Paris, Home, and Being a Helper

Hi guys,

How are you and how is your summer going?

This is possibly going to be the most spontaneous newsletter, my favorite one in a long time, something in between a stream of consciousness and the late-night emails I have been sending to my best friends from Italy, since the beginning of our journey: mostly short sentences, increased punctuation, as to fit in as much experience as possible in the shortest amount of time, without sacrificing the intention and the care.

I am writing from the airport, leaving Paris, and returning to Turin, where Catherine has been staying for the past 5 days with my parents, while Ben and I went to London and Paris.

Let’s start from the end of the month; it will all make sense when we circle back in. I find that writing about something that has not yet ended but that is about to, makes the story raw and alive, intimate, and welcoming.

Paris. Oh Paris. I am so in love with this city. Apart from the first day, when, as you know from Instagram, I suffered a severe depressive episode, has been everything I had dreamed of. We walked for hours, shopped, ate fabulous food, and soaked in the beauty, the style, the language, the charm, and the elegance.

We visited the Officine Universelle Buly, where we bought perfume and elegant fragranced matches. We found presents, drank the best citrus tonic, and saw Charlotte Ginsberg at the Japanese restaurant where we had our first dinner. Paris inspired me to embrace my European self once in LA, and care less about the hips and the curves, but just go out in the world and feel gorgeous, to explore my style and have fun with it.  

Women, in Paris, dress beautifully, and it’s not about money or designer clothes. It’s not high fashion; it’s eye for the details, is effortless effort, is carrying themselves well whether they wear a Chloé trouser or a €50 one from a local boutique. I am into it a lot.

*Travel guide note: we stayed at the Hotel Montalembert. Not usually my style of hotel, but where we felt at home. It was the perfect location, with delightful hospitality, and fabulous pastries for breakfast.

The few days we spent in London, right before Paris, were priceless for the people we got to see: my therapist Cei, our friends Hattie and Charley, our friends Glynn and Glenys.

The weather was intriguing, the city beautiful as always, chilly, intense, fast, austere; I saw it changed. Or maybe I have. And I am liking the way I am changing.

We bought our favorite teas during a long visit at Fortnum & Mason, and Ben bought his first Barbour jacket, in dark green, and he looks handsome in it.

*Travel guide note: we stayed at the Corinthia Hotel, the same hotel we stayed at during the last TPHB tour, in 2017, when I was pregnant and very sick. It was nice to experience its elegance and class, now healthy and filled with energy and excitement.

Over the course of July, especially during our perfect and relaxing stay in Rimini, on the coast of Emilia Romagna, I noticed, for the first time, an increasing number of grey hair. I have also fallen in love with my haircut, have relaxed more in my body, and even wore a flattering two-piece.

*Travel guide note: we stayed at the beautiful Grand Hotel Rimini and had the honor to live in the Fellini suite, not only the most elegant and with a breathtaking view of the coast, but decorated with memories of Fellini, that made it unique.

Hospitality at its best there, as well as food, and quality of life. If there was a city in Italy where I would move with Catherine and Ben, that would be Rimini.

Ben’s rehearsal schedule was suddenly changed, so we are scheduled for returning to Los Angeles a week earlier than we had planned. A part of me is unhappy about that, but knowing my parents are coming to Los Angeles a few weeks later makes this departure from Europe easier to take.

And since I have ended with a return story, I am going to share with you a piece of writing that came to me as I floated in the sea earlier in the month, thinking about home, about where home is.

The paragraph you are about to read is part of an essay for my next book in the works.

The following day, second to last before we returned to Torino, I floated in the sea, leaving the waves of the day before behind me. I began to think about home.

Where do you feel at home?” People often ask me.

“Where is home?” I often ask myself.

Ben and I, given the situation in the USA, increasingly agree that California is a bubble. We seriously discuss where we want to raise our daughter, not unaware of the difficulties my home country especially, (but Europe in general) have been going through for decades, culturally, politically, artistically.

“Where is home?”

The water smelled like watermelon, and I became aware of the answer, while floating in the Adriatic Sea, wearing a two-piece bought on Viale Amerigo Vespucci, where stores stay open until 11pm and where people gather during the long summer nights, after late dinners. The smell in the air, where I bought the flattering two-piece, has a unique aroma: after sun lotion, warm waffle cones ready to be filled with cantaloupe gelato, and marine breeze”

“Home is where I am happy to return no matter how beautiful the vacation has been,” I answered.

I don’t know why, but I am never sad to be returning to Los Angeles.

I still have two more weeks in Italy, but I can already say that this summer has been transformative for me as a woman, for me as a writer and a chef, for me as a wife, as a mother, as a human being.

See, every time I leave my bubble, I fear the world out there. But every time I wander and walk the world out there, I have nothing but good things to report. Maybe, my feet have a blister or two, but people are good, people are nice. No matter where you go, if you go into the world with a genuine smile, you get a genuine smile in return.

Every morning, when I kiss Catherine on her way to school, I remind her: “Listen to your teachers, look for the helpers, and be a helper.”

I have started to tell myself the same.

Today, in the world, I make sure to listen to my teachers, I am a helper, and when in need, I look for helpers.

Nothing can go wrong when I do that. And if something does go “wrong”, I know, fearlessly, that there will be a helper taking my hand to go through it. We may not speak the same language but smiles and a strong hand to hold on to are without borders.

Happy continuation of summer, my friends. See you next month.

Ps. Fall classes will be announced soon, as well as opening for private consultations. But I still have 2 spots open for the August Zoom class (08/31 at 4pm pacific) on crêpe making. Ticket is $35 on Venmo @culinaryselfcare

Love,

Alice