I’m writing to you from the top floor of a seven-story walk-up apartment in Paris. It takes me seven tries each time to get the front door key to work, and there’s a faint smell of cigarette smoke from one of the other units. I wish I’d brought more layers to wear because it’s always cold in here, (not that I had more room in my carry on suitcase). But the place is charming and lovely and perfect — everything I wanted. The stairs wind up, and up, along with a patterned carpet runner, past plastered walls and brass fittings and crown mouldings. And that’s after you come through the wrought iron, tall front doors into the building.
It’s a great place from which to launch my daily Paris adventures. My first day was a success, particularly a spontaneous visit to the Petit Palais. You turn a corner and suddenly you’re face to face with the works of Impressionist painters Sisley, Pissarro, and Monet (my first encounter with one of his paintings here, but not my last).
Day one brought a measly 13,000 steps, but I made each one count. Despite the fact that I tried to bail on this trip at the start of every leg (thanks, Anxiety). Despite travelling solo for the first time and being outside my comfort zone in so many ways. I’m taking transit like a pro, speaking only French when I’m out and about (and the locals aren’t automatically switching to English!), and even being asked for directions by a French person. Even with any discomfort, I seem to be blending in.
I may not be able to add all my content to this update, because let’s be real, I’ll have a LOT. But I’ll continue to share my Paris adventures with you in the coming months, both here and on my social media channels.
Update after week one: the weather’s changed from cool and rainy to blisteringly hot! And coming from me, a person who normally thrives in heat, that’s saying something. I regret complaining! No more days with over 10,000 steps — it’s far too hot for that. Now, there’s only hunkering down with the shutters closed, breathing slowly, hydrating regularly, and dressing light. On the plus side, I’m making wonderful headway on my book. (Still, I could use a few fewer degrees. Malheureusement, the weather is set to change only on Sunday, when I leave!)
Watch for the next instalment, featuring how I made out in the end, in June. (Or follow me on social media if you can’t wait to find out!)
Taking it to the road
📣📣 Event Announcement! 📣📣
I’m so, so excited to share that I’ll be part of the Parksville Museum’s new Storyteller Festival! On Saturday, June 13, I’ll be putting on my workshop, “From Research to Story: Writing and Sharing Your Family History,” in their Montrose Schoolhouse. Looking forward to connecting with folks from central Vancouver Island!
In Bloom
Back in February, I was one of 43 poets who submitted poems for the Abkhazi Garden 80th Anniversary Poetry Contest. Although my piece was not a winner, all of the poems received are being put into a book as a special memory of their 80th Anniversary poetry event. A copy of the poetry book will be kept at the garden, at the Front Gate, and at the Summerhouse.
The gardens are truly a special place, especially at this time of year during rhododendron season. Have a look for the book during your next visit!
Les Bouquinistes
All Signs Point to Paris: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Destiny, by Natasha Sizlo
This is a title that was given to me for Christmas in advance of my trip, and I’ll be digging in tonight. The blurb definitely sounds like a book I would enjoy, so I’m looking forward to it.
A surprising astrology reading sends Natasha Sizlo—divorced, broke, freshly heartbroken, and reeling from her father’s death—on an unexpected but magical journey to France, in pursuit of a man born on a particular date in a particular place: November 2, 1968 in Paris.
It’s the cusp of Natasha Sizlo’s forty-fourth birthday. Still reeling from her disastrous divorce, she’s navigating life as a single mom and doing her best to fake it till she makes it in the cutthroat world of LA real estate. In the meantime, her ex-husband is dating a Hollywood star, and she’s just broken it off—for the hundredth and final time—with her devastatingly handsome but impossibly noncommittal French boyfriend.
Just when it seems things can’t get any worse, her beloved father is given months to live.
So when she’s gifted a session with LA’s most sought-after astrologist, Natasha—despite being a total skeptic—figures she has nothing to lose. The reading is eerily, impossibly accurate. As her misgivings give way, Natasha can’t help but ask about her ex-boyfriend, the French man she can’t seem to get over.
To her surprise, the astrologist tells her that he is perfect for her. His birthday and birthplace—November 2, 1968, in Paris, France—lines up with her astrological point of destiny. The word husband comes up.
Natasha is distraught. Panicked, even. Was he really The One? Was this all the big soul love she was destined for?
Then, she has a lightning bolt of an idea: her ex wasn’t the only man born on November 2, 1968, in Paris. Natasha’s real soulmate is still out there—she just has to find him.
Joined by her sister and two of her closest girlfriends and buoyed by her father’s parting message to never give up on love, Natasha flies to the City of Light, determined to take destiny into her own hands.
Propulsive, touching, and darkly funny, All Signs Point to Paris is the story of one woman’s search for a second chance at love, with a dusting of astrological magic. Unforgettable and inspiring, Natasha’s journey reveals what can happen when you ask the universe for what you want—and are brave enough to open your heart when the answer finally comes.
As always, thanks for reading. Merci! A bientôt from a scorching Paris.
—Sonia
Sonia Nicholson 