Our last full day in France. Between the bad weather, a federal holiday and several staff service days, Snowdrop's school has had more closures this past week than open days. In effect she'll have skipped no more than two and a half days of classes Still, it's time to go back.
But not today.
The weather is still unusually cold for Paris, but just so average for us Wisconsin types. Sunny and just below freezing all day long. We have plans for the day! But first, a race as to who gets down faster -- the elevator girl or the stair-using grandma. (Typically she wins. I mean, come on, we're on the American 6th floor! But today we tied.)
And breakfast.
And now it's time to catch the bus to the far western edge of the city. I almost never use the buses in Paris. My habit is to walk, and if I'm in a hurry I'll catch the metro. But the girl voted for the bus and frankly, it's the easiest way to get to the Marmottan Museum.
And it's a delightful ride. On a winter weekend, it's easy to nab a seat and simply enjoy the views along the way.
I'd taken Snowdrop to this museum when she was very young and I am sure she remembers none of it. But she knows Monet and the Marmottan is perhaps the best single compilation of Monet paintings in any one place. Were it not so far, I'd probably go there more often. But then, so would the rest of humanity. Its distance is what helps to keep things tame.
Why return to view paintings that you've seen countless times? What new things are you learning? Apart from allowing the little girl to get comfortable with great art, is there a reason to come back at all to canvases that you already memorized?
The answer is so simple! Of course there is! Great art makes you feel both reverent and content. (It can agitate as well, but I tend to return to places where the mood is of tranquility and incredible beauty. At the Marmottan, at the Orangerie, at d'Orsay -- it's all there for you to take in. Not unlike a walk in a forest, or a blooming garden -- it expands your senses and gives them a real workout! What's there not to love?)
I was going to be more leisurely on our trek back from the museum. Perhaps walk a little more. Maybe pause alomg the way. But "just below freezing" can still feel pretty nippy. And the girl has expressed a real interest in returning to Les Editeurs for lunch. So we catch the 63 bus again and head back to our neighborhood.
The ride is about a half hour and on this return journey an older woman is clearly listening to our conversation. About monsters and why they irrationally can freak a kid out, even when said kid knows there aren't any, and certainly not in your bedroom, or in her closet. The fellow passenger confirms: she too worried about monsters and indeed still takes another look in the back seat of her car to make sure none are lurking (not sure this was reassuring to the girl, but the fellow rider was so hungry to join in and chat with us that we let her continue).
Turns out the chatty woman is a professor of computer science in Brazil. She has been coming to Paris every year for several decades. A month each time. In their summer and thus Europe's winter. Is she lonely? She stays with us for the ride and I dare say, she may have enjoyed an invitation to join us for lunch. But I know Snowdrop: she is protective of her private time, of our private time. Sparrow would clamor to engage a stranger in friendly chatter. Snowdrop holds back.
Still, it is very lovely to have had this chance encounter. A person who comes into your life, only to exit it quickly again as the bus doors slam shut behind us. What will she do in Paris this whole month? Who will be her friend here? Or, like me, will she walk the streets on her own, enjoying the quiet of her own company?
At Les Editeurs Snowdrop orders exactly the same thing she ordered for dinner when we first arrived. Beans. Scallops and fries. French food can be intimidating. In these three dishes she finds comfort.
A sidestep to the pastry store (we'll eat our loot at the hotel,) and then to the neighborhood store where an older woman sells, well, small inconsequentials. Jewelry that's not too pricey, knick-knacks. She is extraordinarily chatty and always greets me warmly. Most of my adornments, such as they are, come from this small store. Today she wants to gift me a bracelet. It's simple, and she knows what will happen to it. You're going to give it to your granddaughter and I want you to have it! I guess I'll have to give you two bracelets...
And now we are at Le Baume, chomping on our sweets.
At 3, we go to the Luxembourg Gardens.
Snowdrop really wants to go to the playground in the park. Indeed, she has been wanting to do this since we got here. It always closes just before we get there. Not today. She zips, she climbs, she slides. I watch, holding my breath because when she misses a rung and comes to the ground, she insists on starting again until she gets it exactly right. Waiting for her to experience a success can chill a stationary non-climbing, bouncing or zipping grandma.
Age. It's your friend on a playground. Until it isn't anymore!
(Yes, you can go on the merry-go-round again!)
(yes, you can have some warm cotton candy...)
(Snowdrop: this has been a perfect day!)
Dinner? At the last minute I changed directions. Rather than going back to an old reliable place with very delicious French cooking, I booked a table at an Italian eatery by the Pantheon. A Bracetto. I'd never tried it, but I want to give Snowdrop this safe eating haven for her last dinner in France. Pizza, no effort required! And reputably great pizza.
A short walk from out hotel and we're there. On the upside, it really did have great pizza. The seating though was tricky. We'd booked, but we got perhaps the worst table in the place. Right next to some guys who were hanging out on one side, and on the other side -- where all the traffic passed through. Snowdrop was disheartened so I insisted on a change and eventually they complied, putting us at the "only available" space up by the window, on high chairs. Good but not great. Still, the pizza was superb and it was in the end the cheapest meal of the trip: two pizzas, one drink, $35 total. Boom! Good to go!
(walk back to the hotel)
And there you have it: a winter escape. From one super cold state to a somewhat cold country. Tomorrow we return home. I hear Wisconsin will be warming up this week. So will Paris. It's been an interesting winter thus far!
with so much love...
