Movin' on

This blog has seen its last day. Gabriel was feeling a bit left out and I'm not one to argue. I like to choose my battles, and though I do choose almost all of them, this is one I'll walk away from.

If you like, you can still bore yourself silly by checking out our new blog. It goes by the new improved, exciting, and original title of:

4in15

With my most sincere regards,

The Googster

Habemus Gabriel

From Habemus Gabriel

Things were getting a little funny in the 15th arrondissement. I can tell when my parents aren't telling me something because our regular routine is knocked out of wack. In this case, my mommy was gaining weight pretty fast. Anyone who knows Paris knows that women here all look like that model (named after me) Inès de la Fressange. And anyone who knows mommy knows that mommy couldn't gain weight if she tried. But just in case, I didn't want to mention her growing belly.

From Habemus Gabriel

Now I see that that belly is where mommy and daddy were hiding this little dwarf all along. They seemed to be worried that I'd be jealous. They were relieved when the first thing I did was give him a kiss (I just learned how to kiss which has daddy quite worried) and hold his hand.

Jealous? Moi??? I mean, I'm just glad that things are back to normal and, anyway, this thing is a quarter my size. You know the Pope was in Paris last week. I have a feeling that he asked my mommy and daddy if we could take care of this little guy for a few weeks. And he's so small that it seems like the right thing to do. I'm sure he'll be gone by next week, or Christmas latest. But if not, who knows, I might just get used to having a little brother.

Gabriel was born at 3:31 in the morning, in the 15th arrondissement of Paris. Outside, it was chilly, cloudless, and calm. We aren't just 3 in 15 anymore...

Why don't you check out the first pictures of this little fellow here: blow gabriel blow

Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum. Habemus fili, e dominum Tejada, qui sibi nomen Gabriel.

Escape to Deauville

I'm a little young to be learning history, but people say that some things were quite different before I was born. First, I'm told that summers actually meant sunny days - I mean lots of them; sunny days all the time! I'm also told that cool toys like the bright colored ones that I have spread all over our Paris apartment floor were made in Japan, and at some point even in Europe or the US, rather than China (yeah right). Some people even try to convince me that a trip to the beach was something that was once carefully planned for all but those who actually lived near the sea - and then most of those who did actually fished for a living, or ran seedy bars where sailors with Scottish accents drank from pewter mugs and chased women in long petticoats. I'm having a little trouble with this last one.




As Sam Cooke once said, I "don't know much about history", but if I could hit the beach on a rare sunny summer day. "What a wonderful world it would be." [NB: I'm more a Cole Porter fan than a Sam Cooke groupie].

Since well before my birth, Paris has boasted two beaches: Paris Plage and Deauville, the "21st" arrondissement of Paris. When, in August, a cool sunny Paris morning promises a warm afternoon and generous sun, something special just has to happen. Since Paris plage is something that Parisians brag about and support - but don't actually frequent, mommy and daddy threw caution and responsibility to the wind and drove me out to Deauville.




It was a great day. Mom is always late so we arrived in Deauville around lunchtime. We walked up the promenade and found a great seaside terrace where they could eat moules frites and I could chomp on an omelet. Not long after I was on the beach with my trusty bucket and shovel, the very one that I used in the Île de Ré! Yes, the bucket that's made in Italy and shovel that's made in France - yes, in my lifetime!






After an ice cream we had a quick drive through the typical Norman streets of Deauville, then pointed the car towards the 15th arrondissement of Paris and drove home. I don't know what people did on sunny days in the olden days - before I was born. But one day my children's children will read their history books and learn that cool Paris parents played hooky and drove their kids to Deauville.



You can check out some Deauville getaway pics here: dashing drive to Deauville

Birthday visits

It was no ordinary weekend. It was daddy's birthday. I couldn't just sit around beating my sippy cup against my high chair. I had to do something!

This year daddy's birthday fell on a Saturday. Something special was in order. I had to call in the heavy artillery. Fortunately, I knew what to do. I've had a birthday before; I'm no beginner.



First I had to conspire with mommy to make sure that we bought a whole bunch of really nice gifts. Then abuelita, who always cooks something special (and never stops making everyone feel special, particularly me), would cook something delicious. Finally, we needed some special guests - and I knew just the ones. Mario, my speech writer (see my first speech here) and the lovely Carolina would join us. They know how to party!!!! Cuba, Peru, Mexico and Venezuela, all in Humbligny! And with Mario, the king of positive, you know you're in for a special weekend.



They arrived Saturday morning, under gray skies. "Beautiful weather!", Mario said. "'stá Poca madre!" Mario is from Mexico. Before we knew it, corks were poppin' and cheese was smellin'. This was open door weekend at the caves of Menetou Salon, and we couldn't pass up a birthday invitation like that. We tried some of Mr. Turpin's wonderful whites (I think he's tried a little bit too much of his own whites if you ask me) and then it was off to Henri Pelle to check out the whole shibang. A stop at the potters' market on the grounds of the Château de Maupas and then it was home to fire up the grill.





After a water emergency, a visit by the mayor, a visit by the vice-mayor, a visit by the "I'm the dude in charge of the water" man, and a mild-to-major panic, it was time to throw the steaks on the grill. Fortunately, night doesn't fall until well after 1o o'clock here - and that's more or less when we finally got to eat. Daddy just managed to blow out a candle while it was still birthday.



The next day, after a walk in the forest, a demonstration of Mario's juggling talent, finding the giant mushrooms, and another BBQ, everyone called it a weekend.





Why don't you check out some snaps from the whole weekend here: Panamerican birthday

Walking in Miró's shadow

Every princess needs a place to expend a little energy. Fortunately, I live in Paris, where around every corner there seems to be a park waiting for an invasion of hyperactive children. I'm a lucky princess; I have several nearby. One of the closest is my nanny Véro's favorite - the Square Blomet.



Square Blomet is hidden, known only to the locals and, now, to those who read the New York Times (you can read a little bit about it in this article). It's a few meters away from Paul Gauguin's studio and what was once the 'Bal Nègre' or 'Bal Colonial', at number 33 (drawing below). Josephine Baker, Pablo Picasso, Picabia, Robert Desnos, Foujita and many others frequented this famous haunt of 1920s Paris - today it's a latin dance club where you can take salsa lessons.


The park itself is quite small. Several benches, a granite ping-pong table and a large bronze statue by Joan Miró (his studio was in a building that gave way to the Square).
Then there's the good stuff: slides, swings, climbing frames, and a huuuge sandbox! I love that sand. Mom and dad find lots of it in my pockets when I get home. They also find some in my shoes, in my socks, in my hair, and, eventually, all over the apartment!



I've been going to the Sqare Blomet for a while. But these days a new world has opened up. I'm vertical. I strut my stuff around Sqare Blomet like I own the place, and I'm pretty sure that I do. Any toy I see is instantly mine. If my hands get too dirty, there's a nice old-fashioned water pump there and there's even a dedicated terrain de boules where some of the best pétanque players in Paris get together to throw a few.



Yeap, Square Blomet is just what a girl needs. If you're looking for me, you can find me there most days after my nap.

Check out a couple more playground pictures here: sand, slides and surrealists

Summer's here!

Yesterday there seemed to be an inordinate number of young boys with scraggly hair and t-shirts playing out-of-tune electric guitars. My daddy plays guitar and, from him, I've learned what perfect tuning is! Most weren't very good but they seemed to be having fun. As we continued to walk, the whole of Paris seemed to be preparing for one big citywide concert. Classical, jazz, French chanson, even those strange tribal noises that come from the deeper, darker parts of the big cities in the United States. What was it? Oh yes! It's June 21st, the first day of summer, it must be the Fête de la Musique!




And the first day of summer it was indeed! The Paris sun seemed to recuperate its generous streak after a long miserly spring. Mommy was too excited to stay on the fourth floor of 88 rue Lecourbe and kicked daddy and I on to the streets. On a day like this I felt like a walk in the Luxembourg Gardens, seeing the other children push boats in the fountains, and kicking back in one of the many chairs around the park. I also felt like getting in a little walking practice.



On the walk back I drank in the rues de Fleurus, du Cheche Midi, and du Bac. Mommy and Daddy had been good so I let them have an ice cream - she mango and he coconut. Summer was here!

On Sunday we went to the Tuillerie Gardens to meet daddy's friend and former boss/professor, Lisa. She was with her husband Fabio and daughter Julia. Daddy says that it's scary to see how much Julia has grown (I said: "daddy, people change between the age of 18 months and 12 years - it's normal"); he wants me to take my time.

But I'm in a hurry, so I decided I wanted to achieve another first. This time it was my first ride on a merry-go-round! I sat with daddy and made faces of distinct displeasure - but I didn't cry.



After a long hot day I was dying to get back to rue Lecourbe and play. I was also pretty hungry and felt like practicing my eating, which I did.




Whew! What a weekend this first weekend of summer! I'm looking forward to my second summer in Paris.

Why don't you have a look at how it started here: suddenly summer

Sand, salt and summer (well, sunny spring).

In 1627 a mean Brit called George Villiers decided to beat up a bunch of French islanders just because he didn't like salty caramel (that may not be historically accurate but I'm only eighteen months). Anyway, the French must have kicked some butt because you can get salty caramel all over the Île de Ré.

Sun, sea, pineau des charentes (and wine and cognac), salt, oysters, crêpes, salty caramel, the Île de Ré has it all. But nothing makes me go nutty like sand. Yeap, lots of sand. And I'm sure that I could have dug a hole to Australia and filled a million buckets if my mommy and daddy had let me stay just a little longer. But they were hungry.




As the Paris spring struggled to find an identity, I saw that mommy and daddy were a little stressed and working too hard. So I decided to shove them in the car and take them out to the sea. I figured I'd stick them on an island and keep them there for a week. So we headed out to La Rochelle and crossed the bridge. What a great idea I had!













I spent a week eating, sleeping and working on my tan. I also displaced gargantuan quantities of sand using my trusty bucket and shovel, and sometimes even my rake. Of course, I made sure to drink lots of water, though I wasn't willing to wear my hat for more than a few seconds at a time.


I stayed fit on a diet of crêpes, croissants and bananas...



...and had long walks on the beach (holding on to mommy's hand of course).




Daddy also walked me around and showed me off to anyone who would watch - and of course, the Île de Ré is a place to be seen! Oh, mom and dad had a pretty good time too. So good they didn't let me dig that hole to Australia - they were happy to stay on the island and eat salty caramel.



I didn't mind staying; as you can see, I was in a good mood!



If you'd like to check out some more pictures of our trip to the Atlantic coast, click here: Caramel à la fleur de sel

Before work

Summoning the sun

Sometimes, before daddy leaves for work, he sits at the computer to see what the weather is going to be like. When he does that, I like to crawl up on his lap and ask him to put on clips from snoopy musicals, or a little Fred Astaire tap, or some nice piano.

That's what we did this morning. Then we took a couple of snaps to capture the moment. I know daddy took the pictures so he could look at them while he's at work, missing me terribly.

Way out west

Lighthouses, crèpes, cider and lots of that delicious caramel with sea salt! Of course I'm talking about Bretagne. But not just any part of Bretagne, the Finisterre, the end of the Earth, the western most point in metropolitan France!



May day weekend and I put my mommy and daddy on an early morning train to Brest. Daddy's friend of 20 years, Nathalie, was with us to make my first long train trip (Brest is as far from Paris as the Provence). We were all on a voyage to the end of the Earth because daddy was honored to be the Godfather of Nathalie and Jean's third and beautiful son, Jacques.

I was quite taken by Nathalie and Jean's three handsome sons, but I was modest and will wait a few years.



I spent most of my time sleeping; I think the sea air had a calming effect on me and I was, after all, on vacation. The baptism was on Saturday evening. It was the first time that I went to a church on the seaside. I slept there too.

After a weekend of good food, walks by the sea and lots of quality time with our dear friends, we climbed back on the train for our trip back to the Gare Montparnasse. I ate my first croque monsieur during the long trip!

I love Paris and the sun was out to greet us on our return. This week I am finally in my summer clothing and, as always, a very happy girl!

You can see a few more picture of our trip to Porspoder here: Pirates, gales and moules marinière.

You can also see a couple of snaps of the weekend Sam and Rob came to visit us at the Chetif: Oz meets Sancerre

Greece is the word

It was not easy being away from daddy all those days. But I must admit that life was so good with my aunt Magali and cousins Melina, Nefeli and Constantinos that I almost forgot how terribly I missed him (emphasis on almost).



Yes, daddy was away teaching his friend Nick how to ski. Poor daddy, he's so patient with those beginners. Meanwhile, I was criss-crossing the streets of Athens, swaying through the birthplace of democracy, breaking plates and swigging Retzina to the rhythm of Laïca and under the sweet spell of Hesiod's poetic cadence.

You can see a few of the snaps of my Greek week here: baklava and Kazanztakis

Also, why don't you check out this video of daddy skiing down a mountain:

Swing time

Though I'm actually going to be a Doctor one day, I have rhythm in my blood and a tune on my lips. I started singing when I was eight months old and dancing not long after. When I hear a little music I can't sit still.



The other day, I was working on my moves and sharing some of my latest dance innovations with my abuelita. They liked them so much I knew I was on to something big, so I immediately had to call my agent and let him know.



Also, why don't you pick up your mood with a couple of snaps of the Chetif Moulin under a spring snow? Winter wonderland in March

Splishin' and a splashin'

Every night when my mommy and daddy come home we go through an important ritual, typical of the 15th arrodissement of Paris for centuries. Some people say it goes back to Gallo-Roman times when the rue Lecourbe was an important road leading into Paris from the South. Smelly backpackers weren't allowed into Paris in those days. The ritual goes like this.

After playing and laughing a lot, I sit on the
bed and try to fly (see videos 1&2).





After tiring myself out it's time for a nice swim. Sometimes I complain before getting into the water but once I'm in, I start splishin' and a splashin' and singing songs and beating up my friend the dolphin/thermometer.






You know, those Romans loved their baths...


Check out some more pictures here: Soap star

The Chetif Moulin d'en Haut

Daddy tells me that, when he was little (yes, he was little too!), many of the kids he knew would ride around on a toy called a "big wheel". He claims not to remember too much about them other than that they were made out of hard plastic and came in gaudy florescent colors. Everyone either had one or wanted one, except daddy; he was into the traditional red tricycle. The real thing.

I don't know how long the road that leads up to my grandmother's house has been there, at least 300 years or so; but I'm pretty sure that it has never seen a big wheel. That's because this place is more a traditional red tricycle kind of place than a big wheel place.



I go to visit my abuelita and tío as often as my mommy and daddy will take me. They spoil me by lavishing even more attention on me than my parents do (and that's a lot!). When we're there we also do the things that a princess likes to do when relaxing in her country estate: eat, go for long walks in the forest, talk to the cows, barbecue (from the French expression " barbe à queue), sail my yacht on the pond, pick blackberries to make a big pie, eat said pie, sit by the fire and eat a little more.


The area around the Chetif Moulin is wonderful. The region is known for its wine, the most famous of which is Sancerre (a beautiful town not far away). The well-known cheese Crotin de Chevignol comes from here and we buy it from many of the local farmers. The immediate surroundings are also known for having the best clay in France and there is a potter's village very nearby where artists from 17 countries live and work. Many of them look a little lost in the 1960s though. The Loire river flows not far away and, like most of France, the hilly countryside is dotted with châteaus - perfect for the Princess of Paris!



Why don't you check out some snaps of my country estate here: wine, cheese and hippies.