Paris Par Jour

The thread of thought from my (not so) recent trip to Paris has arrived. Sorry for the delay. Its on par with my journey to get there. I'll not keep it brief.  I connected through JFK and missed the flight due to delays.  Option 1 - stay overnight and lose a precious day a Paris. Option 2 - run to another terminal to take the soon to leave BA flight through London, but arrive same day as expected. Option 2 please!  It was a miles ticket afterall - can't be choosy.

Tired but happy, I arrived at the hotel for a needed nap. My dear friend, whom I was also meeting this trip in a couple days, would be coming from CA to celebrate her 40th bday. She and I had discovered Paris (you don't visit for the first time, you discover it truely) many years ago in college. And though I'd spent much time in Paris in between, it was only fitting we return to celebrate there. Don't let the sickening start fool you. On the bus from the airport to Denfert I noticed a building being torn down. I thought about whomever had built it, worked on it, crafted all the pieces in their place and now it was no longer. A fleeting moment of reflection in route to memorable things.

The week was purposeful and then not so. I had a list of 'must do's' for the relocation planning and that was as far as my planning went. The rest was fair game and flowed with ease at the whims of whatever 'really want to see' things my friend was eager to do. For my 'must do' part of the trip, I visited a couple schools and a few apartments. When I turned the corner at the end of Rue Pierre Semard where it meets the square, it was indeed a magical moment; as if all the sounds I heard on the street had been orchestrated to stop for a few seconds while I stood there. I walked around the corner at Square Montholon and leaned against the side of the building to acknowledge the moment and the clarity of decision. Yes, this would be our home here. Someone pinch me. The apartment was perfect.

With that behind me and feeling such relief, we easily filled the remaining days with memories to keep us for another 20 years. We ate macarons (despite the hype), we observed, we pet the cat that casually entered the restaurant, and we tried so many restaurants I lost count (including the restaurant that isn't a restaurant - awkward). We attended the Quatre Saisons concert (Vivaldi's Four Seasons) live in the Sainte Chapelle (a tradition Paris holds every year), had lunch in the Musee D'Orsay cafe, relished in its lavishly painted walls and feeling slightly royal. We walked until my feet nearly disjoined themselves from my ankles.

We shopped, ritualistically and sometimes without intent, as if we had no other place to be that day or evening; as if shopping in Paris was so casually normal. We visited exhibits and new places she nor I had been before. She did fabulous research. I did get food ick, which stole away one precious evening of conversation with two polite French brothers who were keen to know what we thought of the French and wanted to practice their English. But, at least we laughed all night about how the dessert my friend ordered looked like chocolate boobs. It has since been deemed the "impolite dessert" for our archives.

My return trip was surreal - 815 km/hr in route to NC, holding the realization of what we were about to embark on. I sat motionless in my seat, still unable to make out the words of the American Airlines captain announcement under my headphones.