Pain au chocolat, stream of consciousness
An accidental two-month hiatus from the blog ends with a little rainy-day stream of consciousness on a Sunday afternoon. I miss writing, and I’m happy to be back to sharing my thoughts with whoever enjoys reading along 😊💜
MAY 17 - My window is open, and it’s raining outside. The courtyard that my single window faces carries the sounds of birds singing from somewhere else in the neighborhood. The little birds are happy for rain. Anya’s warm body is snuggled up against my thigh. She’s fast asleep under a blanket I got for free from a giveaway bag on the street (it’s been washed - a few times, don’t make it weird).
It’s been a little over a week since I finished school, so I’ve been sleeping deeply, and late every day. My body was so, so tired. 8-14 hours per day on my feet was a new enough phenomenon, and then you add the brutal kitchen shoes, nights where I stayed up too late, called by the allure of biking around Paris with my new friends, or FaceTime chats with loved ones at home, or picnics on the roof to watch the Eiffel Tower dance through the sunset into nighttime sparkles.
The rainy courtyard.
I don’t know what to write about today. The experience, overall, has been magical. I stopped writing when I did because we hit the period of non-magic. Long days, with unhappiness palpable in the air. I spoke up about it, and everything turned magical again, which was truly a miracle. I’m glad that I spoke up, but I’m disappointed that there was anything for me to speak up about, let alone as much as there was to be spoken up about. Everything really did turn around though. I learned a lot and grew because of it all, and I will look back on my experience of “bread baking school in Paris” with nothing but gratitude, awe, and joy. I would wish this experience on as many people in life who it calls to.
I plan to fill in the gaps of the last two months in future posts, like sharing about my wonderful weekend in Barcelona, and more reflections on the incredible amount I’ve learned and experienced in Paris. Those posts will come, maybe I’ll sprinkle them between “in-time” updates like this one.
My shirt is speckled with crumbs of the pain au chocolate that I’m eating slowly as I write. It’s not a great one (this is the curse of baking school; I now know too much). There’s a large cave in the center, and the layers are all a bit stuck together to give a chewy, thick bite, instead of something light, flaky, buttery, crispy. Strange, to come out so wrong when it was made in as nice of a bakery as it was.
It’s okay though, because thunder claps gently outside and the rain sings as it lands in the courtyard. Chocolate sticks wrapped in butter and dough will never be bad - even when I know now that it’s not right. The seeded sourdough I got for my poached eggs was perfect, though. Bouncy, with a bit of chew (I want this in bread, not croissant), and a lovely crust that crunches when you bite it. Perfect.
An imperfect pain au chocolat.
Another bite of the not-perfect pain au chocolat, and more crumbs fall across my keyboard. Poetry writes itself, all around us, doesn’t it?
I love the rain. It washes the sidewalks of the dog pee, human pee, and bits of litter that collect after too many days of sunshine. It smells clean, again. I love the excuse to stay at home - yes, even when it’s in this teeny tiny, temporary apartment. I bought a warm, orange lamp when I moved in, and the little space heater next to me heats us up plenty enough to be cozy. I haven’t blogged in two months, partly because of hard times, but also largely because the sunshine came to Paris and it’s nearly impossible to stay inside with the flowered gardens, green grass, bike rides, and cafe terraces calling out to you under the warm sun. I need days inside though, as does my blog. So I’m grateful for the continual sounds of “clink, clink, clink” of heavy raindrops on the gutters.
