world, unsure of where my life will lead me and whether or not I will be able to find a job when I finish my last semester of school. Throughout much of her dream holiday, Lucy worries herself sick about financial responsibilities, school projects, interviews and growing up. At times she can barely enjoy herself.
Now that I think of it, there is a fromagerie in Madison. And a pâtisserie. And many cafés and lovely places to hang out right here. So, I will be content for the time being. I just can’t kiss the grave of Oscar Wilde.