As I mentioned earlier this week, I was recently whisked away from my student life for a few days of gallivanting the streets of London. Within an hour of my arrival, Milla and I were wandering the ornate galleries of the National Gallery catching up in front of the layers of violet tulle adorning Degas’ ballerinas. Before darting straight for the British Museum in true tourist overdrive, I insisted on swinging by the gift shop for the chance of finding my own treasure.

Usually it’s the books that capture my attention, but this particular day it was a small pink and gold box of Charbonnel et Walker chocolates, a large royal seal beveled into the pastel surface. Admiring the elegant packaging, Milla took the opportunity to introduce me to the Royal Warrant of Appointment, a prestigious honor allowing companies who supply the Royal Family to print one of three family seals on their products as an indication of quality. Charbonnel et Walker have been honored by the royal family since they were founded in 1875 and bare the highest appointment: the seal of the Queen. If Pink Marc de Champagne Truffles were good enough for Her Majesty, certainly I would find them every bit as indulgent.

Immediately upon my return home to Paris, it was back to the demanding research and writing of my dissertation. One particularly tiresome day, I looked up from the throne of old books and scattered notes encircling me, my eyes resting on the little pink box waiting patiently for a celebratory day to be opened. I was tired, confined to the limits of my Paris studio spending hours on my research yet feeling as if I was making no progress in my work. My few days in London seemed a distant past and I was missing the company of my dear friend. Far from anything resembling life lived at the Buckingham Palace, I realized that if there was any such thing as the perfect moment to be a princess, this was going to be it.

I set the table with my shabby chic china atop my finest tablecloth, a violet toile from the Loire Valley, and popped the cork of a chilled bottle of Moët & Chandon Rosé Impérial. Leaning back in the old rickety chair, I bit into a powder pink truffle savoring the smooth texture and rich buttery flavor, with each sip of glittering rosé champagne from an Ikea wine glass nourishing the princess within. Looking out over the rooftops from my sixth floor walkup studio, I smiled sweetly to myself: Paris may be covered by a wet blanket of gray, but surely the view from the Palace isn’t this good.

With classes out for Easter and my head heavy from hours in the library working on my dissertation, a weekend getaway was long in order! I packed up my Burberry wellies and raincoat, darted off aboard the Eurostar and arrived in London ready for a change of scenery.

A lovely London egg for the Fabergé Egg Hunt and art by Abraham Cruzvillegas at the Tate Modern.

A relaxing break at the Chelsea Quarter Café

A bright distraction from the London grey.

Sightseeing with a local friend, author of Not Just Another Milla, gave me new appreciation for the city as I looked through my Paris-tinted glasses. After spending so much time with the Latin cultures of Europe, it was refreshing and eye-opening to be amongst a culture that shares much more with my own: I could sit for hours in large brown leather chairs undisturbed in the quiet (almost reverent) upper levels of Waterstones Bookstore at Piccadilly; was awestruck by the level of customer service as the waiter attentively listened to Milla’s customized breakfast order at the Chelsea Corner Café (how boring I was ordering right of the menu!); was quite literally perplexed to find the Saatchi Gallery open by 10am (some art galleries in Paris don’t open until as late as 2pm); and, most cherished of all, my personal bubble was relinquished back into my custody.

The trip was short, a mere three days that came and went faster than I would have liked. Already I’m back confined to the indoors as I work on my dissertation, study for various exams and begin pulling my hair out for a few papers I need to begin writing… Summer is an all-too welcome finish line and yet it is coming all too quickly, the paradox of student life. At least once it arrives, I’ll have yet another opportunity to dart back up to London!

I still remember that sunny weekend last year when I had the pleasure of attending Art Paris 2011. And here we are again with yesterday marking the opening day of Art Paris 2012 (and a year since I began Fine Art Friday). Last weekend, after visiting TEFAF (the world’s best art fair exhibiting Old Masters works of art available on the market) in Maastricht (Netherlands), I was excited to continue my recent run of art fairs with a good look at what’s happening in contemporary art.

Art Paris is an international art fair in Paris that is held every March and offers a wide variety of contemporary art from galleries around the world, from South Korea to our own City of Light. This is the second largest contemporary art event held in Paris, falling behind FIAC which causes quite the scene in October. While FIAC may be the larger of the two, Art Paris is particularly enjoyable because it’s much more accessible to smaller galleries while still upholding a high standard for quality.

When it comes to contemporary art, there is something beautiful about standing in front of an amazing painting completed only in 2011, the artist still living and producing, his style still evolving. And staying involved in the art world means the luxury of observing his progression and makes participating in any one of the contemporary art fairs a true delight. For me, the work of predilection was without a doubt the large painting by Herbert Brandl presented by the Mario Mauroner Contemporary Art Gallery of Vienna. The red splashes gave the rich shades of deep marine blue and wide strokes of turquoise an expansive depth that instantly pulled me in. A sense of relaxation and awe came over me as I stood before the monumental work of art, and I caught myself dreaming of one day having a space large enough to hang it (a nod to the pint-sized Paris studio apartment).

Art Paris 2012 will continue at the Grand Palais through the weekend. If you didn’t make it last year, than I sure hope you find the time to experience it this year. Who knows, you may discover that there is an avid art collector in you after all – if at the very least finding yourself in the middle of an interesting conversation with a gallery owner.

After years of disappointment in every cup of espresso, expats and traveled locals are finally introducing the art of coffee to Paris. Télescope is the latest edition to the few but widely contagious cafés promising freshly roasted quality brews. The very moment I caught word of it, I was on my way to investigate, sit, savor and enjoy my morning cup of espresso.

Located just off the Jardin du Palais Royal, the café ambiance is perfect. A touch of rustic charm with the original beams beveled across the ceiling gave the interior a comfortable yet elegant and sophisticated touch. Large windows provide streams of natural light and views of the quiet street outside. Fresh flowers add a vibrant splashes of life, a nod to the owner’s experience as a still-life photographer. The low counters, a rich natural hardwood, beckon a chat with the baristas who wistfully pour fresh milk into hearts and leaves outlined in espresso.

The opening of Télescope is more good news that the era of robusta beans in Paris may be coming to end. Along with the help of its cousins (Coutume, Kooka Boora, Le Bal Café and Caféothèque), each dreaming of brighters days for the arabica bean in the City of Light, Parisians are beginning to to be infected by the contagion of better coffee. As for me, I’m just happy I have such a wonderful coffee shop so close to home.

Carnet d’adresse
Télescope · 5 rue Villedo · 1st Arrondissement · Metro: Palais Royal

A beautiful ivory box from the 17th century, Ceylon

The Goddess Usnīsavijayā from Nepal, 17th – 18th century

A copper “Dāka” or Devourer from Nepal, 16th – 17th century – I think he wants a macaron…

The Queen Māyā Devī, also known as the mother of Buddha, 19th century from Nepal.

All eyes are turned towards the East this week in New York City for the annual kickoff of Asia Week. Auctions, experts, museum exhibitions, art dealers and galleries all collaborate to celebrate cultural heritage from the Orient – and provide art collectors ample opportunity to enrich their collections.

Caught in the middle between Asia and NYC, I have also been pulled to the Land of the Dragon for some of my master’s classes. Luckily, Paris is home to a world renowned museum for the arts of Asia: Musée Guimet. The beautiful museum houses one of the world’s largest collections of works of art from the Asian civilizations, and I’ve been spending quite a bit in front of its many treasures with various on-site classes and research.

Musée Guimet was named after its founder, Émile Guimet who worked with the Louvre and two other museums to unite the smaller collections of Asian art into one large national museum. In 1927, the doors of the museum first opened but the collection didn’t cease to grow. Musée Guimet has since amassed a sizable collection of works of art from India, Afghanistan, China, Tibet, Nepal, Japan and the Khmer Empire (which is Cambodia, Indonesia, Thailand, Laos, etc).

In addition to its amazing permanent collection, Musée Guimet organizes a series of temporary exhibitions each year. Currently, the calligraphy of contemporary Japanese artists is on view. The temporary exhibit includes works placed on the rooftop terrace of the building, offering absolutely stunning views of the Eiffel Tower and Place d’Iéna below, a view that can’t be missed! After a visit to the Musée Guimet, why not make a day dedicated to Asian culture? I recommend Kunitoraya on Rue Ste Anne for delicious Japanese udon. Happy Asia Week!

Musée Guimet
6 place d’Iéna
Metro: Iéna, Line 9

I still vividly remember waiting outside her office. Somehow I’d gotten the idea that getting my masters in France was my next big move but I didn’t know how to get from Pennsylvania to Paris. I’d asked one of my university advisors who referred me to an old professor I’d had when I’d just begun taking beginner French courses. Ok, I thought, she was nice and it’d be good to see her again.

The hallway leading to her office was long and dark, eerily quiet. Either I was early or she was late, but I happily reviewed my list of questions and piles of hopes while waiting. I had the energy to begin chasing my dreams and she was going to show me where to begin.

Sitting in her office, it was deceptively comfortable. The funky brown couch invited me to sit back and prepare to make my dreams happen. As she asked why I’d come, I started with “I’m wanting to pursue my masters at a French university, and my advisor suggested you’d have some ideas on where to start…” Don’t remember if I finished my sentence or not, but it was immediately counteracted by an assured and forceful, “Oh! You don’t want to do that!” Wait, what? I don’t? I spent the next hour not listening.

“Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.” Mark Twain

This, my readers, is my naysayer. We all have them in our lives. Sometimes they’re near strangers, other times they’re close friends or family. They convince you to open up about our dreams and you’re attracted by their genuine curiosity about what’s going on in your life. But then they leave us feeling a little hopeless and invalidated, making it seem our dreams are unreachable or not good enough. Why wouldn’t I want to move to Paris and study at a French university in my second language? She couldn’t even flatter my idea with a point de départ and send me on my way? She had to crush it with “you don’t want to compete with French students”? I don’t? Why not? Compete? Is getting a masters degree a competition with your classmates? Hmmm….

“Naysayers all have the same toxic tendency: they get off on popping bubbles, raining on parades, throwing wet blankets on ambitions, and farting on dreams.” – Torre DeRoche

If there was one helpful article I’ve ever read on dealing with the naysayers in life, it’s When People Don’t Support Your Dreams by Torre DeRoche. The playful, colorful article covers heavy material with a helpful dose of humor. It begs the question, what naysayer have I let control my life? How might my life be different if I hadn’t listened to those who don’t support me? And if I had?

Flash forward a couple of years from the meeting on the funky brown couch. I’ve just spent the entire month of February cramming hard for finals in French spanning the legality of works of art to the fateful moments leading up to Abstract Expressionism. I’ve learned how to analyze works of art and study the growth in emerging art markets, and for the first time I presented in my second language to a room full of French (*gasp*), something I had always been horrified to do. But I did it, and I’ll be doing it again when I defend my dissertation (not thinking about that yet).

I’m not going to lie, studying at an university in your second language is no easy feat. Sometimes I just want to scream with frustration at feeling like I’m unable to effectively communicate my ideas or portray my intelligence. However, I still can’t figure out why she thought pursuing a masters degree in my second language was such a bad idea. Besides, how many foreign students study at universities across America? Looking passed the sweat and tears it’s taken me to get here, I’m so glad I didn’t listen to my naysayer {You can find our more regarding my path to Paris by clicking here}.

And for some “Dream Food“, have you ever noticed that the artists and works of art we place on the highest pedestals today are those that broke the mold of convention and set out to do something new and different? or were rejected at the time of their creation?

Are you letting your naysayer take the reins of your dreams?

Floral image provided by here, and umbrella art by Kory Miller.

A couple of months ago, I was “tagged” in a blog post by The Wanderfull Traveller, a fellow professional art lover, world traveler, and regularly commenter here at La Belle in France. The idea is to share 10 things about myself I bet you wouldn’t have necessarily guessed.

So here we go….

10. I love horses. They say to be your happiest you should pursue your childhood dreams. Mine was to work with horses 24/7 and the idea of getting up at 4 in the morning to feed the horses has always seemed somewhat romantic. That’s worlds away from life in Paris, but who knows, perhaps one day you’ll be reading La Belle on the Ranch.

Back when I was picnicking at Chenonceau

9. Speaking of childhood, I can’t stand kiwis. It all started in the 2nd grade when the most annoying kid in the class managed to get kiwi bits strewn across my desk, ruining a picture I’d painted. To this day I have no desire to eat kiwi.

8. I don’t want to stop with French or France I’ve really enjoyed learning the language, and excelling in it while living here. But I see more for me on the horizon. Japanese, Italian, Portuguese, German…. those are all on the list. And with those I hope I have the opportunity to live in other foreign countries.

7. My favorite Christmas present ever is this crazy ugly, pink haired troll with one eye lodged into the back of its head. It was a gift from my then-and-now best friend when we were only six. To think I’ve had that troll for 20 years, and her friendship, for so long!

6. I can only spend so much time in a museum. I think it has something to do with my mind running at full force in every direction as I look at all the captivating works of art: I want to know all and study all. Regardless, I regularly visit the Paris museums even if I stay for 2 hours tops.

A work of art I loved exhibited at FIAC 2011.

5. My face broke my first camera. Yes, really. It was a surprise from my Dad when I was about 10 knowing I was interested in photography. He pulled it out from under his pillow early one morning and snapped its first shot of my delighted expression – only that first snapshot was also it’s last. Luckily my face hasn’t broken a camera since.

4. Back to art again, I don’t have a favorite artist/movement/medium. I’ve come to appreciate that a work of art is more than what’s at face value and because of this I have the hardest time determining what truly is my favorite. I’ve also come to love many works that fluster the viewer. And don’t even get me started with “My three year old niece could do that!” *cringe*

3. France is the only country I could see myself getting a dog. In the US, I hate racing home in the middle of enjoying a day out because the dog needs to pee. In France, the dog can tag along with you anywhere: metro, boulot, dodo and everywhere in between. Now that’s a dog’s life!

With my parent’s dog, Roxy

2. I’d rather go shopping for home décor than clothes. I don’t have to try on 3 different sizes of 10 different things before I can walk away with a great new addition. Candles and picture frames don’t hide away in my closet for just the right day. Cute dishes and fluffy towels do not need to be packed away half the year for more season-appropriate wear. And you can’t grow out of a vase.

1. I like it better when I can’t find my American comforts in France. When comforts are readily available, they somehow become less comforting. Plus, it’s easier to appreciate when you’ve had to go above and beyond to find what was always available to you back home. You would not believe the celebration my friends and I had the first time we ate potatoes and eggs after 6 months of croissants (no kitchen, no American brunches in the south of France, breakfast provided by cafeteria or host family, etc). In the end, it was somehow worth it.

In lieu of tagging three of my favorite bloggers, I thought I’d turn the question to you : What’s something people don’t really know about you?

Passage Geffrey Didelot

View of Sacre Coeur from Boulevard des Batignolles

One of Paris’ most charming destinations no matter the weather, Parc Monceau

The most delicious meringue I’ve ever tasted! And so fresh!

For a moment I forgot I was in a city – Parc Monceau was so quiet and still, and dowsed in the rich fragrance of nature.

Turns out Saturday is becoming my weekly venture out into discovering the city, my escape from the stress and drama of being immersed in a grad school of my second language.

So off I was again, heading out under the promise of clear blue skies and a tinge of warmth in the air – the first day in Paris with any indication that Winter is moving on. Inclinations lead me to the 17th arrondissement with a few addresses to check out and a whole lot of curiosity to interrupt along the way.

The 17th will always be a special quartier for me: it was the first neighborhood I lived when I moved to Paris over four years ago. And I’ve yet to really explore it since I’ve moved it back. The streets were quiet, the grey of Paris keeping the city in a muted lull. I weaved here and there following only my instincts. A rythmic motion in a light-filled window captured my eye. I turned to investigate and to my delight two women where playfully tossing the finest white chocolate shavings around freshly-frosted cakes.

Captivated, I stepped through the door and was instantly enveloped in the sweet fragrance of chocolate and meringue. Unbeknownst to me, I had waltzed right into the center of Aux Merveilleux de Fred – the famous patisserie whose meringue is like a light pillowy treasure beckoning the sweetest of dreams. I walked out with my treat carefully folded in gold wrapping. I knew just the place to enjoy it!

Parc Monceau is this lush haven amid the hustle of Gare St Lazare and Boulevard des Batignolles. Sitting on a park bench, I savored the green, such a welcome break from the hues of sandstone and grey. With the threat of rain, the scent of the lush grass carried through the air. I embraced the freshness of nature as each bite of meringue melted in my mouth.

Darkening clouds overhead, it was time to find cover! Checking back at the weather when I got home, looks like Paris has a few more winter hurtles to overcome before our eyes, so accustomed to life without color, are awakened by the rich pinks and greens that encompass Spring. Here’s to brighter days!

Carnet d’adresses:
Aux Merveilleux de Fred • 7 rue de Tocqueville • Métro Villiers