PARIS [1980-1983] : A PHOTO ESSAY, OF SORTS
[I have decided to write a series of picture-filled ‘sweet journey] posts that I hope will share my story, a story of a Third Culture Kid turned Adult. This is the first post. The following posts are here : Manila [1983-1987]]
My parents moved to Paris in their late 20’s/early 30’s, a few years before I was even a proverbial glimmer in their eye. They were both born and raised in Philadelphia, PA. Him, Stephen, South Philly. Her, Claudia, North Philly. They rode many a trolley car to cross the streets and avenues around teh city in order to pursue their romance. Him, Lithuanian, her, Russian but both of kapusti- [cabbage] and potato-eating Eastern European heritage.
Married for close to ten years and only having ever left the country for a honeymoon in Jamaica and a budget trip to Europe [a literal $10 a day kind of thing], they threw all caution to the wind and my father, a freshly-graduated Masters degree-toting Hoya, accepted a position in Paris. My maternal grandfather [Grandpop Pete] tagged along for the journey, too. All three were well suited to the Parisian life, though not necessarily aware of being so at the time. History-loving, cheese-devouring, market-browsing oenophiles, my family took to Paris immediately. Here is a bit of our journey in The City of Love, The City of Lights.
my christening . Cathédrale Notre Dame . Claudia [2nd from right], Stephen [farthest right]
l : r Claudia, Granny Mary [paternal grandmother], me, Stephen
what a stylish French kiddo, floppy hat & all
born with my hip out of socket, I spent a few months before I was one in a large cast . you can see how wide it is around my already-chubby baby midsection in this picture .
apparently not a fan of horses
… or naps!
I was the official cherry tester when in season at the market
30-something and still envious of my mom’s ability to rock the red lipstick like no one else
I was apparently an awful sleeper and would only do so when laying belly-down on my moms lap and rocked, butt-patted till I finally dozed . I also apparently always woke up the instant she stirred, so this was often the scene at our apartment most nights in my first few months . Sorry, mom!
my stylish mother sipping on a café in one of the squazillion stunning public parks in Paris
Claudia, me and Grandpop Pete on a spring walk
lecturing my favorite babysitter, Grandpop Pete, on Bottle Feeding 101
see, Grandpop Pete? that’s how it’s done!
me, Granny Mary
dad and I rocking our shades
let’s talk about my dad’s style, here, please? the slip-on loafers, the vest and tie, and woah, facial hair! handsome and dapper, no?
bonus photo essay :
my favorite series of photos . an only child through-and-through, I preferred to play by myself and stick to what I knew . this might explain why.
playing in the sandbox at a city park . pretty happy and content to do my thing .
along comes a sweet Parisian fille and her maman .
said fille gets plopped down next to me to play, and immediately picks up my shovel in her grubby little fingers . [notice maman’s beret!]
we “play” . next to each other, but I am quite suspicious .
… when along comes another jeune fille who, sporting Uggs before they were cool, whisks away my only attempt to have a true Parisian friend .