Dale Newcomb Ballowe | SandyBeachGirl

Le quatorze Julliet from 58 Tour Eiffel

One of my favorite stories to tell on Donny is how he took me to the City of Lights for my birthday. This is the man who does not like to travel. “But you do,” he says. He gets a great deal offer from Air France and we are off. It is amazing. I have been before on a Wooster Group working trip for Marty where Emily & I get to tag along and play. I know just how amazing it is. Donny is a newbie. He falls completely in love. Our suitcases have not hit the floor back home before he is online looking for the next opportunity to go back.

Over the following years we go again and again. Donny always finds us a pied a terre, often on Île Saint-Louis in the middle of the Seine. This little island is in the heart of the city. Notre Dame is its backdrop.

In the summer of 2010 I get a last minute unsolicited opportunity to illustrate Donna Deekens children’s book Santaland A Miller & Rhoads Christmas for The History Press. I have three weeks to produce 26-30 full page color illustrations. I am pretty confident that I can do this but never having done so I am not at the 100% level of certainty. Donny offers to take me to Paris to do the work. No distractions. Surrounded by centuries of good karma art.

It’s mid-July. Through no deliberate planning Donny has secured the perfect artist’s flat. A true north light. Huge windows that swing open right beside the coffee table which also raises up to be a dining or, for me, work table. It could not be more perfect. I begin. It’s a huge assignment and I put myself to task everyday before we break for relaxation.

It is a trip full of wonderful happenstance events at every turn. We have planned nothing and so many amazing things falls into our laps. Two days in I wake to a plethora of planes flying overhead in formation. I snap photos and post them online. Donny’s best friend since grammar school days, Dale Newcomb Ballowe, advises us that we are witnessing Bastille Day. Where can we view the evening fireworks we ponder. The Eiffel Tower of course. Donny decides to try for seating at one of the restaurants. He succeeds. We will have a great meal and a spectacular view. Our cab driver takes us as close as he can get. The tower is blocked off and closed to the public. We get our passes and a ride to the restaurant in the service elevator.

We build incredible memory upon memory every trip and this one is no exception. We see those love locks on Pont de l’Archevêché when the controversy is in its infancy (the tradition migrated to Paris in 2008). Donny realizes that the Tour de France will end a few days after our trip is scheduled to be over. He rebooks our flight and extends our flat dates. We will get to see the final laps! The support vehicles are more entertaining than the cyclists. Miles and miles of endless cars, trucks, buses loaded with equipment. We see the final laps but blink and you miss them, they are so fast.

We witness a wedding procession down the central street on our tiny mid-Paris island. We take a river dinner cruise and see Paris fade from day into night as we dine on delicacies. The boat takes us farther up river than we have ever walked and we are intrigued by the glimpse of a modern Paris we never see. We have Chocolat L’Africain at Angelina’s a must for us every trip.

We happen upon a rehearsal for a concert which we decide to attend and do. It is Paris awesome. We find a copy shop to make duplicates of all my pen and ink illustrations so that I’ll have backup for coloring. Later back in the states when I need to make a few copies of last minute requested illustrations I realize how lucky we’ve been. The Paris copies are far superior and at that they cost next to nothing.

I finish the last illustrations and lower the table back to coffee sipping level as the sounds of rock band after rock band at Paris Plage drift through the open terrace windows. We wander through this summer fun time where truck loads of sand are brought in and endless outdoor events scheduled to give Parisians the feel of a petite vacation. Yes, Paris always is a celebration.