When I leave Paris, I always know when I will next be here. And I know now when I will be returning. Of course, life may interfere, and with rare exception, I do not book things anymore that cannot be changed. Covid and age did that to me. (The rare exception is when a place insists on a nonrefundable prepay for at least one night. The Torridon in Scotland asked for that. I freaked! In the end I decided that it was worth it, but I worried the whole while beforehand.)
Age is such a hot topic in political discussions right now and I feel privileged to know something about it! I am in that decade where people start to think of you as "too old." And I feel too old. Too old to enjoy scaling every summit on a hiking path. Too old to relish a daylong drive along a narrow single-track road. Too old to shake that cough quickly. Too old to stay in a crowded museum for many hours.
On the flip side -- not too old to get on an overseas flight again and again. Not too old to carry that (now heavy) suitcase down a flight of steps, at a run, to catch the train for the airport. (Paris is getting better at access for wheels, but it's not totally there yet.) Not too old to log in 30 000 steps in the Highlands and another 30 000 in Paris. Not too old to add strange words to my French vocabulary. Not too old to feel joy, every day of my life.
Good morning Paris.
It's voting day here. If you have at all followed France's own political woes, you'll know that the centrist government is being squeezed from the right and squeezed from the left. A new coalition is expected to emerge and one can only hope the French people know what they're doing, because things could get pretty dicey here going forward.
I notice none of this as I come down to breakfast, at my usual table in the corner, perfect for a solo traveler...
(Such a pleasant staff here -- new to me in the dining room, but so very cheerful and kind.)
(If you use the stairs at the Baume Hotel, as I do, all the time, you get to know these six pretty well! Each landing has one of them, front view. I had to explain to Snowdrop what Claudine's outfit is all about!)
And I notice none of the election stuff when I go out for a walk. My flight is in the late afternoon. I can afford time for one last walk.
(not too old to walk, not too old to ride a bike!)
Where to? If you had one last morning in Paris, where would you go?
It's Sunday. It's a gorgeous day -- mostly sunny, pleasantly warm. Upper sixties F (20C) maybe? A no brainer, right?
I walk without purpose, but with an intention -- to take it in, this wonderful park, at its finest moment.
I pause by the pond -- yes, there are others who adhere to the "not too old" philosophy of life. He's not too old to play with a boat at the Jardin Luxembourg! And the other guy too! Big boat, little boat...
Big people, little people. Three generations of people:
And here's the flip side -- these scooter kids are not too young to listen to music in the gazebo.
I listen as well. It's a bunch of teens from Devon England performing -- one group sings, the other forms a band. I watch both, but I especially love hearing children's choirs. This one isn't some Cambridge Kings College perfection, it's just kids, enthused about getting to come to Paris for the weekend, to sing for a scant audience at the Jardin Luxembourg. (They had t-shirts printed for this!)
And the conductor shares their enthusiasm and I think -- they will return home tonight, but they will always remember these two days in Paris (I asked -- they had two performances here). And I will too. Kids enthusiasm for life! How I wish older people would hang on to it as well! Some do. Thank goodness.
[As an older traveler, I was amused to read that for a couple of days this week, some countries in Europe -- notably those I was in! -- had a cellular disruption, so that if you rely on Google maps or Uber to move around, or if you text your way through the day -- you were screwed. I of course noticed this, but assumed it was a phone malfunction, so I just turned the thing off when I was out and about -- without really being bothered by it. And of course, I, being older, dont fully rely on technology anyway. When I needed Google maps to navigate in Scotland, I also wrote out the road numbers I would have to turn on, just in case. Old people habits sometimes pay off!]
My watch tells me it's time to head back now. Just one more picture. I see a very British-like line has formed for pictures by the Olympic circles. Just a handful of people, but a more disciplined assortment. This makes it easy to wait and then ask someone to snap you a photo.
What the heck -- not too old to do this too!
I grab my bag and my backpack and my spill over satchel (buying stuffies for kids will create that need for an added satchel), and to head uphill to the commuter train that will take me to the airport.
Flights on time, Minneapolis, then Madison, where Ed waits patiently at door number 4. Hi my love! Dont get too excited, the mosquitoes at home are awful, but I did get rid of the fleas that Unfriendly had picked up! I smile. Welcome home!
With so much love...
