Inspiration: Not MIA

Someone asked me the other day if I have not been posting on my blog because I missed Paris so much and had nothing inspiring to say about the United States.

This comment is, in retrospect, a bit insulting--not only to the United States as a whole, but to me as a writer. While I love the romance and theoretical notion that Paris is where every writer MUST be in order to create melifluous prose on a regular basis, I am not actually only inspired by Paris. The cafe culture certainly ameliorates any efforts to put pen to paper (or finger to key). That much is not just a Hemingway myth, as I found it to be marvelously true. But a writer can write anywhere. I think.

I hope.

And I do definitely miss France; I miss the food, I miss the anonymity, I miss the feeling that the world was at my fingertips and that everyday was an intercultural lesson in and of itself.

But I live in Charleston, and this city is equally impressive and amazing. For one thing, the food is incredible here as well--not only the world-class restaurants that seem to draw James Beard accolades like moths to a flame--but also the commitment to local produce and seasonal ingredients. Charleston is a lot like Europe in those regards actually. The great news for the pastry afficionado in me is that Macaroons bakery makes a mighty fine, authentically French, croisssant. You can imagine how thrilled I am that the people around here definitely share my affinity for butter. And I just ate at a new resto this past weekend where the french fries outdid anything I consumed in Europe. Yes, Belgium I am talking to you. Please try les frites at The MacIntosh: scrummy beyond beyond. So it is hard to say I miss Parisian food when the culinary delights here are definitely up to par--bien sur!

Additionally, my intercultural needs are being met: as a native New Englander habitating in South Carolina, my life is actually rife with such opportunities. And at least here I can speak English whilst having gross misunderstandings about cultural codes with my neighbors. Rather, I can speak some semblance of English, depending on how deep the Southern drawl of my conversational counterpart.

Of course I miss Paris. But it was my preoccupation with other writing projects that rendered me "blog-less" for the past month, not the fact that I was uninspired by no longer having the city of light as my backyard. Charleston inspires me every day; I am excited to jump back in to life here. And, as the sun actually shines here, I believe I am going to enjoy being back in this city of light immensely.