a child's Paris

On this last day in Paris, I want to let Snowdrop take the lead. Well, as much as that's possible. Being away from home in a place that isn't really familiar (it's her fourth trip to Paris, but the first three happened before the pandemic and she seems to have only vague memories of them) doesn't leave her a lot of wiggle room to plan. Plus, we do need to follow protocols. Nonetheless, she gets to choose stuff she calls fun. I go along.

First though, the essentials. Breakfast. Hurry up, before they stop serving it! (That's my running message every morning.)

So, what would you like to include in this day?

She wants to recreate something she appears to remember from our last trip here: I'd taken her and Sparrow on a picnic by the Eiffel Tower. She wants to do that again. But to accomplish it, we need foods. I go over the possibilities. She chooses bread and strawberries. She loves the French versions of both! But Snowdrop, where's the protein?

She hesitates. Do they have cheddar cheese? Nope. Okay, maybe ice cream? It's her day. We'll look for ice cream.

We go out shopping, but before we do the pleasant, we have to do the unpleasant: get Covid tests at the pharmacy to see if we can return home. They really poke your nose here, but it needs to be done and in any case I need to see if I managed to escape the infection. Long line, a coughing positive person being there along with all others  -- I mean, a real fun detour!

Happily, we are both negative (though they tell us to come back later for the documents as the computers are down. Phew!).

From here we side step to a bakery (that's easy -- we are surrounded by great bakeries) for the baguette. The man reaches over and hands me a cookie. For the little one.

And from there, we check the local produce stands for good berries.

By now, after all this rushing about, Snowdrop would have probably appreciated some down time, but I said I had something else in mind -- something that I have never done before but was sure she would love -- the Jardin d'Acclimatation.

It's an amusement park set in a beautiful green corner of Paris and it targets, well, her age group! It's really for the elementary school set (those over 120 cm-- she just makes the cut there), though there are plenty of  rides for accompanied tots as well, so no one feels left out.

Why hadn't I ever taken my daughters there? The fact is, I hate rides. I hate things that go up and down and round and round. They are up there with sailing on rough seas: no matter how much I try to tolerate either, it always feels grossly awful and it takes me a while to recover, even once the world stops swaying and spinning in my head.

Still, this girl loves rides. I mean, she really loves them. I'm counting on the fact that she is old enough to send off on her own to most things that spin and twirl and bump and go every which way.

We take a taxi to the park. I thought Monday would be a good day because all French children are in school and indeed, the park is eerily on the empty side of the spectrum. The cold weather probably adds to that. It feels very much like an almost empty movie theater: on the one hand, great! There are no lines and you can see everything. On the other hand, missing is the peel of laughter and the shriek of the wild child trying out a wild ride.

Still, on balance, it's nice to have the place more or less to ourselves.

Nice, until we come to the biggest of the 4 roller coasters in the park. I mean, this is no giant by American standards, but still, it's pretty twisty and has some steep drops. She wants to go, but not alone.

What a grandma wont do for her granddaughter!

I'm still spinning in my head from the twisty horror of it all. (She loved it.)

I did do two other (tame) rides with her. The rest -- she was in fact fine on her own. Thank God.

(Lilacs are blooming here already! It was very warm... before we arrived!)

We were good for about two hours and then I was ready to coax her away toward our Eiffel Tower picnic.

We recreate however it is that she remembers it to be. Just goes to show -- great picnics have little to do with the food...(baguette and strawberries???)

I'd promised ice cream, but now it's getting mighty cool again. Still, I said the first cafe that has it on the menu will get us to step inside. (Me, I'm lusting after warm coffee...) Well, there is a cafe, and ice cream's on the menu, but once we are seated, the waiter tells us that they're just not set up for it yet. Would you like some other dessert?

Oh yes. (Delicious crepes, with coffee for the grandma!)

One more stop today, just one more -- at the Grand Epiceries Food Halls. But we purchase very little. It's a place with exquisite foods at exquisite prices. Like, $5 for a small chocolate sucker. A few will do. And we're done.

I choose a walk back to the hotel that will take us through the Jardins Luxembourg. We've spent so little time in the gardens! I want its calming grace for just these few last minutes and honestly after crisscrossing the city, I think Snowdrop will benefit from it as well.

And in the evening, we are about to go out to our last dinner. Reservation for 7 pm, it is now 6:50. The restaurant, Marco Polo, can be a bit intimidating (left bank, Italian, but on the posh side of things), but I've seen them handle little kids on my last visit there in the fall. Let's go! -- I tell Snowdrop.

Oh! She looks at me with eyes that are quickly filling with tears. We forgot the ice cream you promised! She's not entirely correct. I remembered and nudged her to consider it earlier, but she'd been absorbed in her story telling so it passed her by.

It's another "what would you do" moment and I know many of you would not play it the way I did. There's a lot to be said for shrugging it off with a Life is Tough attitude. Because, well, life is tough. Too, we're going to one of the best of our Paris restaurants and you need to bring a healthy appetite with you for dinner because otherwise -- well, what's the point. 

Nonetheless, I made a different call.

There is a gelato store just across the street from Marco Polo Restaurant. It closes soon, but there's time.

(It helps to know that the French give very, very small scoops, unlike the Italians, and certainly unlike us back home.)

At Marco Polo, she orders her fave and she scribbles and I look onto this child who's so full of emotion and earnestness and love. We write secret messages to each other and she writes I love to travel with you and I write I do with you. In code of course.

And they give her lollipops and she is surprised and pleased. She tells me -- in Italy they kept calling me principessa, in France they keep giving me extra treats...  So, the world does love children. How cool is that...

Tomorrow, we leave at dawn. Paris will be all that we'll see out the taxi window. And in the evening, if all goes well, Snowdrop will be back with her family and I will be at the farmhouse, where surely I'll have a few hours, perhaps days to reflect.

Until then, good night, with so much love!