Marsbarn Designs...

Day 7 where my coach turns into a pumpkin

Monday started as all of my days in Paris had started, with pastries, coffee, yogurt, and fruit.

And then we started our experiments in bending space and time, because leaving nirvana shouldn't be smooth, right?  There were four of us leaving for the airport at 9 am (the other couple in our party left at 7), and so we looked with consternation at the sedan that appeared to take us to the airport. Yes, four adults, 4 large overpacked suitcases, 8 pieces of carryon, and one sedan.  The three women in the party climbed into the backseat, then with purses and packs wedged between our knees, two large duffel bags were layered on top of us. 

Still, we arrived at the airport safely, and our spirits rallied as we cruised through security and immigration.  We then had two hours to wander the airport dutyfree shops and spend our remaining euros.  The flight from Paris to Minneapolis, although delayed by 30 minutes, was smooth and uneventful. I was pleased to discover than Quantum of Solace survived the translation into in-flight movie successfully. (Truly a mark of an exceptional movie!)  

And then we discovered the snafu that is international arrival at Minneapolis.  A gazillion people, all trying to make connections, struggling through immigration, bag pick up, customs, re-checking bags, and then the insult of one working x-ray machine as we watched the minutes tick by until our connection to Portland would abandon us.  Freed of the TSA we sprinted a "short way" (not my words) through one wing, the center of the airport, a second wing, and into our gate to find our flight boarding and the attendants beginning to give away unclaimed seats to standby.  We proffered our boarding passes, and walked onto the gangplank.

And that, was my trip to Paris.  This week of readjustment to "normal" life has included a dozen loads of laundry, Sweetheart G's tooth extraction (all four came out well), the removal of the Easter decorations, and lots of snuggletime with Big E and my girls.  Tonight is the school's auction and I am nervously waiting to see if anyone has money to spend.

And on the 6th day we visited the Orsay

Mom, Papa, and I woke up early on Sunday, the sixth and last full day in Paris. We rallied from Saturday's weariness with a bit of "must see things before we leave" fervor.

The Orsay was once a huge, beautiful train station.  Now it is a national museum featuring works of art created between 1848 and 1914.  Their collections are wide and varied and include a large selection of "Decorative Arts" like furniture, ceramics, and even recreated rooms with beautifully crafted paneling.

To give a sense of scale for the size of the building, the rosettes on the ceiling are 4 feet across, including the setting holding them are at least 5 feet across.  This is a huge light filled space.

The setting for the Orsay is wonderful, but I found the organization of the museum to be awkward.  The format for how art was grouped was hard to understand, so for example the 56 paintings by Monet held by the museum are in 8 separate sections, spread over two floors, of the museum.  With works spread out and intermingled with other artists, I found it difficult to compare paintings done over a lifespan.  And it was nearly impossible for me to spot trends with artists I was unfamiliar with.

Still there are wonderful, wonderful things to be seen at the Orsay.  The museum holds a fabulous collection of Pointillist paintings.

Oh, the little dabs of paint..

 

I love how they add up.

And the long suffering expression on this woman, who happens to be the wife of the artist.  Doesn't she seem to be saying, "Couldn't we buy food instead of paint this month?"  

We ate lunch in the cafe beneath this lovely translucent clock.

The food was lovely (quiche and salad with lemon meringue tart for dessert) and the waitstaff worked the tables with amazing proficiency.

After we'd "done" the Orsay, we headed back to the shopping center under the Louvre.  We had some last minute gift buying to do, and most of the independent shops were closed in our neighborhood.  It is interesting, stores and museums close on Sunday, or Monday, or Tuesday depending on their individual preference.   With our final shopping complete we headed back to the apartment.

On the way home I saw these people.. The woman in tight black dance pants was wiggling her hips in a totally overdone way, and then she was throwing her arms in the air in a move that could have either been a karate "crane" move or a "Walk like an Egyptian" move.  Then the men started to mimic her.  I had to stop and watch the spectacle.  Then it hit me.  Thriller.  They were doing the Thriller dance.  The woman started to fiddle with a CD player and I waited.  Would they break into organized dance?  Could I catch Parisians in mid-Thriller poses?  No. Despite watching from the shadows for more than 10 minutes they were not going to oblige me. So sad.

So we continued on our journey.  We collected dinner at a bakery (salmon quiche and a slice of onion bechamel pizza), and tried to force all of our newly found treasures into our suitcases.

Day 5, Um, I think I might be a little tired.

On Saturday, my fifth day in Paris, I felt a little tired.  Papa was done with his work, so he joined Mom and I for a stroll around our neighborhood and some highly educational and enriching shopping.  I picked up treats to bring home, and checked out several grocery stores, bakeries, and a coffee shop. (It was very tempting to pack a bag with mustard, pickles, and cheeses, but between weight allowances, fear of breakage (oh the scent of brine in ones suitcase) and customs, I stuck to pastries, tea, coffee, and candies.)  

Then, we went to lunch.

The Branly is a museum dedicated to indigenous arts of non-European parts of the world.  On top of the Branly is a glass roofed, very chic, restaurant.  I spent a good 45 minutes of our luncheon figuring out how the uniforms of the different staff corresponded to their duties.  (Men and women in the grey suits and black collarless shirts took food orders, tasted wine, and delivered food to tables but never left the floor; men in grey suit pants, white collared shirts and ties brought food and dishes on and off the floor but did not approach the tables; men in pinstripe suits floated and made sure all went well.)

Isn't this lovely? This is my first course of salad with parmesan and proscuitto on a warm round of fried polenta.  My second course was roast pork with a sesame glaze and pureed squash, and for dessert I had the most beautiful lemon tart with strawberries.

This was my favorite part of the meal. It is the "finis", or the treat after dessert to close the meal.  Here is a tradition I can totally embrace!

Someone asked me what surprised me most about Paris, and I have to say it was the price of beverages.  It is expensive to remain hydrated no matter what you're imbibing.  The price of a bottle of water at a restaurant varied from 3 to 7 Euros, soft drinks started at 4 Euros and topped out at 7 Euros for an 8 ounce glass bottle of coke (that's more than $10), juice wasn't any cheaper, nor was tea or coffee.  It was not unusual to find that wine or beer was less costly than water, but nothing was inexpensive.  It is true that you can ask for tap water in Parisian restaurants, but many won't serve it and if they do you've just labeled yourself as a complete outsider who is above the local traditions.  In the end, I just set a budget per day in Euros, figured my drinks into the price of the meal, and stopped thinking about the $9 liter of water I was drinking.

After our leisurely lunch we rolled walked around the neighborhood some more and did some window shopping.  All three of us were ready for a slower paced evening, so we stopped at a couple of bakeries and collected savory tarts for our dinner.  If you were to try and do Paris frugally, the bakeries would definitely be your friend.  We had a lovely dinner for three for the price of one entree at a modest restaurant, with all the water we could drink from our Britta filter.

Day 4, Gargoyles, Unicorns, and Chimera, Oh MY!

It is now Friday, in case you'd lost track, because goodness knows I couldn't keep the days straight while we were wandering.  Jen, Mom, and I had decided to save our feet and take the Metro to Ste Chappelle and Notre Dame.  

The Parisian Metro is like a spiderweb of intersecting lines.  It was easy enough to navigate, assuming you had a map, knew the end destination of the lines, and a knowledgeable guide (my Mom) to tell you when to hop on and off.

Our first stop above ground was Sainte Chapelle.  In a way, this elegant chapel continues my earlier fascination with reliquaries.  Ste Chapelle was originally constructed in 1248 with the specific duty of housing religious artifacts.  As with the other reliquaries we saw, the artifacts it was built to hold either no longer exist or are now held elsewhere.  

Today it is the beauty of Ste Chapelle that draws visitors. 

The stained glass windows are amazingly brilliant and bold.  The intensely colored windows tell the stories of saints, like a beautiful 750 year old graphic novel.  During World War II, all of the windows were removed prior to Germany's invasion, and then after the war they were reinstalled. 

In addition to the windows, the walls of Ste Chapelle are painted in amazing complexity. Some of my favorite details included the painted swags of fabric and the small demons and critters that were hidden in the woodwork.  The facial expressions of angels in reaction to Saints they clustered about were particularly telling, and even comical.

As we left Ste Chapelle, we had to stop and inspect the piles of stone bits that had been removed from the chapel.  Then it was on to Notre Dame.

Look! I remembered to take an wide exterior shot of a landmark! (Don't worry, it won't happen again..)

Our mission at Notre Dame (yes, we had a Mission) was to see gargoyles.  So we lined up along the side of the cathedral and waited for admittance into the bell towers.  Due to the size and the steepness of the stairs that wind up through the towers, they only let a handful of people in at a time.  This means long lines of people who must need entertainment. Interestingly the gypsies and souvenir sellers (miniature Eiffel tower on anyone?) stick to the front of the cathedral.  It is the performance artists who claim the tower goers.  I have to admit that I preferred the mime in the demented Einstein mask to the other options.  Sure he would sneak up behind people and hold their hands, but he wasn't picking pockets or running scams and he was very good natured when a startled woman hit him.

Of course, the wait, the long climb up increasingly tight spiraling staircases, and the mime watching were all worth it.  See the elephant chimera?  (He's a chimera not a gargoyle because he doesn't act as a water drain.) 

   

Oh and the view was wonderful.  The day was much clearer than our time on the Eiffel Tower.

You are so close to the stone creatures that you can see the debris and shells that were in the stone and have been revealed by weather and wear. 

After climbing up the first tower, walking across the open walkway among the gargoyles and chimera, 

waiting in a second line (no street performers here!), and climbing up even higher in the second tower you come to a second, higher walkway and a door that leads inside the bell tower.  It was pretty funny to find that the Easter Bunny had visited the giant bell.  

This is the view looking back along the spine of the chapel area to the back of the cathedral.  See the saints lined up on their pedestals?

This one's my favorite.  I don't know who he is, but I like that he's retained so much of his humanity and that his sculptor had a sense of humor.

And then, most happily, it was lunch time.  All that stair climbing and gargoyle watching makes a person peckish.  This beautiful creation was a ham, mushroom, cheese, and egg crepe accompanied by the Best coffee of the trip.

At this point (after lunch and before we could rope her into another museum) Jen took her leave of us. (Really, can you blame her?)  Refueled (and apparently stuck in the middles ages) Mom and I walked to the Cluny.  The Cluny, or the Musee National du Moyen Age, is a museum which was created in the 1840s to house one man's collection of medieval artifacts.  The collection has grown considerably since then.

The Hotel d'Cluny was built by rich abbots as a summer residence in the late 1480's next to and on top of the ruins of a Roman bathhouse. (Come on, that's pretty darn cool!)

The Cluny houses, among lots of other things, several sets of tapestries including a series of unicorn tapestries, illuminated manuscripts, original panes from Ste Chapelle (two thirds of Ste Chapelle's glass is original), and (remember those bits we saw piled outside of Ste Chapelle?) pieces of stone carving from Ste Chapelle, Notre Dame, and other churches from the era.  

This museum was the one, above all the others, that I most wished Big E could have been there to see.

We were about ready to head home at this point, but wait.. wait, what's that?

My wife senses are keenly honed, apparently.  We popped in, I took some photos for Big E, and we were back on the street on the search of a tea shop.

I bought some Kusmi tea on Bainbridge Island in Washington State last year, so we had to visit the shop while we were in the area.  We entered the shop while it was being photographed for a magazine spread (don't ask me which magazine, I didn't ask. I might have been a bit tired at this point.)

Then it was back to the apartment to drink some water, put up our feet, and recover enough to head out to dinner.

Dinner was a special affair at the Fontaine De Mars.  This restaurant is known for its wonderful food and trademark red and white check woven linens.  I had pork cheek with artichoke and foie gras for my main course.  It was wonderful. 

And for dessert I had a floating island.  This dessert of soft baked meringue floating in a pool of light custard is something I've seen Julia Child prepare but never had myself.  It was light and sweet and a lovely end of the day.

Even more photos, 'cause you know there's more

If you are wondering, "Hey aren't there more photos of flowers and neat statuary and random building details from Paris?", don't despair. I'm putting more photos up on Flickr.  I'm adding more every day, so keep on a checkin'.

More Monet, and the Louvre, Day 3

By the morning of the third day in Paris, I had hit my stride and I felt up to the monstrous undertaking that is the Louvre.  We breakfasted (oh the chocolate almond croissants!) and then headed out into the bright sunshiny world.  The weather (which I haven't mentioned yet) was glorious.  It stayed in the 60s with early morning clouds that gave way to brilliant sun.  Even the days that promised rain were only light showers easily overcome by sun.  Perfection for walking your tootsies off.

I cannot stress enough how much art is everywhere in Paris.  Statues surround you at every turn.  This sassy woman guards a bridge across the Seine. I loved the expression on her face, and the brightness of her golden sword. She is so ready to take all comers and teach them a lesson.

And this little marvel... honestly I kept getting left behind as I stopped to stare.

This is a lamp post.  A lamp post!  

Oh and then there is the oldest monument in Paris, the two thousand year old obelisk from Egypt. I think the greatest obstacle to walking about in Paris isn't the distances, or even the hazard which is street crossing. It is the threat of being distracted by the wonders that are constantly around you.

Our first official stop of the day was to tour the Musee de l'Orangerie.

The Orangerie was created specifically to hold a set of huge waterlily paintings created by Monet as a gift for the people of France.  The converted orangery has undergone several incarnations, the latest conversion added giant sky lights with special ceiling treatments to filter the light for ideal viewing.

There are oval shaped rooms with their walls covered with long expanses of waterlilies in different light and color variations.

In the gallery below this one, there are more paintings as well as traveling collections.  

From the Orangerie, we walked toward the Louvre, stopping along the way for a sandwich.  

I mentioned this before, but I'll mention it again here.  I, um, forgot to take a photo of the outside of the Louvre. This photo? Where you can see the glass pyramid in the background? The Louvre is incidental.  I was photographing the men in camo.  

The police forces (and there are many, many different branches and divisions) befuddled and enchanted me.  There were police guys in camo with red berets or blue berets with machine guns, then there were the round hats, the bus driver hats, the peaked navy style hats, there were officers with red brocade loops, there were blue BDU style uniforms, formal jacket uniforms, jodhpur pants, and uniform pants. They rode motorcycles, scooters, rollerblades, minivans, and drove Peugots. But with one exception (which I kick myself for passing up), there were all totally business and unaccessible for questions.

Where was I?

Oh,  the Louvre...

Did you know there was a  really nice shopping center under the Louvre?  Yep. And if you are visiting Paris and need a 4 Gig memory card for your camera, that's the place to go.  Honestly. It was the best deal in town.

And then we were inside.  What can I say about the Louvre, except that I was there for four hours and missed more than I saw?

Things that I adored at the Louvre...

The tapestries.  Oh lord, the details, the colors, the density of images, the skill, the story, the information of the time all captured in hand woven tapestries made almost 500 years ago.  And much to my frustration the gift shop had no books and no photos of them.  The lighting is kept purposefully dim to protect them so my photos are pitiful, but still I have to share.

This is a detail of one of the tapestries that make up 'The Hunts of Maximilian", a twelve panel set of tapestries commissioned by Emperor Maximilian.  Each panel represents a different month in the calender and the landscapes in the background are specific enough to place the scene geographically.  

This dark photo is of another set of tapestries which portray the history of Scipio. Here Scipio's forces fight the elephants of the Cathaginians.  Again the details and density of images is just amazing.

Another thing I was intrigued by were all of the reliquaries. They came is so many shapes, sizes, and forms, and puzzlingly they were all, every last one, empty.  I want to know what happened to all those prized, sacred grizzly bits.  When did the vessel for the object become more sacred than what it protected?

Oh, and the Mesopotamians with their giant winged protectors.  The details and texture in the ancient carvings were beautiful in their geometric simplicity.

And, of course, there was Joan.  I collected images of Joan of Arc for Sweetheart G, and this statue with Joan in her simple dress and armored shoes, with her plate nearby, was my favorite.

There was a point, around 5 pm, when my mom and I could go no further and we started the long walk home.  

There was so much we did not see.  I think Paris is one of those places where, in order not to drive  yourself insane with wanting, you have to admit that is the First Visit, but not the only one.  This is the only way I could walk away from the Louvre without tears.  Next time I will see more. Next time I will catch what I missed.

We were home by 6, and refueled by a shared macaroon, were ready to venture out again for dinner after 7 pm.  Dinner was a spontaneous stop at Cafe Central. We had streetside seating among a jumble of tables. You know those parking lots where you give the attendant your keys and cars are packed in like a game of Tetris?  The seating at this Cafe was like that.  Once seated, people at several tables would have to move for you to get out again.  Our waiter was a marvel.  He scurried between all of his tables (20, 30 tables? I don't know), without written notes bringing drinks and courses of food.  He knew who ordered what and where everything should go.  His table service was as much an art as the paintings we'd seen earlier in the day.

The food itself, I had a grilled sandwich with tomato, ham, and cheese and pomme frits.  My mom had an amazing asparagus risotto. Oh and desert! A cup of strong coffee with a touch of milk with three little bits of sweets (melon, pot de creme, and macaroon).

Day two, Giverny and Versailles.

My second day in Paris was the one where I woke up to realize that I'd lost a day somehow.  I'd left home on Monday, and now, suddenly, it was Wednesday.  Ah the marvels of modern travel and time change. Oh, so very much to do, and time tick-ticking away.

Breakfast. 

The most important part of the day.  

Really. 

Because there is nothing more important to eat while in Paris than pastries, and the best chance to sample them without guilt is in the morning.  Papa would venture out in the early AM to a Boulangerie and then we would sample them with our morning coffee, fruit, and yogurt.  Ah the lovely yogurt! (Why can Yoplait make lovely fruit yogurt with real fruit and incredible creamy goodness in Paris, but only makes artificial crap full of stabilizers here in the states?)

Fueled by tasty goodness, Mom and I ventured out into the early morning for a brisk two mile walk to the tour bus.  The plan was to take a full day tour to Giverny and Versailles while my jet lagged body caught up with my buzzing brain.  It was a grand plan.

The drive to Giverny was marvelous.  The morning was foggy and overcast, but the bright yellow fields of rapeseed glowed the same yellow as Monet's dinning room.  The only difficult part of the hour and twenty minute ride was not being able to get out and look at things.  Oh what I would have given for a private driver so we could have stopped to look at the ancient villages, crumbling castles, and enchanting rooms and homes built into the limestone cliffs.  Our guide (who was absolutely wonderful) called the cliff dwellings Troglodyte caves, and we passed one cliffside which sported the ruins of a Norman tower at the top, with an intact castle beneath and village cottages snugged up against the castle walls. We could see how some of the lower castle chambers were worked deep into the cliffside. We were told that the castle had been taken over by the Nazis in World War II, so they could keep control over the entire valley.

And then, there we were, at Giverny, the home of Claude Monet for the end part of his life. This is the view from Monet's bedroom window. 

  

The gardens were lovely.  The beds of tulips, pansies, fritillaria, and other bedding plants were organized in masses of blues, purples, reds, and yellows. There were warm colored beds, and cool colored beds.  

Across the road from the house is the lily pond, or Japanese gardens, Monet built. As we walked around the pond, the mist burned off to be replaced by brilliant sunshine.

My mom and I were able to see the light change, just as Monet watched had. Oh it was magic!

I think vacation photography could be used as a sort of personality test. I took more than 600 photos on my trip to Paris, and as I sorted through them after I'd returned home, I realized a trend in my photography.  

The vast majority of my photos were of details that appealed to me.

And while I spent 15 minutes trying to photograph this bumble bee in Monet's garden, I totally overlooked the chance to take a photo of the front of the house at Giverny.  Likewise I didn't take wide shot photos of the any of the museums I visited; not Versailles or the Louvre or the Orsay.

After a couple of hours at Giverny, we were driven to Moulin de Fourges, about twenty minutes away, for a catered lunch.  Then it was on to Versailles.  Instead of going via the freeway, our amazingly talented bus driver Stephan took us on back roads through tiny villages.  The twisting single lane roads were so tight that he had to pull in the mirror on the bus to make the turns between buildings.  Again I wished we could have stopped and explored.  

Ah Versailles,  a palace built to intimidate and rule.  I have to confess, between you and I, that I would have preferred to explore any of the intimate little towns we passed to the blinding expanses of Versailles.  Am I a heathen? Ya, probably.  

The riches, the wealth, the mass and grandeur of Versailles can't be argued with, but with all the statuary, the gilt, the amazing paintings, the Hall of Mirrors.. what was my favorite part?

The door knobs.  I loved the details on the doornobs from the Hall of Mirrors out into the gardens.

What did I want to see, but couldn't?  

Not the huge, sprawling gardens with their immense scale (we didn't have the time to even walk down into the gardens proper).

I wanted to see the kitchens (which are not open to view at all).

I wished we could have toured the dark, nasty bits like the kitchens and the rooms where servants slept.  When you tour Versailles, and other former palaces like the Louvre,  you see the grand spaces that were for show, but not the rooms where real people lived.  

Then, with sacrilegious thought tumbling around in my brain, we trundled back onto the bus and returned to Paris.  

These technicolor treats are french macaroons.  They are meringue like cookies sandwiched with flavored creams, with no coconut in sight.  This particular batch was (left to right) chocolate, pistachio, raspberry, and coffee.  Many  bakeries sell these lovely treats, and they vary in size from the size of quarters to this size that is nearly three inches across.  The Patisserie de la Tour Eiffel (where these were made) was my favorite spot to buy them.  The flavors of the fillings were frisky and bold, and absolutely divine.  (The lemon, coffee, pistachio, and caramel ones were my favorites!)

For dinner that night I had a lovely tagine with lamb, artichoke, and preserved citron on a couscous bed.  Oh, yum!  Oh, and to go with my dinner I had the best mint tea.  It was sweet, hot mint tea served with pine nuts.  The pine nuts were layered with fresh mint in my glass, and the hot tea was poured over the top so the hot drink was nutty and oh so good!  For dessert I had a scoop of coconut ice cream which was more coconut than cream, very tasty. My mom had a sabayon over fruit which had been browned in a broiler until the custard took on the color and taste of a perfectly toasted homemade marshmallow.  Oh, de-lish, and something neither of us had ever seen or heard of.

A note here about the people of Paris.  I speak next to no French. The vast majority of my approximately 60 words of French are food related (thank you Julia Child!).  I was completely impressed with the patience, good humor, and generosity of the people of Paris when dealing with us.  My favorite part of this meal was the waiter, who had great fun teasing us about our table's collective food knowledge.  "You know sabayon? Pah!" followed by a huge teasing grin.

Eiffel Tower

The Eiffel Tower was larger than I'd expected. 

(Okay, so most of landmarks of Paris were larger than I'd anticipated (except for the Mona Lisa which was as small as I'd thought.)) 

Beyond its huge size, I was impressed with the lovely details in its construction.  The little swooshes and curlicues tickled my little brain.  This addition of art and beauty into every detail were themes that I kept coming back to through out my week.

This is one of the double decker elevators that take you up to the first observation deck.  You wait in a huge line under the tower to pay and then enter one of the legs of the tower. There you squash into one of two levels of the elevator to ride a diagonal path into the heart of the tower.

From that first level, half way up the tower, I could gaze out at the city and spot our apartment. (It's to the left of the construction scaffolds.) And then, we waited in a second huge line to go up further, in a second more linear elevator.

Which is where we spotted this guy, working either the best, coolest job in the world, or the worst, most horrible job, depending on your feelings about heights and harnesses.

And then, after a bit of stair work, you can gaze out at Paris spread beneath you with all of its (or "her" depending on your feeling about city gender) spokes and angles laid out for your approval.  Have I mentioned how huge Paris is?  How impressive, and intimidating, and overwhelming it is?  They sell champagne by glass at the top of the tower in case you need a bit of a liquid courage before you set off to see the many sights.  There is so very much to see and soak in.  Quite a challenge, let me tell you.

Instead of a glass of bubbly, we headed to a cafe for lunch (Salade Nicoise) and then back to the apartment for a predinner/post jetlag nap.  

Pulling myself out of bed, we ventured out for dinner. I had a perfect potato omelet, with fluffy eggs wrapped around crisp golden potato cubes which may have been browed in duck fat (but I was too glazed to ask).  For dessert the table shared a slice of Tarte Tatin and a Creme Caramel.  Then it was back home, where I stayed upright until 10 pm and then collapsed into bed.  Day one, complete.

(A note about Tarte Tatin. The caramelized apple tart is a dessert I want to love. The theory seems so sound! But the hazards of burnt caramel or tough crust or mushy apples impede my search for that moment of bliss I'm sure it should carry. Still the research is pretty awesome, and there are definitely worse quests to set yourself.  This Tarte Tatin was good, but not the end all.)

Home away from home, with a view.

The trip to Paris was smooth and uneventful. 

True my first flight was over an hour late leaving, and I did get to know my seat mate better than I planned (for a 5' 3" man, he sprawled amazingly, and at one point I awoke to his hand on my thigh (he was asleep, and those seats are narrow...)), but the connection in Minneapolis was smooth and effortless and I had a good traveling buddy.  (No, not the sprawler... Jennifer, a soon to be roommate from my step-father's office).  Once in the Charles De Gaulle airport with my passport stamped, I collected my luggage and hailed a cab with Jennifer.  

Driving in Paris is a lot like Cirque du Sole. You are fairly confident that no one is going to die, but you marvel at the impossibilities before you.  I kept thinking, "I didn't know someone could do that!" and there was a mysterious grace and one mindedness with the other performers/drivers. Everyone moved to the same foreign melody.  I marveled at how fast and close the other vehicles were to us.  And there was a moment, as we plunged at full speed into the rotary near the Arc de Triomphe, at a right angle to the circling traffic, that I think the rules of physics were disregarded completely.  

And then, there we were, outside of our apartment building.  My mom preceded our arrival by a couple of days, and had briefed me with the secrets of how to enter our building (there were codes, code names, secret knocks, and a magic box. All quite hush, hush you know.).  Everything worked as described, and once past the vestibule, I stood before what was supposed to be the elevator... except I'd never seen an elevator that was only 20 inches deep and 3 1/2 feet long.  

(Note: If I weren't standing at an angle, my shoulders would almost brush the sides of the box, and the mirror makes the space look deeper than it was.)

We had to take turns going up, because only one person and their luggage would go up at a time.  It was a magic box indeed!

This was the view from our dining/livingroom/kitchen window.  

Pitter-pat went my heart.

Paris.  I was there.

(View down our street)  

I love these five story buildings. I love their asymmetry and how they have been personalized through time.  So many details, so much personality, and so much beauty.  

(View from bedroom window.)

There were six of us staying in the two bedroom flat.  There was Papa D, Grand M (my mom), Nita and her husband Chris, Jennifer, and myself.  Papa and Nita were in Paris on business, and the rest of us were, um, crashing in their flat to keep them company... after all, we wouldn't have wanted them to feel lonely, right?  

After setting down our bags, and dusting ourselves off, we were off to the Eiffel Tower.  

Body returned, brain a bit lagging.

I've been home for more than 12 hours now, but my brain still feels a bit sloshy, so this may be a little scattered.

Paris was wonderful.  Simply wonderful.  As instructed; I took photos (hundreds and hundreds of them); ate many a lovely pastry, and walked until I couldn't walk any more.  Right now, I'm in the midst of going through my photos, unpacking, and digesting.  It is good to be home.