More Reflections

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I’m still reflecting on my recent Paris trip, partly because I used to live in Europe, so this past trip was more than just a business trip, it was more of a reflection on what was and what is now, not as noticeable after returning from European trips when I lived back east.

The further west I go, the more dramatic the two lifestyles seem and are.

Last week, I spent hours talking to an former journalist Parisian friend (still a sorta kinda journalist although now he also runs a technology company), in a wonderful quaint restaurant near Place L’Italie — I’ve yet to decide whether I should share this “find” with the world.

He tells me of his plans to return to Mongolia using only solar power – solar together and six horses. Wanna hear the entire story? Stay tuned. The evening was more than interesting.

Also, last week, a client secured the first of many amazing mobile deals, I spent two days telling the world so and my corner buddy Jean-Louis along Boulevard Grenelle started to treat me as a local, as he automatically prepared my favorite crepe as I turned the corner.

He knew I needed one by the fatigue in my face and my blue hands from the cold. One day, he did not even charge me, the next day, I brought him a bottle of wine.

I spent an hour talking to an interesting wireless service company, and an hour in Le Bon Marche, where I tried to shop, but could not find anything for less than 600 Euros (do the math). I also hung at the boutiques along Rue Du Four, Rue Du St. Germaine, Rue Du Dragon, etc etc.

On the same day, I met a fabulous female Egyptian entrepreneur with her French husband, at a fabulous bistro, full of only locals who had lived in the city for most of their lives. She called me the next day to direct me to the right art galleries; she did the same with shops/fashion hot-spots……Please tell me why Americans have given up on caring about this stuff?

I followed nine suggestions to visit designer Agnes B from various friends (well known Swedish writer, Korean entrepreneur, Japanese CEO, German female CTO, New York TV producer, the list goes on and on). I thought I was unfamiliar with her design until I realized the black cardigan I was wearing en route to her shop was in fact Agnes B. Her style is fairly conservative and while there was clearly style throughout her stores (went to two), it only felt like a slight notch up from Ann Taylor.

Nothing was on sale, nor truly special except for perhaps a nearly transparent navy blue polka dot shirt for $350 and a lavender cashmere skirt for twice that.

Alas, it takes time to learn about the best deals like it does in every city. The same applies to the artists near the Latin Quarter. I NEEDED TO SEE ART – lots of it. To view and to buy. I went to all the art galleries near Les Arts and the side streets around Miromesnil. My lowest priced option was $6K and most of what I was interested in started at around $15K.

Phillipe, my French pediatrican friend continued to entertain me for hours on his life post divorce amidst a fairly French bureaucratic system, so much so that he is thinking of relocating, although will likely stay on the continent. He says, “if you only knew how little the grants and current salaries are for French pediatricans, you would want to relocate too…” It was shocking when I did learn and for a time, my ears hurt. Empathy prevailed.

Despite all the greatness of Paris, some things still just take too long to get done and regulations make it tough on many entrepreneurs, i.e., my doctor friend making peanuts, my cell phone not working until I officially registered all my data by fax (only by fax), the cost of wifi and phone service is still extremely high, making text messaging the most popular option for most, even in my age bracket, the need to get a photo taken in a specific way and size for a week long metro pass, etc etc.

But, on the topic of arrogance, “get over it.” If you had “above-and-beyond” art, architecture, design, fashion, wine, coffee and food on every corner and suddenly go somewhere else, over time, it would be more than just a culture shock.

Even if any of “it” met you one quarter of the way, wouldn’t you feel depleted over and over again, at least until your system adjusted to what was great to be had in your new locale?

When I walked the city streets, I found myself crying over and over again with joy. Given the consistent rain and me sans umbrella, I was hoping no one would notice. New York has had that affect on me at times, as has Sydney, London, Amsterdam, Prague, Moscow, Berlin, Florence, Rome and Cape Town.

Years and experiences later, I couldn’t help but cry again when walking the streets of Paris. There were moments when I found myself saying aloud and aloud again. “I can’t stand it anymore. I just can’t stand it anymore.” Delight after delight and with such intensity, my body yearned for more.

Paris: you brought me to places known and unknown over and over again. And again and again and again and again. Merci beaucoup.

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