It's all about the weather today. I track Milton because my friend lives in the storm's path in Florida, while Paris faces its own monsoon like rain storm today. All day, 100% chance rain. Of course, for me Paris rain is a non-event. There may be flooding here, but I wont see it. In the meantime my own home back in south-central Wisconsin is once again bone dry, having had only one rainy day in the last month. Or two.
Paris in the rain. If you dont have a check list of things to do and see here (and I am lucky, because whatever list I had has long been crossed off and torn up on my other days), you can find great pleasure in just watching the city wake up to a wet day. It's very beautiful.
I do see that the worst of the rain will hit us in the afternoon and so I decide to take a walk to the Jardins just as they open (at 7:45 in October). They're lovely then! Empty of tourists, of leisure seekers, and especially today, in the rain, they have only the occasional jogger and the commuter who cuts through to get to work. It's a great time to be meandering through this part of the city!
(Tower in rain clouds...)
(empty park)
(autumn chestnuts)
Breakfast, at the hotel.The usual. I'm back to croissants. Yay.
And now what? As you know, I've been tempted to have a do nothing day, a "linger in my hotel room" set of hours. But for whatever reasons, which I do not fully understand, Paris has been pulling at me on this trip. I cannot take anything about it for granted. For all the days I've spent here, I feel I haven't yet done enough. Or perhaps I've come to understand that there will come a time when traveling here wont be so easy, or even possible. So I go out, even on this wet day. In spurts.
And I have to say, the rain may be beautiful on the initial saunter, but as you get wet, it can lose its charm. (This is when I think that maybe I should have splurged when I bought my Allbirds walking shoes. The ones I have are not waterproof. Not a bit.)
By noon I'm ready to pause. What could more appealing than a bowl of four-veggie soup with seeds sprinkled on top? Nothing. Nothing at all. (Sounds familiar? I stopped for it at No.13 on my walk from the train stop to my hotel on that tired first day in Paris.)
Rest, walk, walk, rest. By late afternoon I am ready for first of all, a solid cup of coffee (trying out the newly opened "Coffee Tree" around the corner...)
(delicious!)
... and, too, something unusual for me on these solo trips -- a social moment. It just so happens that friends from way back (and I mean waaaaay back, as I haven't seen them in lots of years -- they used to live in Madison but now are back in New York) are in Paris and somehow we connected and now here we are, meeting up for coffee/wine at Les Editeurs.
No, not outside! People, it's really raining here!
I cannot think of a better way to spend a few late afternoon hours in soggy, drenched Paris.
Dinner? You will be surprised to know that I choose pizza. Here, at this place: Agata.
Pizza hunting in Paris is not new to me. Typically I do it with a child in tow, but I have to say, I haven't struck gold yet and that's unusual, because Paris actually does have (I hear!) great pizza places. I try one that some have liked and it is good! You need a low key meal after days of great foods. I have my low key meal tonight.
And I should add: it's no longer raining in Paris. It is pouring! Impossible to walk anywhere without getting your shoes, socks, pants -- everything wet. And still -- I'm passing through Paris. A wet Paris, but I am just a visitor. I dont have to check my basement for flooding.
At Agata's I have my usual confusion: the menu is in Italian. What language is appropriate for an Italian restaurant in Paris? Not to say I am great at it, but the one thing you learn how to do is speak Italian over food choices. This is when it all falls apart for me as I put out sentences in languages that are not my own. I discuss pizzas with a mix of Italian words, but when asked how is it back in Wisconsin, I'm back to French. Is this all a signal that it's time for me to return home?
(Hidden under the Parma ham are the tomatoes, the cheeses, the mushrooms, the artichokes... fantastically Neapolitan.)
And now for the wet walk back. Through pouring rain.
In a total deluge...
To my dry slice of heaven -- the Baume Hotel.
Yes, I am so happy -- to be here, and too, to be going home to all my beloveds tomorrow.
with love...
