I look at my to-do list and realize it’s living the life. Even the unremarkable days, where I failed to plan anything, end up being sweet and full.

Enjoying a coffee and reading the news

After many years of tiring rebellion against biology, I found the rough outline of my chronotype: I need 8-9 hours of sleep a night, and I naturally get up alert and energized at 9 am.

I followed this today with some delicious coffee and breakfast and read the news, opinion, and analysis from The New York Times, Parisian dailies, and Le Monde.

Work out and enjoy the sun

The hot weather has moderated in Paris, and we now have beautiful stretches of mild days with highs in the 80s F. I like the heat, and I find it perfect for daily exercise, which I got to around noon. I biked to Parc Kellerman in the 13e arrondissement and used the outdoor strength equipment there to maintain my super muscular, godlike physique. I had been going to the setup at the Jardin du Luxembourg, but I realized Parc Kellerman is leafier and far less crowded.

I went for a run in the sun and then headed back, with a walk through beautiful Parc Montsouris to cool down. I walked my bike (tenir à main svp) because paid and casual upholders of orderly French society will wag their finger and notify you of the potential fine for cruising through the park on your bike. I looked out for the noisy parakeets, the clever pies bavardes and the gently cooing pigeons ramiers and for the black swan and turtles and carp that inhabit the park.

Reading

I showered and read more articles and news of the momentous things happening all around us. I read selectively and tuned out all hysterics and fear-mongering about the end of democracy, the crisis of youth mental health, the crisis of political polarization, and the return of the orange man. It seems the pandemic is over because all-cause excess mortality (a solid measure of normalcy) is back to how it was before. The Russia-Ukraine war is raging in a tiring replay of east versus west. Three continents are baking under global warming. And immigrants are arriving in waves in Europe and the US and facing growing resistance.

Nap

I drifted off after eating too much of my baguette, tomato, brie, and olive oil. A nice breeze was coming through my 4th story window from the south. When I felt like it, I rolled over, smiled at my good fortune and at the movement of the curtains in the wind, and gently got going.

I have to say, in France, people really do walk around with baguettes. I saw one young lady who had attached a baguette to her shoulder strap so she could turn her head and take bites without using her hand, which was holding a phone. I saw a man walking and swinging a baguette like the baton of a leader of a parade. I realized I eat almost a whole one every day because they are crispy, delicious, and fresh. I am glad we have forgotten that bullshit from a few years back about reducing carbs.

Crossword and cappuccino

I biked north to Shakespeare and Company’s small wood-walled cafe and did the New York Times crossword over a cappuccino. Monday’s puzzle is a little too easy. Tuesday and Wednesday’s are more challenging. I am grateful for this little anglophone memento of home and for this English language bookshop. There is a red-haired staff member who looks like an angel. They put on an excellent festival on the 100th anniversary of James Joyce’s Ulysses. And they make a good cappuccino.

I grabbed two more books

I walked past the Cathedral of Notre Dame and skipped the huge crowds there. I first saw this cathedral in film, when little Amelie was traumatized by a Canadian tourist who jumped to her death there. Now, I cannot get close to the building because of restoration work following the disastrous fire from a few years back. But you can still see the amazing facade from many angles.

I biked down the Rue de Rivoli and to the largest bookstore in Paris. I got my hands on two books to sink my teeth into: “Buddenbrooks” by Thomas Mann, in English. And a book called “Destinées improbables” by Jonathan Losos, on the role of chance in biological evolution, in French.

I need these badly after suffering through lightweight, somewhat pointless “Hurricane Season.” I had finished the translated comic Watchmen also. The Mann book will give me rich descriptive language, a literary version of psychology, society, and family, and a historical setting to be mentally transported to. The evolution book will refine my understanding of biological language in French and will help me learn about chance, necessity, and self-organization in evolution. All of which are big ideas worthy of reflecting on for a lifetime.

I got a martini

I ordered my favorite but temperamental cocktail in the Vivienne/Place Vendome area of Paris. It was cold, clear, and pure, just as it should be. The side bite that I ordered, by contrast, was not good: it turned out to be pureed salmon in a jar, accompanied by what looked like toasted Wonder Bread, peanuts, and green olives. Sometimes the food in Paris is incongruously bad compared to the nice surroundings. But again, the cocktail was excellent.

The barman (as her business card called her) advised me to ask for a “zest” instead of a “torsion” de citron. I thanked her and told her, “Avec chaque cocktail, j’apprends un peu plus de francais,” which she liked. She confirmed that “sec” is used to ask for a dry one but said that a wet martini was something you have to spell out, if you like vermouth and want to be that prescriptive.

Some other advice for ordering a martini in Paris: skip Bar Hemingway because it is not good. It is full of squishy, beige surfaces and ugly kitsch. Go to Buckingham Bar or Le Select instead. Confirm you want a “vrai martini” otherwise you risk getting a glass of white vermouth of the Martini Rossi brand. Specify “sans glace” if needed, otherwise you might end up with ice cubes floating in your martini glass, which is against nature and doesn’t have the right theology and geometry. And if the bar does not have neat rows of clean martini glasses at hand, order something else instead.

I read in the park

I cracked open my new book on a chair in the Jardin des Tuileries and occasionally looked up to enjoy the sights of people enjoying the fountain at sunset, at this special time of year when the evening sun hangs low over the Arc de Triomphe and shines down the length of the Champs-Elysees.

I thought of an article that talked about the joys of this kind of wandering and felt gratitude for the luck and for the choices that led me to 4 months of culture, language, leisure, and learning in the French capital. I feel gratitude for all the people who helped me learn French, to the unpaid advocates on the internet who helped me discover the childfree life before it was too late, to a bit of saving and investment know-how that allowed me to take off for a semester of self-directed learning and enjoyment debt-free, and to the amazing city of Paris, which was formed over the course of millennia and will be here for millennia after I am gone. I also felt gratitude to people like mayor Anne Hidalgo and those who voted her into office, who are rapidly improving the city by reducing the number of cars and increasing the greenery.

I felt a small amount of self-satisfaction at a relative and a friend who both hinted I should be looking for a wife and kids. The one hinted that I needed a wife to look after me in old age, which was odd since his wife was nowhere to be found as he himself experiences old age. The other, my friend, had one oops baby after another, and now has a shrieking autistic toddler and a bipolar baby mama who creates emergencies, often involving police and security staff, almost every week. Honorably, he fought hard to be a part of his kids’ lives against an unsympathetic court system and now is the central pillar of their lives. And there is another kid from another man that he will have to take in. And he said he might have more kids “in case they break up.” He also absentmindedly let slip that he assumed I would have kids someday, forgetting that I had been snipped to avoid the kind of life he has. I smile at people who can’t imagine a lifestyle other than the one they happen to live and can’t question assumptions they don’t know they have. And I will support him and the kids as he deals with the chaos of parenthood and a tumultuous relationship.

I wrote a bit while enjoying Rachmaninoff

I wrote a bit while enjoying Rachmaninoff after biking home. It turns out there is a Conservatoire Sergei Rachmaninoff in Paris, and I enjoyed a recital there during the Fete de la Musique. Paris has everything.

I video chatted with my dad and mom

I video chatted with my mom and dad in Minneapolis. They too are enjoying summer.

I watched a film (The Road)

I watched half of “The Road,” a bleak film from about 15 years ago. It is excellent. I have now seen Viggo Mortensen’s ass cheeks (in this film) and penis (in “Captain Fantastic“). Both are excellent films. I have had time to watch a movie every other day. I like streaming series, but I find them forgettable despite being packed with action and twists. A film is a self-contained story, like reading a book instead of browsing an online feed. And my next one will be “Oppenheimer,” which is advertised heavily in Paris, and which got excellent reviews everywhere. I was intrigued by this man’s story after being assigned “The Making of the Atomic Bomb” by Richard Rhodes in school. And I think this film will prompt me to read “American Prometheus” to understand this scientist and the momentous events around him better.

Last word

I love checking out the grand events in Paris like the Fête Nationale. But even the unplanned days are sweet and full.

About the photo

Deux soldats français qui attendent patiemment après le défilé des troupes motorisées au jour de la fête nationale.