A Stroll in the City of Light

A Stroll in the City of Light

Stu, contemplating the Metro by the Louvre

We arrived at the train station and were picked by our friend Patrick. We met him years ago when we lived in Amsterdam.  Back then he was uncomfortable with English but the years of working for Air France created an Anglophone. (I can hear Patrick laughing.  His English sounds A-M-A-Z-I-N-G next to my high school French). We briefly discussed Brexit and chuckled at the state of Europe and the world.

We drove to his new home (that he moved to six years ago) slightly outside the city in his Beetle with an Automatic Transmission! (Everyone drives a stick here.) The car ride was memorable.  I think it gave me PTSD.  I heard on TV that Paris has one "stop" sign.  I believe it.  Years ago a bus ride went like this:  Drive as fast as you can in the right lane, cut off the traffic instead of running into a bridge.  Repeat, but let's try it at a higher speed.  Intersections are opportunities to go around people.  Who needs lanes?  Oddly, no one honks and it all works out. No one screams, Mange merde et morte!  Fortunately, we made it to his flat safely.

We only had two days in Paris this time. I remember wanting to see Europe as a child and thinking, My great grandparents crossed that ocean once.  Europe could be on the moon.  It (getting to Europe) was never going to happen to a boy from Youngstown, Ohio.  Not even Youngstown, Ohio, USA because isn't everyone you know in 'USA'?  I am blessed to be back in Europe again. I do not take it for granted.  I love Paris.  I am sure a lot of people say that. But I really love Paris.  When a security question like, "What's your mother's maiden name?", or "City you were born in?", or "What is your favorite city?", Paris jumps to mind. Stu loves me in Paris too. I am goofy, silly, and full of boundless energy.  Kiss me like an idiot.  Dance with me.  I'm going to lick you. You get the picture. Paris makes me happy.  To quote Dr. Evil, "What the French call,  I don't know what".

We decided to walk around the city one day and see the 20th century modern art museum, the Pompedieu Center the next.

Since we have been to the city a few times, we decided just to walk like a herd of two in any direction and at any moment.  Left? Sure.  Right here?  OK.  Part of what makes Paris so special is the mass transit and the ability to walk much of the city. You can pretty much walk until you drop. No block disappoints from the tiniest alley to the grandest boulevard, you can find something if you are willing to do the looking.  Stay in a strange neighborhood off the beaten path and explore open-air markets and shops then hop on the Metro to see the rest of the loud Americans in shorts.

I posted a picture on Facebook from the French part of Belgium and my aunt thought I was in France. I get a text something like "Get me something". What if I were in Martinique, then what?  I read about a fascinating Art Nouveau  building that happened to be across from the Eiffel Tower.  This was the perfect area to "get her something".  We started texting her the nastiest tourist "finds" we could locate and get her opinions. I would act sincerely interested in an object and we would take photos pretending to select the right item. See you in a bit! Be back later! A bientôt!   On a previous phone call my unnamed aunt said, If it fits Stu I can always alter it! Perhaps we will take her up on it instead of the beret and mime paint.

Shopping for Auntie

More shopping for Auntie

I found the ultimate Tour d'Eiffel. I called her and told her I didn't love her enough to buy her the WIFI one with 50 color settings standing at least a full foot tall.  Perhaps something pink with rhinestones would be more in order...

29 Avenue Rapp

The view from 29 Avenue Rapp

We walked around the Tower, then along the Seine, up the Champs-Élysées, and towards the Louvre.  At one point along the Champs-Élysées, we ran across a salsa dance party.  Stu salsa-ed as a bystander and I stood their like a white guy.

As an aside I crazily mispronounced something at Starbucks in Albuquerque and caught myself.  The cashier said, It must suck when are not Latin.  I loved her.

Men, splashing about near the Louvre

The Louvre, entering from the Tuilleries

How French... a Deux Chevaux... a baguette, a beret and a bottle of wine in the boot for sure

It was starting to get late so we headed to an Art Nouveau Metro station when I suggested we walk over to Notre Dame.  It was only three blocks away.  Can you see a medieval cathedral enough times?  One thing about old things made of stone.  They are always restoring them.  This time around, the work was being done near the back side of the church so we could actually see the front of the church.  In my opinion there is a much nicer chapel hidden on the island than Notre Dame but the chapel lacks the grand square.  After our pilgrimage, we headed to the Metro for our ride home--once we traversed the underground labyrinth to reach our train platform.