Kindle Edition Download to your Nook (eBook) Amazon Barnes & Noble.com Boyd Lemon-Writer Category:  Travel Publisher: Create Space ISBN-10:  146801143X Type: Non-Fiction Pages: 190 Copyright: December 31, 2011 ISBN-13: 9781468011432 At the age of 70 the author retired and set out to fulfill a life long dream of living in another country. He planned to live in the world's most beautiful city, Paris, for two years, but returned home to California after a year in Paris and Tuscany. He takes you on his journey, experiencing the joys and challenges of living in those two storied parts of the world. At the age of 70 the author retired and set out to fulfill a life long dream of living in another country. He planned to live in the world's most beautiful city, Paris, for two years, but returned home to California after a year in Paris and Tuscany. He takes you on his journey, experiencing the joys and challenges of living in those two storied parts of the world. If you have ever dreamed of living or spending an extended period abroad, you should read this book, a vivid and humorous description of the author's joys and challenges living in Paris and Tuscany. If you have lived or are living in Paris, it will seem quite familiar.       Excerpt CONTENTS Introduction Chapter One: Settling in Paris Chapter Two: A Weekend in Rural Southwest France Chapter Three: Enough of Alliance Francais Chapter Four: The Adventures of Everyday Life In Paris Chapter Five: Joy and Frustration Chapter Six: A Place of My Own Chapter Seven: The French Love of Conversation Chapter Eight: Jolly Old England and Daring Old Amsterdam Chapter Nine: Taking Stock Chapter Ten: Soaking Up More of Paris. Chapter Eleven: The South of France Chapter Twelve: Back in Paris Shucking Oysters and Eating Texas Chili Chapter Thirteen: A Wet Walk and a Dry One Chapter Fourteen: The Island of Groix Chapter Fifteen: The Call of Northern Spain and Portugal Chapter Sixteen: A White Christmas In Paris Chapter Seventeen: The New Year, 2011 Chapter Eighteen: About Food in France and America Chapter Nineteen: More Paris Walks and Meals Chapter Twenty: Farewell Paris Chapter Twenty-One: Final Thoughts About Paris Chapter Twenty-Two: Northern Tuscany Introduction In 2007 I reduced my law practice to a few hours a week, and after a lifetime in southern California, moved to Boston to experience life on the east coast. I loved Boston, its art, music and history, and not needing a car. But I had always yearned to experience living in another country. I considered Mexico and Italy, both of which I had thoroughly enjoyed when I visited briefly, but it was Paris that was calling me. I had visited twice, and Paris was so magical, so civilized, so foreign. I had re-invented myself as a writer, having written more than a dozen short stories and several essays, and I had almost finished a memoir about my journey to understand my role in the destruction of my three marriages. If Boston is a writers’ town, Paris is the quintessential. So, in spring of 2010 I completed my legal work, totally retired and prepared to move to Paris. I decided rather arbitrarily that two years would be the ideal amount of time to soak up French culture. After selling, giving away or storing all of my stuff that wouldn’t fit into a large backpack, a medium suitcase and a computer bag, I obtained my Long Stay Visa from the French Consulate and took off for Paris. As a writer, it was second nature to keep a journal while I was in Paris. I also started two blogs, one on travel and another on divorce recovery. As so often happens when one undertakes an adventure, I was in for a lot of surprises, and writing about them enhanced the joys and softened the challenges. I stayed for a about a year and spent the last month in northern Tuscany. In spring 2011 I returned to California. The most popular posts on my travel blog were excerpts from my journal, so I decided to revise it to make it more readable and publish it. As I read and edited my journal, I relived many wonderful experiences, including the art, culture and history of the civilization that spawned America’s. But the themes that kept reoccurring seemed to be eating, walking and writing. I am thrilled to share my adventures. Chapter Four The Adventures of Every Day Life in Paris **** One Saturday about 8:00 I got on the Metro and headed for Montmartre. I had been there in 2007 and remembered it for its music. When I looked around after getting off the Metro and climbing what seemed like a thousand steps, people swarmed the streets that looked like a hip Disney World. Unlike my neighborhood in the Fifteenth, where people always seemed to be going somewhere—to work, home, to visit a friend, out to eat, to the grocery store, the boulangerie or somewhere––in Montmartre, whether walking briskly or strolling, they just looked around, like they were trying to find something or somebody. The first two cafes I spotted had no empty outdoor tables. Within a few yards I heard a dozen languages spoken. I found a café with an empty table, ordered a small pichet of white wine and began people watching. The first thing I noticed was that there seemed to be few American tourists. Most were European. I wondered if it was the effect of the American recession. A young couple sat on the ground a few feet away, resting, speaking Spanish. Two bottles of wine sat between them. Couples walked by, wives or girl friends pointing at things. I don’t know what. There seemed to be nothing around except cafes and across the way a park with huge trees that covered the entire park, the type of park you see in European cities and on the east coast of the United States, but not in southern California. I remembered walking on this street, Rue des Abbesses in 2007. It felt different not being a tourist—more relaxing—no need to be in a hurry to see anything. I have two years to see whatever I want, I thought. It was a relief to not be studying French in my apartment, though I had my notebook out and glanced at my French vocabulary from time to time. A man walked by in light brown leather pants, a darker brown leather vest, a beige hat with a brim not quite as wide as a cowboy hat, a dress shirt and a red bow tie. He walked by several times, the last time carrying a baguette. He must live here, I thought. I wondered what it’s like in winter when there aren’t as many tourists. I would find out. The tables were pushed together as close as possible, touching. Had I understood more than English, I could have heard everything the couples around me were saying. Most of the people were couples. I saw few people alone. I guess Paris is a couples sort of place—the city of love, or is it light? It’s a good thing cigarette smoke doesn’t bother me. A dozen people within 20 feet were smoking. A lot of Africans walked by, some in native costume. I didn’t know if they lived in Paris or were tourists. It’s sad that the French don’t treat their African residents any better than we do, maybe worse. I saw a lot of people pointing to some steps nearby that descended to another street. When I finished and paid for my wine, I walked down the steps and followed a street to the right. There was Pigalle. I had heard Pigalle in recent years—maybe not so recent—had turned into a place to watch and perhaps get sex, and I noticed pictures and ads for lap dancers and nude shows and the like. I walked a couple of blocks. It all looked the same. As I waited for a signal light, a young man approached me and, in English, asked me to come to his bar down the way and have a drink. He said there were pretty girls there. Why not, I thought, so I followed him. He took me inside, standing close to me, but not quite touching me. He pointed to a booth with black curtains that could be closed. I sat down. He said the drink would be ten euro. Just then an attractive brunette, nicely dressed in black, about 35, I guessed, sat down next to me and started talking in English. I don’t remember what she said. I do remember her putting her hand on my thigh. That finally jarred me to the realization that the place was a brothel. I thanked her and got up. The man who had escorted me came rushing over along with another woman, with a very short skirt and low cut blouse. They both urged me to stay, saying they would provide me with another woman. I told them no, that I had decided to leave and rushed out, clutching my bag to my body. They followed me to the door, urging me to stay, but didn’t physically restrain me. I sighed when I got out the door. I walked back to Montmartre and heard music coming from a bar. I went in and sat down. It looked like a hip American bar from the ‘90’s. Looking around at the male couples, I concluded it was a gay bar, but nobody was paying any attention to me, except the female bartender, who asked me in English what I wanted to drink. I ordered a Margarita. Soon after, a young man sitting at a table with an older woman announced in French that it was his mother’s birthday and in her honor he was going to buy everybody—about 8 people––a drink. The bartender told me in English, but I had understood what he said. I didn’t want another drink, but didn’t feel like I could refuse. I sat at the bar, nursing my drinks and listening to the band playing a little French music, but mostly American music from the ‘70’s. At 10:00 I was hungry and asked the bartender to recommend a good seafood restaurant. The place she recommended was crowded, but they accommodated one person. It was noisy and smoke filled—I had an outside table. I ordered a salad, escargot and mussels, and they were delicious, but expensive. I couldn’t afford it often, but I felt like I had been out to the part of Paris where the artists used to hang out, even if it was now mostly a tourist destination. I appreciated the history.

Magnifique
5.0 out of 5 stars Magnifique!, March 24, 2012
By Elysabeth N. Faslund - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)
This review is from: Eat, Walk, Write: An American Senior's Year of Adventure in Paris and Tuscany (Kindle Edition)
If you were to travel to Paris, plan to make a home there, or simply live for awhile...this book MUST be what you read, savor!
Apart from the problems encountered with banks, pay-per-minute cell phones, and the French classroom, etc., among countless others, this book is the essential "French Reality" told as only Boyd Lemon can. It's the high quality of the endearing storyline which will have you speechless from the beginning!