The Party

Steve, the boys and I got invited to a party by our neighbor directly above us. I happend to meet a friendly woman on the stairs who asked me if the elevator was working yet, and I was able to deliver the great news that the elevator was no longer "en panne." She was thrilled as it had been out of service for a week and she was having a party the next day. In her excitement, she invited all of us to her party. For starters, I think it is very unusual for the French to invite strangers into their homes, especially foreigners who have just moved in the day before. But, having been invited, even though we were really tired after struggling through the television episode and the cell phone episode, we had to attend. The opportunity was too good to pass up and not attending would have been rude.

The party started at 6:00, and the boys kept saying, "Let's go, let's go." But I held us off until 7:00 so we wouldn't be awkward and arrive too early. It was a good thing, as the party was really just getting going when we arrived. The apartment was beautiful but not in the original condition ours is with all the marvelous moldings, mirrors and fireplaces. It had been recently renovated and was lovely. Being on the top floor and at the corner of the building it had views in all directions.

We stepped into the party and the hostess "Carite" offered us drinks and began to introduce us to the people in the near vicinity as, "The Americans who have just moved in below." People were gracious taking turns talking with us. We were pleased to meet Carite's former Au Pair, who is now a jolly middle aged woman from Dublin. We talked with her at length about Ireland and the troubles. She loves Paris and has lived here for almost 40 years. We met several groups of people and I tried my best to keep up conversation in French. It was a challenge with some people but fortunately the conversation stayed somewhat superficial.The boys were charming and Will made friends with a little girl of about 6 and kept her occupied for quite a while.

Carite's mother is a fascinating woman, originally from somewhere in Eastern Europe who is an attorney and has lived in New York and other interesting places. We had a lovely conversation about New York and Paris and living abroad, etc. Her English was very good, but we spoke in French. This was a great compliment to me as it meant, I think, that my French wasn't so bad that it was painful to listen to.

I was given very helpful advice about schools for the boys from a friend of Carite's who is an English Professor with a focus in Irish Poetry. (I'm sensing a connection between Ireland and Paris). We talked at length about my work and hers, as a University lecturer outside of Paris, her upbringing in England, the US and France. She and Carite are old friends as their grandparents were friends and had country houses north east of Paris before "the war." I'm assuming this must have been WWII. The two couples would bicycle from Paris to their country houses together - taking the men 4 hours and the women 6 hours to get there. Clearly, this is a strong family friendship which carries on to this day. I like hearing these types of stories. It reminds me of the good things about tradition in a society older than our own.

Carite herself is an interesting woman who is both an attorney who works for the legal publishing company Lexis/Nexus and gives cooking classes on the side. As the food she prepared was wonderful, plentiful and beautiful to look at, I may just take sign up for one of her classes. Plus, I really liked her and it would be a way to get to know her a little better.

Having made the rounds at the party and starting to flag a bit from all the excitement of the day, I decided it was time for me to leave. As I was saying goodbye to Carite, Steve reappeared and told me in a serious voice that he needed my help with something. Oh my, that didn't sound good. And next came the elevator incident.