The rain in Paris is way more charming than the rain in Jersey. It’s not as cold, it’s not as wet, and it does not rain cats and dogs. It doesn’t even rain les chats et les chien. It sort of puts a fine mist on things, so the Eiffel Tower looks, from afar, as if it’s been shrouded with the same vague sense of ennui that affects the Parisians when they’re not full of la joie de vivre
So. Where did we walk in Paris?
Everywhere.
On my birthday we started out at our apartment on Rue Camilles desmoulins off Place Leon Blum, walked to the Bastille and beyond to the Ile de la Cite, across the bridge to the Rive Gauche and then along the Seine for a beautiful water-level view of Notre Dame.
From there we walked through Place de Eglise Saint-Suplpice, where we saw the first of many art exhibits in Paris – this one en plein air. We met the sculptor Albert DuPont polishing his work, and instead of taking his picture next to the sculpture, he insisted on taking ours?! That’s his dog, though.
From there we went to the Luxembourg Gardens, climbed on board the Metro ( we’d already been on foot for four hours), went back and changed for dinner at Le Bistrot Paul Bert.
I had never eaten a meal that brought tears to my eyes, until I had their rabbit stuffed with fois gras, and tasted Frank’s mallard duck. It wasn’t my age that brought tears to my eyes. And it wasn’t perimenopause either — NO, IT WAS NOT. It was because the meal was that good. The wine was that great. And I was in Paris. Ooh la la. But really and truly, it was that canard colvert roti and the Paris Brest Moussant dessert.
After we ate, we did walk home. Of course. And when we woke up the next morning…we walked some more.
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Yep…depending on when you go to Paris (I went in October, also for the big 5-0, guess that’s the thing to do these days when you hit the half century mark) it’s going to be rain, lots of clouds. This was absolutely fine with me because I hate sweating.
I left my husband at home and went with my oldest and dearest girlfriend. We also walked our asses all over Paris. Took the Metro to Versailles and discovered why those peasanst revolted against Marie A!
You know, you remind me of that lady who started the blog on Julia Child’s French cook book…only you seem to really, really like walking.