Who am I to talk and what am I to say of
that hasn’t already been said (or sung), many times over and many times better?
Honestly, I’m not feigning humility here.
I don’t know Paris well at all.
I only know that a corner of my heart belongs to her.
After leaving Berlin, we were to fly to Paris. We’d been to France once before – sort of a flukey thing – only 3 or 4 days – and all of it in Paris. Though our trip this time would be focused in Provence and Burgundy, how could we possibly fly over the city we first saw (and fell in love with) one lovely April? She had just a bit more color then, and a bit more sparkle (but in all fairness, so did I.)
I’ll keep my words to a minimum here. (you doubt!) For this post, there will be mostly photos … with a few words, like herbs, tossed in for flavor…
Our key to the city…
We arrived to our tiny (teeny!) room in the same hotel we stayed our first visit.We had to shoe-horn ourselves in, but it was so well-situated we couldn’t pass it up. Directly across the street, the lovely little church Sainte Germaine de Auxerrois. Kitty-corner from us, the Louvre, and only a few blocks away, the river Seine.
I lost my pants in Berlin.
Though that may sound as though there’s an exciting story to follow (and don’t I wish there were), there isn’t.
I failed to re-pack them and when I called the hotel, they were gone. I’d packed light for this trip. (Lighter than I’ve ever packed before.) Priorities for me: everything for 3 weeks in one medium bag, with a little empty room to bring a few things back for family, and (naturally) my camera gear. The pants I brought were pretty new and pretty wonderful. My evening dress-up pants. I was pretty attached and pretty despondent when someone else decided she liked them too.
My Guinea Pig is a man you can always count on in a crisis. While my eyes were swelling with tears, he was already online, locating what would become my favorite place to shop for clothes, ever. If you ever get a chance, do meet agnes b.
We’re walkers, my husband and I. When we travel our feet take us just about everywhere we go. And Paris is a wonderful city to see on foot!
walking past a culinary school,
imagining for a moment, me in that window tenderly sprinkling cinnamon…
past fountains, statues, monuments – everywhere