Bonjour! I hope you enjoyed my posts this week as I took you on the journey of my trip to Paris last spring. I often hear people refer to big trips as a “trip of a lifetime”. It makes me cringe when I hear this because that means it’s a one time deal, never going to happen again. What kind of thinking is that? Nothing for me will ever be a once in a lifetime, I promise that to myself. If it was great once, why not enjoy it again and that’s why I returned to France. If you have a yearning to travel, just do it. It will change you in a way you never would have imagined. Here is my final post from Paris in 2014…..
We made the most of our final afternoon in Paris. Sadness has overcome me today for I feel so at home in this city.
It’s 12:00 a.m. Saturday in Paris and we’re hours from heading to Charles de Gaulle for our flight home. Kate and I had a leisurely day strolling through our favorite neighborhoods, Saint Germain and the Latin Quarter. We made stops at cafes, patisseries, Bon Marche – the oldest department store in the world, the original Bloody Mary Bar, a wine bar, and finally ended the evening at Le Saint Germain for Foie Gras Terrine, Duck Confit, Creme Brûlée and of course wine, wine and more wine.[shareprints gallery_id=”4606″ gallery_type=”slider” gallery_position=”pos_center” gallery_width=”width_80″ image_size=”large” image_padding=”0″ theme=”dark” image_hover=”false” lightbox_type=”slide” titles=”true” captions=”true” descriptions=”true” comments=”true” sharing=”true”]We wonder how many miles we’ve put on our feet, walking. Doesn’t matter, either way I know I’m ready to run that half-marathon I have coming up next month. We’ve walked this entire city from right bank to left bank. Other than to navigate on the metro, Kate and I know this city without a map, inside and out….as if we were locals. We love our apartment and find it was the perfect way to perch in Paris.
The woman at the Three Doors Down coffee shop (our name for it) started to like us after initially finding us loud (go figure) and remembered that each morning we just wanted latte’s. Although, just like her mother, Kate decided this morning to throw them a loop and asked for a little caramel in her latte. We’ll miss their familiar faces. The regulars started to recognize us and the Johnny Depp look-alike began to give us acknowledgement. We wonder if they’ll miss us tomorrow; our friendly smiles and broken French.
We’ll miss our apartment and the smoker below us who frequented his window to chain smoke and drink Coca Cola while overlooking the courtyard. We never saw his face but he seemed to enjoy music and knew how to throw a party until all hours of the night. We were in disco heaven!!!
We understand why French women never shave their legs, as the showers and tubs are far too small for such an activity so why bother.
Our landlord who greeted us when we arrived told us of the prestige of living in this neighborhood. It never felt quite that prestigious until today when we had finally memorized our door codes. We had visions of preparing fabulous meals in our apartment but the call of the cafés around us were far louder than our Julie and Julia experience in the kitchen.
We’re going to continue to practice our French. We decided we each sound so much sweeter when we speak French, much more polite and proper than our back in the states blurting our words kind of women. We’ve clearly figured out how to blend into to the culture.
We’ve learned to embrace our natural beauty, we’re curly girls. We can’t believe all the naturally curly haired women we’ve seen in France. For once in our lives we feel our naturally curly hair is appreciated.
At 4:00 p.m. Saturday it’s back to reality when our plane arrives at MSP. So Kate, you don’t have an unlimited balance on your Visa and your sugar momma loves you but when you married your hubs you went off the payroll. As for me, no more admiring men in beautiful scarves, fine Italian shoes, cologne that sends me to the moon and beyond, and that Bonjour Madame voice. It’s back to “what up sister”, boot cut cut jeans, dorky shoes and the untucked dress shirts that I see on the majority of American men. Yes, it’s back to reality.
Au revoir from Paris ~