home

I pulled into the farmette driveway just after midnight. There had been some rain and the air felt very autumnal -- cold and damp. Inside, Ed had dozed off, as had Dance. You could say I woke the household up! (Who was more happy to see me -- Ed or Dance? I'd say it's a tossup, though eventually Ed's effusiveness tapered off and Dance just could not get enough of me.)

It's impossible for me to walk through the house and not straighten things up as I go along and of course that just sucks you into a tidying mode. That and catching up with Ed stories (the pawpaw trees, the assembled Amazon couch which we decided to send back...) took another couple of hours and so I didn't get to sleep until, well, this morning! For a while.

Up at 7, as always, rain or shine, Annecy, Paris, or farmhouse. I look out, expecting rain, but there seems to be a pause. A very, very limited pause that will last an hour or so. If I want to get in my movement, it will have to be now. Not after breakfast, not after I've rested some, now, immediately after feeding the animals on my walk thought this drizzled landscape.

(Remember the Auberge Gaura? White and delicate? Here's mine -- pink and bold...)

Ed, having just finished a long Wednesday ride, has no interest in riding along. Who could blame him! I put on my winter jacket and deeply regretted not stuffing gloves in my pocket. It's nippy out there!

I cannot say it was a thrilling ride. Everything in life cannot be thrilling or exceptionally sublime. But it was a good, invigorating ride! A pretty one...

And as always, it had an element of surprise. Today I come across a field of Sandhills and Canadian Geese. These birds are so common here, that they didn't so much surprise me as they astonished me in their sheer numbers. 

As I pause to watch these flocks of birds co-mingling in the harvested cornfield, I see a handful of cranes take off. And then suddenly they all take off, joining the small group, filling the sky with wings and song.

At home, I fix a breakfast, coax Ed into a photo...

And turn to the laundry. One of the jars of honey that I'd purchased at the French honey store -- the one that is made from thyme flowers, thus promising you medicinal benefits you can't even imagine! -- had leaked honey inside my suitcase. Attending to sticky clothes suddenly tops my todo list.

And then we move on to the next project -- packing up the parts of the couch that was delivered in my absence. Ed had assembled it, I sat on it once and agreed with him -- it was like sitting on a slab of stone. He had had the presence of mind to photograph the way it had fit into a huge cardboard container. Back it went, piece by piece, with my occasional assistance. 

We are on Square One in our couch acquisition project. Rumor has it that there is another one on Amazon that Ed likes. At just over $300, it's even cheaper than the one we're sending back! Let's see if we do better with it! 

In the afternoon, I'm picking up the kids again. In the rain. 

How quickly they fall back on their routines here! How easy it is to make them happy...

I expect to be wiped out by evening and that surely is the case. This is the weather for a soup supper and this will be my last job for the day -- cook up enough soup to last forever! And then finally I put my feet up, Ed turns on a missed episode of Just a Few Acres Farm. It's so good to be back...

Goodnight!

going home

A noon flight out of Paris means that I need to be up and out before 9.  That's easy. Wherever I am on this planet, I always am up and out by that hour. In fact, I'm packed and out of my room this morning by 7:30. Deliberately, so that I can take a stroll before breakfast. To look at Paris one last time.

Yes, the sun rises later here. At 8:04 today. I walk under the thin light of the crescent moon. A croissant moon. 

I could have walked down to the River Seine, but somehow in this warm weather I have too often defaulted toward the Luxembourg Gardens. I find myself walking now in much the same way I will walk toward the train, an hour from now, suitcase in tow. But I'll put away my camera then. It's now that I am unencumbered and can pause to consider, to admire. Streets, cleaned by an early morning spray of city water. 

There's that moon again, now shining ever so slightly, competing with the sun which will be up in the next half hour. The Pantheon, happy to take on the rays of either, of both.

The park is still closed. Official opening at this time of the year: 7:45.

I'm at the gates at 7:40. The guard clicks the padlock. Parisians, regulars I'm guessing (bonjour to the guard, bonjour, always bonjour), are coming in now, cutting across to vast space, to work, to school. But their numbers are small. The park still belongs to the statues.

Next time I see you, it will be 2024.

Out of the park now, back on the streets. That moon! Forcing me to look up, to see the chimneys, the pigeons up there, against a now purple sky.

Oh, it's turning pink! Here's my hotel, against a rose sky. Would I come to Paris this often if I didn't love my stay in this place? I always think - if it's raining, if I'm feeling tired, I can always just stay in my room overlooking this quiet street and read, or write. (Except that I am never feeling that tired! Not yet anyway. Maybe in a year or two...)

I don't go in just yet. I have enough time to see if Paris is waking up yet on the busier intersections of streets, cafes, bus routes.

No, not yet. Tables still empty. No cafe cremes, no croissants, no people.

If I wanted to watch the morning unfold over a period of time, I'd choose my table carefully. Face the streets, pick a block where there is likely to be some activity, but not too much. This might be a good spot!

Idle thoughts. Time to return to the Hotel Baume and grab a breakfast there. Alone today. I didn't want to drag Pawel and Karolina down too early. These people have insane mornings back home. In Paris, they should not rush.

But they do come down in time to say goodbye. I'm so grateful to them that they spent their most precious resource -- time -- to make this trip. That they had the enthusiasm for it. That they gave me all those days of happy smiles and beautiful conversations.

They sit down to their morning meal (their flight to Warsaw is much later), I head out the door. To the RER train station. I'm now totally back to trains, even though I'm a bit overloaded today. But hey! Since my pre-Covid trips, they've built an elevator down to the train station entrance! No more lifting my suitcase down a long flight of steps.

At the airport, there is added security. My terminal has police with rifles drawn. Is it that the war, the far away war, has everyone on edge?

I see a sign announcing that in 2027, there will be a fast train from the airport to the center of town. Just 20 minutes. (Right now, it takes anywhere from 30 to 40 minutes.) Why are these speedy trains popping up everywhere except where I live? 

At the airport, after security (no passport control -- I'm flying still within Europe) I can't resist a final taste of that wonderful morning mouthful.

And then I board the flight to Amsterdam. Yes, that's a bit of a bother -- to fly north instead of west, but the fares were cheaper on this route and so here I am, landing in the canal city, yeah, like the Annecy canals and bridges only different. (And no, I don't go into town: it's just the airport this time.)

From Amsterdam, I'm off to Minneapolis, all fine, all on time, and of course, it's always the last leg then that drags. The many hours at the Minneapolis airport. The now posted delay in the outbound flight to Madison. The hope that it wont in the end get cancelled. Usual travel stuff. Still, it feels very much like I'm already home. Like if I stand on my tiptoes, I could see the farmette from here. Almost!

With love... 

last day in Paris

It's always amazing and surprising how a week away seems like a mountain-load of time. Did I really just leave the farmette last Monday? It feels like I've been gone for weeks. In this lies one of the beautiful aspects of travel: just a few days give you the break that you need, so that you can return freshly focused on the life that is your everyday,

I return to Madison tomorrow, but today, the day is completely Parisian and my own. I've done all that I wanted to do. I have no imperatives or even ideas as to what must happen on this last day. There's a semblance of a plan -- I meet my friends for breakfast and then I meet them for lunch. Otherwise -- I can roam, in the way that I like to roam when I want to clear my head and get myself ready for the challenges that always lie ahead.

So, breakfast, with these two.

And then... well, I head out! Where? Well you might ask! Never in my travels have I been so completely without a goal, without a destination. I walk out the door and I try to sense which direction would feel good, where I should turn, where I might pause. I take very few photos. I just keep walking. 

(No matter how well I dress, what jewelry or make up I slap on when I am here, I can never ever hope to measure up to the Parisian older woman. An example: )

And I see that I am heading west, and somehow I managed to find myself on the street with the Rodin Museum and I glance in through the fence...

(school children, leaving behind the Thinker...)

... and this gives me a sudden urge to enter. So I buy a ticket, which I suppose is a bit of a waste because I have no intention of visiting the museum, I just want the Rodin gardens. 

(The Museum, as seen from the garden)

That felt good! 

Next? Well, there is the Invalides Square -- I cross it often and I seem to be crossing it right now, so I must be heading in the direction of the Eiffel Tower, no?

And here's were you run smack into the Rue Cler Market. Lovely autumnal produce. Plums, grapes, mushrooms. Flowers.

I wasn't going to pause, but then I noticed the honey store and of course I dont really need honey because we have quite excellent local honey back home, but maybe I should walk in anyway to see what's there...

I leave with honey. Predictably.

I suppose in the end, this structure was in fact a destination point. Not because I must see the Eiffel Tower on my Paris trip, but because it's on the other side of town from where I'm staying, so if you want to crisscross Paris, chances are you'll wind up at some point at the Eiffel Tower. Especially if you're as much stuck on Left Bank rambles as I am.

On my walk back, I run into my friends. At a shop with children's stuff. That's not terribly surprising -- we were aiming toward the same lunch place where we had a meetup scheduled. Still, it's kind of funny to look up and see someone you know paying for a book in the line just in front of you.

Okay, lunch. Of course, I take them to Cafe Varenne. Is there anyone I haven't taken to Cafe Varenne for lunch? (Well, if I think you wont like it, then I wont suggest it, because it would make me sad to see you trash the place that is such a favorite of mine! But Pawel and Karolina are not trashers of anything -- they're upbeat and great fun to have here and so we sit down and order -- and one dish that Varenne does well is the one with snails. This proves to be very amusing because we cannot get the snails out of their shells and we are almost at the point of cracking the shells to pieces, when finally, through ingenuity and perseverance those two succeed. Me, I just eat the spoils of their effort!

We part again after lunch. I have a few stops to make and so do they. Food, a book, a cup to replace the one I bought here and then broke at home last week. I feel like on this trip I didn't really shop for anyone (except for the grandkids) and especially not for myself, yet somehow I am now carrying several bags and they are heavy. How can this be?

The truth is, I've been walking a lot today. Four hours? Five? I am tired!.

This is what you want to be at the end of your trip to France -- you want to be tired (it means you really fit in a lot), and happy to go home.

In the evening, I again pick a new restaurant for myself: Maison Cluny. (Pawel and Karolina have family in Paris and this evening is reserved for them,) Aside from being well liked, it has this virtue: it is close. A seven minute walk. Today, I need close.

This place, too, gets a glowing review from my hotel and I have to say, the newsletter that the hotel sends to its visitors (which anyone can also find online) has been spot-on with all its suggestions (they can be brutally honest!). The outside terrace of M. Cluny is on a spacious and quiet side street, so that you aren't breathing in car noise and car exhausts all evening long. 

I order two things -- a pumpkin soup which I swear every small Paris restaurant offers at this time of the year, and a pasta with a pimento sauce and bits of shrimp and other shellfish. 

Both are right up there!

I walk back to my hotel very slowly and not only because I have to attack the job of packing up for tomorrow's very long trip. I'm tired, I'm reflective, and I still want to soak in that last evening in Paris.  And I search for ways to take a bit of it back with me: a smell, a mood, a wistful attachment to all that I've seen learned in the hundreds, no, thousands of strolls up and down these streets. 

Still, I am tired. And I am also very happy to be returning to the people and things I love back home.

Paris, once more

We meet downstairs for breakfast. This is the treat of traveling with friends: you get to start the day together.

We. pick up the conversation we last had on the farmhouse porch. One without end. About children, mothers, grandmothers. Elections in Poland, war in Israel, and the relation between the two. About our past lives. About the apartment in Warsaw I once owned that Karolina gutted, redesigned and decorated so beautifully for me.

And it could have continued, this endless stream of thoughts, of shared experiences, but of course, this is Paris, a city where words can flow, but so can the time, away from all you want to see and do here.

As is my habit in Paris, I tend to eventually wander off by myself. These guys are both architects, active participants in the world of design, and they have a full itinerary of Parisian sights, exhibitions and such that they want to cover. They ask me if I want to join up, but I'm feeling less ambitious and so I wave them off and we arrange for a later meetup.

Besides, I have one unfortunate and one fortunate commitment before me.

The unfortunate? Well, I got a call yesterday from the Auberge du Pere Bise. Madame Camic, do you, by any chance, still have the key to the bike you used the other day?

Oh dear.

In the flurry of the return (it was late, there was some truck activity in the parking lot, we were all distracted), I'd not remembered to give back the key. So, first thing on my list? The post office. Located at this intersection of streets:

The second priority is to make use of a ticket I have for the Picasso-Stein show at the Luxembourg Museum. 

(on walk to the museum I pass these kids on a field trip; maybe to the park? elsewhere?)

The exposition itself is not an easy one to view. Predictably so -- Stein is all about words and Picasso -- well, he's Picasso. The title of the exhibition is the Invention of Language: Gertrude Stein's and Pablo Picasso's Shared Revolution. All the descriptive text in the rooms of the museum is in French. But, the two were in the thick of a circle of artists, collectors, and women and men of letters in the Paris of the early 20th century and the exhibition focuses on their connections in that milieu, bring out themes that lead to the further creation of conceptual art in the later part of the century.

G.Stein: "Pablo is doing abstract portraits in painting, I am trying to do abstract portraits in my medium, words."

Possibly one of the more controversial (and therefore interesting) pieces displayed is one by Warhol, from 1980 I believe, created long after Stein was dead. It's a silkscreen called Ten Portraits of Jews of the XXth Century (Warhol nicknamed it "Jewish Geniuses."). Gertrude Stein is among those depicted.

It's interesting to see this show in the Musee Luxembourg, which is right in the park. Both Stein and Picasso lived just a few blocks from this park and both were visitors to it.

(from a publication about the two artists)

(oh, this caught my eye at the gift shop!)

Afterwards, I walk the entire Jardins Luxembourg. The periphery, the obscure corners -- all of it.

It's such a day for it! Warm, sunny, yet autumnal.

(the south end of the park draws young people from nearby schools during lunch break)

(I rarely photograph the Palace from this perspective...)

It's the afternoon and I'm wondering whether I should break my habit of skipping lunch in favor of some midday meal. I scour the neighborhood in search of an idea as to where I could pick up something. Ultimately I shrug my shoulders at every new place and go back to Les Editeurs. Sometimes the act of returning is everything! I always return to Cafe Varenne because of the level of perfection in the simplicity that one finds there. I return to Les Editeurs because it has saved me more than once and I would so miss it were it not there. Countless breakfasts, many lunches, occasional dinners when kids were in Paris. It's never great, but always good enough, and the seating is as comfortable as it gets in these outdoor-oriented eateries.

(salmon, cucumbers, and a blini)

(local strawberries and meringue are hard for me to resist)

(Evening walk to park, just before closing, for my daily check in with Ed...)

And now my friends and I meet up again to eventually make our way to a new place for dinner...

(a pause by a colorful doorway...)

...a restaurant that is recommended by the staff here: Brasserie des Pres (it just opened this June). It's big. It's trendy but ultimately traditionally French. It's a bit crazy, but the food is really good and it does have a more youthful vibe to it, which is appropriate, as my friends are... well, a generation younger than me.

And so the day ends. Well, probably not for them. They're off to explore the far corners of Paris.

Me, I retire to the quiet of my room. To write, to catch up on those back home, to enjoy the floating images that run through my head as I review the day.

with love...