Upward Over the Mountain

Only seeing my friends and family once a year is so difficult, that by the time Thanksgiving rolls around I am dreading it. The 12 hour plane ride, followed by the two hour drive from San Francisco to Modesto in rush hour traffic. The dinners and lunches up and down Northern California. Rushing from place to place, telling the same stories over and over, only to have to leave when the formalities are over and the real conversation starts.

It’s not until the end of our vacation that I realize that when I hugged my former co-worker last Monday, that was the last hug, the last time I would see her, until next year. When I said goodbye to my nephew after Thanksgiving dinner, that’s it for another year, and next time I see him he will be 16. But the last and final hug, the hardest of them all, is saying good bye to my Mom. I cry every time.

There are no hugs in France. Only bisous.

I couldn’t call anyone, I didn’t want to go crazy sitting at home, so I went in search of California comfort food: tacos. Unfortunately, Cantine California was closed and so was the other Paris food truck, Le Camion Qui Fume. David took the day off work. I’m not sure if it was because he had a doctors appointment or knew how upset I was. I had a photography/catch up date planned with a guy from my Sorbonne class who is in town for a month. He is always mean and sarcastic, something I miss, so I knew seeing him would make me feel better.

David and I were early so we stopped at Le Quincy which was probably the best meal I’ve had in Paris. It was expensive, but so charming and friendly. Once you enter, it’s like being in a tiny village. They also serve (fresh) frog legs as an appetizer, which is good to know because we haven’t found them anywhere else.

My friend had already eaten, but when I went outside to say hi and tell him we were going to be late, the owner, who is probably in his seventies, followed me out and invited Keith inside and said changing tables would be no problem. We ended up eating a long lunch  and drinking a bottle of wine (David ordered a glass, but they brought a bottle and left it at the table “just in case”). Keith had great news and made fun of my accent when I ordered and was all around the same asshole he always is.


We went on a long walk on the Promenade plantée took some pictures and sent him on his way to his yearly birthday celebration at the Eiffel Tower.

I talked to my step-dad when I got home, and he said to wait 48 hours before booking a flight. He said in two days they will know more. I also talked to my sister who said I could have called her, but she has a baby and I didn’t want to wake up the whole house. And what could she have told me when I woke her up at 1 AM in the morning? I’m drinking coffee getting ready for the day. She would be half asleep and whispering. Would talking to her have made me feel any better?

Who knows.


2 Responses to “Upward Over the Mountain”

  1. ParisBreakfasts Says:

    what to say?That resto looks adorable-the perfect distraction from problems at hand.Love yr pics in the park – a concinelle too!I see them in all the vitrines but this is the 1st real one.Bon chance with everything E!!

  2. eMerly Says:

    I had to google concinelle. They are supposed to be good luck, non? I'm sure things will be fine (they have to be).

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