When did it happen? This immersion in Paris, this feeling that I could call it "mine?" Travel favorites come and go. There was this place, then there was a switch to some other place. But Paris stayed. I've always woken up to its street sounds and felt happy. And so I keep coming back.
But bringing Snowdrop to Paris is a challenge exactly because it is also not her first, second or even third trip here. Does she remember any of those earlier travels? Do I repeat and reinforce what she has seen? Do I introduce her to new stuff? In terms of feelings, she is not anywhere near where I am with this city. She likes it alright, but she doesn't swoon in the way I swoon every time I set foot in the Luxembourg Gardens. So, what's my agenda for her here?
In the end, the weather solves the problem for me. The showers are to start by noon and they are expected to stay with us until after we leave. That means that I should seize the morning for our park stroll and return to a museum in the afternoon.
But first, there is breakfast.
I am pleasantly surprised about many aspects of Snowdrop's growing maturity. I mean, kids do grow up, right? Getting her to abandon her beloved striped shirt and old leggings would have been a challenge even a couple of months ago. Today, she doesn't bat an eye.
We set out toward the park. The end of March is a beautiful time to be in Paris: it may well be the calmest period in terms of tourism. Note how empty the park is! At the same time, this is not Wisconsin: bulbs are blooming, trees are in full swing, winter is long gone!
[Are you wondering about the garbage situation in Paris? Well, the city is definitely messy. The heaps of trash have been (mostly) collected, but the strike continues in some fashion and the stray bits of trash, the unwashed roads and sidewalks, the feeling of dustiness are all quite noticeable if you're used to a cleaner city. And yes, in normal times, Paris is a cleaner city. Still, I am relieved that you can walk through it and still think it to be beautiful. And nowhere is that feeling more genuinely with you than in the parks.]
I offer her the (paid) playground and at once she remembers its challenges. Well, challenges for a younger girl. Not so difficult for an 8 year old. But, Snowdrop loves playgrounds and she tries every single piece of equipment here.
And now I have the most glorious piece of luck: the Luxembourg Museum has a fantastic exhibition (from March 15 until July 16) and I had not known about it until I saw the posters on the Garden fences. It's dedicated to the brother of Claude Monet -- Leon Monet. Leon was an industrialist, a paint specialist, a collector and total supporter of his brother and his crew of Impressionists. The exhibit of paintings of Monet, Pissarro, Renoir, etc is just fabulous! And there is virtually no line to get in.
Snowdrop is pleased to see it, but she isn't as wowed by it as I am. Still, she is patient with me and she does, as always, pick out her favorite canvases, though pausing to consider if something is a sunrise or a sunset is less of a thrill. "I say sunrise!" -- she proclaims and moves on.
Now this is special! Take a picture! -- she urges me. I look curiously at the small canvas. It's of the sea. Maybe she is still one foot in Greece...
(There is mural toward the end made with colors that Monet favored in his darker period. Someone offers to take our photo by it. Sure!)
From here, we make a loop -- past the St. Sulpice Square... (fountain!)
... past the pastry store (just to look; this on is my favorite.. but not hers! she's all about chocolate)...
And then onto a favorite children's clothing store. I used to spend a lot of time chasing down fun dresses and outfits for the kids, when there were fewer kids! Now that there are five of them, even picking up two or three items for each means that I am going to need an extra bag to take it all home (and preemptively, I did pack into my carryon an extra bag. Who cares if it doesn't get home with us upon the return).
I tell Snowdrop that we are shopping for her cousins and her brothers. Since she runs around in shorts and t-shirts all summer long, I'm not going to spend money on dresses for her. But she falls in love. With that skirt. With this dress. With a stuffed hedgehog! I'm beginning to think that bringing her to a children's clothing store was not such a good idea. Or maybe it was? Maybe we can get her out of the same too small striped shirt after all?
And now I think we can take a pause at the hotel. Snowdrop loves these breaks just as much as I do. Sit down, read a little, play a little, type a little here.
...Until it's time to head out for lunch. She's plenty hungry, but I'm not sure she's going to be happy hiking across town to eat lunch where I want to eat lunch! And so I ask her if she is willing to stop by the Food Halls of Le Bon Marche on the way, to pick up chocolate covered Teddys that she and Sparrow love for back home.
She is. And so I have my cake and I get to eat it too! I have sweet-talked her into going to the Food Halls which I love (and where we also pick up some fabulous strawberries which I then carry with me for the rest of the afternoon! Uff! YOU try to keep French strawberries from turning to mush on a long hike through the city, through a crowded museumm, through a rain storm, and to a tight lunch eatery!).
(she can manage check out in Madison, and she can manage check out at Le Bon Marche)
Too, from the Food Halls, it's just a hop skip to my place of such great sentiment that I cannot imagine not eating here on my Parisian trips: it's Cafe Varenne.
I don't know what's better here -- the unfussy but great food, or the wait staff which is absolutely superb. (I get a great boost of confidence, too, as the waiter comments on my French, absolutely motivating me to try even harder to get totally fluent. Nothing in this world beats positive reinforcement!)
Snowdrop makes me smile as she not only remembers Cafe Varenne, but tells me what both she and I ate here last year. For me it had been white asparagus which the waiter tells me is still not abundant enough to put on the menu. Too early. That's okay. She gets her pasta, I get lentils and their home cured salmon.
Energized, we head over to the Musee d'Orsay. I told her that if the line is too long, we would not go. And the line is long, even for this late afternoon hour, but it turns out that if you have time sensitive tickets, you do not wait in it, but go to another entrance. No wait at all! We are in!
It's not as crazy crowded as usual, but it is overwhelming. We check out the Van Gogh rooms and honestly, that probably would have been enough for one visit.
But we persevere! It's just that we dont linger anymore. It's a straight shoot through the rooms. I'm more interested in getting her to remember forms, colors, names, than anything else. She does tell me -- you like Impressionists. I like the more abstract painting. I'm not sure where this comes from! I don't press her. I like that she has an idea about what appeals to her.
I offer her a return to the hotel now. Or, I suggest the Tuilleries Gardens. With the merry-go-round. Even though it's raining cats and dogs!
She chooses the Gardens. She is a girl who claims to love rain.
The ticket seller at this merry-go-round has been doing this for 25 years! I remember him well from previous visits. And as always, on this very uncrowded day, he throws in a bunch of free rides. I get dizzy just watching her go round and round, but she is happy as a clam switching animals, saucers, airplanes...
And the rain comes down in gusts and swells...
And then it stops, for a while, and she wants that sticky messy sugary cotton candy and I say sure!
On the walk back, I realize that I am more tired than she is. Maybe it's the souvenirs in my bag and the strawberries. Maybe it's that I am not 8 years old!
(this may be the only photos of the Eiffel Tour from this trip...)
(and another rare shot -- of hair tucked behind her ears, done so out of necessity, because of the cotton candy stickiness!)
When we get to the hotel, she, as always, insists on walking up the four flights. I tell her -- meet you upstairs!
In the evening I booked us a table at a well liked Italian place (L'Oliveto). Not quite as staid as the one we'd been going to in past years. This is perhaps her hardest evening for her. Being on good behavior, sticking to good manners for three meals a day, all this stuff is something she can handle, but add to it the absence of rowdy brothers and the safe harbor of parents and you're going to feel the strangeness of the moment eventually. For Snowdrop it comes tonight.
I go easy on the food and restaurant demands and afterwards, we walk slowly through the boisterous neighborhood and chat about stuff. And I lead us to a couple of pastry stores -- mostly empty by the end of the day, but still, with the occasional tart or cake, and we pick up some stuff she might enjoy at the hotel (she has grown to love lemon tarts on this trip!), and we come back and she eats and snuggles in her bed and all is right with the world again.
Tomorrow is our last day in Paris. In Europe, actually. I offered her a "take it easy" route, but she is choosing to face it head on. I tell her she must get some rest tonight.
Hey, maybe I should get rest tonight as well! One can but hope!
With love...
