Because I value travel so much and love Paris totally, when I come here alone, I take in every irrelevant detail of every walk, every corner, doorway, every window display, especially if it's unusual in some way. The quiet streets are the best -- you see so much more without the distraction of crowds, or vehicles. If you'd asked me about intentional living, I'll respond that I am at my intentional best when I am in Paris. I think about nothing except what is right before me at the moment.
My flights were so easy, so on time. The lines for passport control so short! The train to the city -- right there, and it was the express one (which shortens the trip to a nice 30 minutes). I tell myself -- dont rush it, dont walk briskly to get there. Walk slowly. Even at the airport, look around you. At the people. Imagine their stories.
Alone here, I am not distracted by what's in my head.
I get off at the Luxembourg stop. As it happens, I have five older tickets for this airport train. The price of this ride is now higher and so these old tickets are deemed invalid. 50 Euro down the drain. I discuss my options with the ticket agent who has been at the Luxembourg station for as long as I can remember. And always he is brusk, and always he will only speak French, using many words that are beyond me. He waves me off to some outpost at one of the major train stations. I'll probably get nowhere with this refund request, but it is interesting to try.
And then I alight from the train station, taking the escalator that spits me out right before the gate to the Luxembourg Gardens.
I love this moment! One minute I'm on a plane crossing the Atlantic, next, I'm dozing off on a train that goes underground just before entering the city and then, voila, I emerge and I am at the heart of it all. It never ceases to thrill me.
I walk slowly, paying attention to everything. My hotel is just a seven minute walk, and it's downhill from the Gardens, so -- easy peasy. And yet, I dont pick up the pace. I pass a cafe-restaurant that I've tried before. It's called "13 Au Jardin" and it faces the Gardens. It's rather cool and gray in Paris right now (barely 60f/15c), so no one is sitting outside, but at this hour (2:30), the normally packed interior is pretty empty. I'm thinking -- this is a perfect time to sit down, get a steamy cup of coffee and maybe a light snack. They specialize in what I would call brunch foods: organic salads, cakes, savory tarts. I could get into that right now. Airplane breakfasts are never great. This will keep me happy until dinner time.
And it is perfect: a pureed veggie soup with a distinct ginger and carrot presence, a nicely seasoned salad and yes, my coffee. I sit there with my carry-on, my pack and, I look around me, and listen in on a conversation, and I eat my delicious seed sprinkled soup, before digging out my phone and finally succumbing to a read of the news.
From there it's a three minute walk to my hotel.
What can I say -- I love the Baume. I've been staying here since before it decided to call itself the Baume (more than a dozen years ago). Not once, not a single time have I had a bad visit. When I'm feeling flush, I get their larger rooms, but today I decided to start off with a smaller one ("start off" because I am only here for two nights, but I will be returning at the end of my France trip to finish off in Paris for another two nights), in the back, just to see what it's like (I will have then stayed in just about all their rooms). And it is quite lovely! And yes, they always remember that I love flowers. And the view, though toward the courtyard, is still quite nice.
I pause for a little while. And I think about the conversations I've had thus far: with the ticket guy, with the wait person, and with two of the front desk Baume staff members. I have recently come to accept the fact that I will never be completely fluent in French. Sometimes I'll have a good run and think myself to be almost there, other times I realize that my vocabulary, particularly of idiomatic expressions, is just not large enough and I'm stuck with the same grammar, and verb conjugations that I learned when I was decades younger. I want to push forward when I am not here, but all I seem to have time for is a quick sporadic review just before I get on the plane. They say "go learn a language when you retire." It kills me that a language I know and love remains elusive at times, and only more so as I get older. Despite my frequent trips here, I think I am basically standing still with my French. Same words, same phrases, shuffled around to make myself understood. Here's an I should have: I should have worked harder at immersion years ago!
And then I set out for a short walk. It is actually a ridiculous walk, but hey, I only have a couple of hours and I am not feeling ambitious right now. I go to the river to check out progress at the Notre Dame (it's reopening in a few weeks)...
(does it really look like the bells will peel a welcome on December 6th?)
... then I cross over to the Right Bank...
... to take a look at some kid clothes in a department store there (Le BHV). I still like coming home with something for the kids and it's not easy to find something for all five. (It's an all or nothing deal: if I find something for even four out of five, it wont do. Gotta hit the entire cinq!) I am lucky. I find something for all five. That's my brief foray into this part of Paris.
I'm so much happier on the Left Bank. The hip tourists have now flocked to the Marais (on the Right) and personally I am glad. You pay a price if you stay in a trendy part of town.
(back to the Left, with my first sighting of the Tower)
From there, I walk over to my dinner place for tonight -- Seulement Sea, which obviously specializes in seafood, portending the theme of my trip for this October. (But really I chose it because it is simple and good, close to my hotel, and it opens at 6:30. I figured I'd be tired and would appreciate an earlier than usual dinner.)
Delicious, fresh and honest food.
And here's something I appreciate: you can order a dessert. Or you can order a small "dessert bite" of any offering on their sweets menu. I pick a bite of the creme brulee and a bite of the roasted peaches. A wonderful way to sample even if you've had your fill of dinner.
I walk home. Yeah, home. In this other world of mine, I feel at home. Of sorts, to be sure, but home. In the intimate lobby, I run into the hotel manager. She's the one that keeps this hotel in such good shape and she is the one that gives the place soul and heart. Never misses a beat. We talk. My French improves. Was it the glass of wine? More likely I'm melting into the sweet comfort of being here.
But I am suddenly very sleepy. Until tomorrow then.
...with love
