two days in Paris

The rains recede, I see a little blue, the streets of Paris glisten. [Snowdrop asks: why do they literally wash the streets here? Why indeed. I've never known Paris not to spray down and sweep up its streets. Pride of place? Habit?]

We eat breakfast -- lots of croissants, breads. Our fill of it. It's our last breakfast in the city. Tomorrow before dawn we leave.

The girl feels comfortable here. She knows the place and they know her. 

But it's all fleeting of course. Tomorrow she will return to her routines. To her brothers. To her friends. One last chance to spend a day listening to her stories. To walk hand in hand.

 

 

 

But where to? She wants to get close to the Eiffel Tower. This is a recurring theme of her visits here. I never offer her a trip up to the top, even though I know she'd like it. I suppose she knows my limits. (I've gone up twice in my life and believe me, that was enough.)

We walk along my best paths. Past squares, past markets...

All the way to the Tower. It's an hour if you go without pauses, pictures and purchases. We had pauses, pictures and purchases.

Finally. We are there. 

 

 

 

I'm surprised to still see the fencing -- weren't they fixing up the parks by the Tower? Is this a very long-term project? Regardless. It's always special to be close to this structure. Surely every angle has been photographed by millions by now. And yet, we keep on taking pictures...

 

 

 

And now it's time to turn back. Snowdrop inspects every corner to make sure that no one is selling cotton candy (because in the busier seasons, you can count on it in the parks, and especially by the Tower). We talk about what to do next. Snowdrop had wanted a picnic by the Tower, but of course it's too cold for that (and the public spaces are mostly blocked off by fencing). She has the idea of picking up a baguette and fruits and treats at the Bon Marche food courts and maybe taking these back to the hotel room for a picnic there. But, too, she wants the merry-go-round at the Tuilerie Gardens. That's a lot of walking.

Can we take a taxi? 

No, Snowdrop. It's not raining. Let's not miss out on all that we see when we walk. 

I break things down: let's walk to the Tuileries. That's only maybe 20 minutes (a gross understatement -- it's maybe double that). Let's see how we feel after that.

We persevere. And are so glad to finally get to the very empty gardens! 

 

 

 

And triply happy to see the merry-go-round in motion. Every day, from 10 to 7! Reliable, with the same ticket seller there, rain or shine. (And I swear, we felt a few drops on our walk!)

Snowdrop looks awfully lonely on her horse, then airplane, then spinning cup. No other child in sight. 

Paris really is empty of tourists in January. Understandable, but on the other hand, it isn't that cold here. In the mid 40s F (maybe 7C). Positively spring weather by my Wisconsin sensibilities. 

Snowdrop gets lucky here: the merry-go-round guy also makes and sells cotton candy. Her dream realized!

From there she pushes for a taxi to the food courts, but I encourage her (more like bribe her) to continue. It's only 20 minutes more! (Another under-estimate.)

I have to say, when we finally enter the warm store (after several hours in the windy and cloudy and damp city), it feels like heaven! 

 

 

The deal is to get some strawberries -- she has been coveting them all over the city and I kept deflecting (we have to wash them! later! maybe tomorrow!) -- and a baguette and some of her favorite macarons. When she spots some currants, she adds those. 

 

 

I add a carrot salad for myself. We are set!

Can we take a taxi back to the hotel?

It's only 19 (um, more or less) minutes!

We walk.

Two more pauses -- at the spoon shop, and at the new little coffee vendor by the hotel. And finally, nearly 20 000 steps later (we both have counters and for once, it feels good to look down at the day's walking successes), we are in the hotel room. She swears she wont ever leave again. [I have to finish with my transportation card purchases, so I hop out for a few minutes on my own to the train/metro station. And I pick up some tea on the way! A walk in Paris, even a short walk in Paris, always is like this.]

Of course, she, too has to leave. In the evening, I booked dinner at Vita Ristorante. A new one for me. My pescatarian traveler is so much more flexible in her eating habits, but the typical French bistro will have five dishes -- three will be meats, one fish, and one vegetarian. Though she'll eat whatever fish is presented, not all will be her favorites. I  did not want to disappoint her on her last day of her trip, nor did I want to walk far for dinner. The Italian Vita seemed a great idea, made even better by the fact that it is in the direction of the Latin Quarter. At the last minute I looked up entrance tickets to Notre Dame and sure enough, there was a spot available for tonight. Snowdrop seemed excited by the idea of visiting the cathedral late at night. It's a plan!.

Vita is a good place, though I liked our opening fried mix more than I liked my pasta with shrimp. Importantly though, Snowdrop's main dish -- pizza -- was delightful.

The walk to Notre Dame at night:

I was amused that they required tickets and that it was so difficult to claim some, because no one checked ours and there was no line to get inside. Moreover, though Snowdrop was somewhat awed by the grand interior, much of Notre Dame's beauty is in the detail on the outside, and in the stained glass windows -- all this was lost on us.  I'm glad we saw it, but honestly, if you're going to make a point of exploring the cathedral, do it in daylight! Of course, the adventure of being out on the island late at night, just before a return home, was wonderful. Snowdrop was all smiles.

A late at night walk back... 

 

 

 

... to our sweet room at the Baume. Early tomorrow we will be on our way to Detroit, then Madison. My next post will be from the farmhouse.

with so much love...