When Worlds Collide
Paris in New York. Plus, soooo many links, Combos, and more!
“ETA? Are you here yet?”
“A few miles away.”
“Off the highway, then?”
“I think we are here.”
*runs barefoot from the backyard into the front yard*
There is a certain kind of anticipation that comes when a) you’ve talked about something forever and it is finally coming to fruition, and b) you are about to comingle worlds. Those worlds being your Current/Now world of Paris, where friends who only recently learned you collect Barbie dolls live, and your Forever/Then world of New York, where your family who has been storing those Barbie dolls for decades live.
Like, how can a person you love and trust for years; whom you text both one-word statements and detailed soliloquies sans explanation, through space and timezones, not know the very whole of you? Not know your parents’ first names or that you shared a room with your sister growing up or caught crabs in the summer or that there was a chocolate Lab named Jade before there was a black Lab named Maggie?
An expat friendship is a unique kind of friendship. It’s likely an adult friendship, for one. You’re not 16, and looking for someone to share going out tops or a joint after drama class. It’s a friendship formed on the bonds of having taken a brave leap of faith into the foreign and unknown as a fully formed human; a friendship established because each party needs someone to commiserate and complain and boast and share a bottle or three after surviving another visa appointment. If nurtured the way you treated those 16-year-old friendships, many of which you still maintain to this day, an expat friendship can, and likely will, become so much more. At which point, you may choose to cross the border from Current/Now Land into Forever/Then Land shaking up the space-timezone continuum and changing the course of history and the future of humankind forever.
I’m being dramatic, of course. But yesterday one of my dear friends from Paris came to my hometown in New York with her daughters and got to see where I grew up and where I continue to come each August. Only one other friend has “crossed the border” in this direction so far and it’s an indescribable, warm and fuzzy feeling.
It was a whirlwind of a day for us both. I was pumped up on a large French vanilla iced coffee, having arrived only a day earlier, eager to show and share. She was pumped up on road trip adrenalin, eager to listen and learn while also catering to a teenager whose flip-flop had broken, and a 10-year-old who adorably takes photos of everything her blue eyes see. We ate bagels smeared with scallion cream cheese and my Mom’s classic “French Toast Thing” soaked in maple syrup. Then, my Dad took us out on the boat and told us about landfills and green fly traps and Egrets and erosion, and they watched, impressively, as he navigated the windy waterways with effortless ease. As Parisian-Virginians who summer on the Chesapeake, I didn’t have to worry about anyone tripping over bow lines or getting bored of nautical talk. They fit in and soaked it all up, while not minding the unplanned possibility of getting soaked by whitecaps in the bay. To cap it off, we popped to the boardwalk for soft-serve by the ocean across which we both met only seven or so years ago. A lifetime and also yesterday.
How do you possibly cram all your former lives and memories into an afternoon? To explain your core, your being, your evolution? To show and share; to inform and impress? Answer: You don’t. Rather, you make new. You create your own Then for the future Now to reminisce in whatever world you choose to inhabit as the You you’ve become. How fortunate we are to have this opportunity. Bon week-end, friends. xx — Sara
Clickable
If there’s a “Girl Dinner,” there’s also a “Husband Meal.” | GQ
When friends get married in the Guatemalan jungle. | Outside
Searching for sperm aka “first date donor details.” | Esquire
The wisdom and chill of a “debut” author at 65. | Electric Lit
Remembering Tony Bennett, the Italian mensch. | Vulture
“Fast Car” is now a country hit. But is that a good thing? | WaPo
On brotherhood, pizza, and grief. | Lit Hub
The thrill of watching…and watching… La Tour. | The New Yorker
The Indigo Girls in a Barbie Girl world. | The NY Times
“Meat breath? Not cute.” Vegan dating apps are here. | Bon Appetit
Aiden, I beg you. Please just don’t. | The Cut
A final solo adventure before motherhood. | Conde Nast Traveler
Ken is Elon Musk, a “plus one defined by his absence.” | The Atlantic
Thirst trap TikTok’s are hot, hot, hot! | The Cut
Agree: let’s dial it back on the burrata. | Grub Street
Protesting driverless cars one cone at a time in SF. | The Guardian
Barbie on a budget is still Barbie. | LA Times
No more multi-tasking. | The NY Times
Long live journalism! | The New Yorker
Watchable
In honor of Irish singer, songwriter, and activist Sinéad O’Connor, who died tragically last week, here’s her iconic video for the sing-at-the-top-of-your-lungs-while-driving-in-the-car-or-in-the-shower ballad “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
Currently Overthinking…
…rear mezzanine or standing floor for Here Lies Love performance…
Souvenir: Combos
I’m back in the States this month, which means I’ve already hit up Trader Joe’s for all the snacks, which reminded me of snacks from my youth, including these artificial bites. I liked the pizza flavor, but could only eat about five before I started regretting my life choices. What about you?
I never bought those snacks!