We survived the first year of marriage, a critical period in any relationship because something changes in your brain. Regardless of how long you’ve lived with someone and how well you get along, passing from bf/gf status to married status triggers a series of feelings that resemble panic. In any case, it is said that the first year of marriage is particularly difficult so I’m proud we made it out alive.
To celebrate the year, which has flown by like a stupid French bobo on a moped, we spent the day indulging ourselves. Beginning with a morning in the kitchen, preparing whole wheat pancakes with strawberries and Canadian maple syrup with scrambled eggs, coffee and leftover Peanut Butter Banana Bread (thanks Peanut Butter Boy!) followed by a longggggg period of rest and digestion.
I was then led on a long walk, stopping in shops in the marais, a quick drink on rue des archives just to end up on rue de la verrerie in front of the Thai Home Spa. It was a fabulous surprise, especially since I had been looking into spas/massage treatments recently. The deco immediately transported us elsewhere… sometimes just being in an inner-city-environment that pulls you out of the city with style and warmth is just as good an escape as physically getting out of the city.
We were led to a private room that smelled of warm oils, incense and flowers with soft, sensual lighting. Céd got us a duo massage that was to last an hour, complete with aromatherapy oils and soothing sounds. We were given paper underwear to put on and told to take everything else off. Luckily I’ve had a massage once before where I had to force myself to put aside my American, puritan sensibilities and let it all hangout so I was not really taken aback by the thought of covering my girly bits with a loose paper-bikini brief. I was, however, surprised to see that Ced was to put on a black g-string. If my purse hadn’t been stored in a locker in the lobby, you better believe I would have immortalized the moment with a photo.
The massage started off rather rough…I thought she was going to crack my rib cage, but once she started massaging the knots out of my muscles, I was like silly putty. As I realized with yoga, I am very rarely able to achieve complete relaxation but this was doing the trick. That is, until my masseuse said to me in broken French “détendez-vous Madame!!” (Relax, Madame!!) followed by a series of “vous êtes trop tendue au bras et jambes. Faut venir une fois par mois. C’est pas bien de laisser les jambes comme ca” (You’re arms and legs are too tense. You should come once a month. It’s not good to let your legs get like that). Ced giggled. EVEN when I think I’m relaxed, I’m not! Nonetheless, it felt amazing and my bones/muscles have been a little sore since. If I could afford it I would go back once a month.
Oiled, relaxed and dressed, we were ready to make our way to dinner at Villa Spicy in the 8th. I had come across their website on lafourchette.com and thought it looked like a relaxing, trendy place to celebrate the anniversary. The breezy-beach deco with straw chairs took me back to my summers at Hilton Head Island, SC. The meal was decent but nothing extraordinary. It was trying too hard to be upscale and trendy but ended up being pretentious. But hey, we got a complimentary bottle of wine for having made our reservation on lafourchette.com and the desserts were rich and yummy.
Roasted chicken with olive oil mashed potatoes
Tulipe de sorbets (framboise, griotte, citron vert)
Essentially, a piece of French toast with Brioche, topped with caramel sauce, crème de lait ice cream and mint. Céd needed an insulin shot after that one….
