Paris, Je T'aime. {Day Two}




"People wonder why so many writers come to live in Paris. I’ve been living ten years in Paris and the answer seems simple to me: because it’s the best place to pick ideas. Just like Italy, Spain.. or Iran are the best places to pick saffron. If you want to pick opium poppies you go to Burma or South-East Asia. And if you want to pick novel ideas, you go to Paris.” 
― Roman PayneCrepuscule

Thursday. The day broke bright and early. I awoke to my parents laughing- my daddy trying to pronounce multiple French words made me smile, too. Natural light was streaming through the windows: clouds, rain..and chill. 

We stretched, and talked about plans for the day. At about eleven o' clock, after the sun came out and we found the temperature would hit an unusual 89 degrees, we left our apartment for the bus- stop, about six minutes brisk walk (but who does a brisk walk in Paris..?). At the end of the day, peering in shop windows, admiring the whole fish on the corner, and stopping to purchase bus tickets at the tobacco shop, it took us about fifteen.  

While waiting for our bus (bus 69- to take the roundabout scenic "tour" of sorts), we girls stepped into a tiny boutique, which sold all manner of decorative kitchen articles- painted spoons, plates, dishes, and of course espresso cups. We missed the first bus, and left, thanking the sales-woman, determined to come back later in the week. The (second) bus arrived fourteen minutes later, and we boarded.

Our plan in taking this bus was to have some sort of scenic route to follow. We also wanted to see an outline of sifts. "Oohing" and "ahhing" at the beautiful streets, buildings, and doors (yes, doors: beautiful, painted, old-fashioned doors), we traveled the line and stopped off at the heart of Paris, after marveling at the size of the Louvre, and wishing we could take a swim in the Seine. Grace-Hope fairly squealed with glee after catching sight of the Tour d'Eiffel; we immediately started in that direction, anticipation etched on our faces. 

Since the line to take the escalator was about one to two hours long (though you CAN reserve a spot online, we had just not planned to stop), we took the stairs to the first, and then second, floors. Though several flights, we are all in good walking condition, except my dad with his knee. However, even he did not have a problem with the steps; I ended up taking my inhaler towards the second half of the climb, due to the air becoming thinner, and feeling under the weather as it was.  The view was arguably better at the second than anywhere else, as you could actually determine where you were at, the landmarks, etc. Finally, we took the glass elevator to the top, and breathed deeply of the breeze as we glanced below. 

The view was spectacular...it was more than I thought it would be. I stared down into the Seine below, and felt a delightful shiver go down my spine..

The whole trip took until half-past two; Alexandrea, Marmee, and I picked up some post-cards in the gift shop. We enjoy picking up "original" post-cards and framing them in little collections. I have a collection of various plaques (think inspiration wall) of sayings/Scriptures on the wall behind my bed, and anticipate the framing and display of my most-recent three favorite postcards. 

We returned to the bus-stop, meeting a couple from New York City, who told us we had to visit the Luxembourg Gardens. The lady actually recently lived near we currently are now. 

It was late by the time the bus reached our original stop, but on the way back, we ducked into a little pasta shop, purchasing two small jars of sauce (Pesto Rosso, and Tomate Truffe Blanche), which were delicious...oh, goodness, so delicious. The former sauce was a pesto, but t was spicy, and unlike any I have ever tasted; the latter was very distinct, salty, and truffle-y: it was my favorite. 

My parents went to sit across the street, and the three of us girls went to take a break in our apartment. Grace-Hope amused herself by cleaning everything up (I seriously wish I understood the phenomenon of keeping someone else's house clean as opposed to her won room...); Alexandrea worked on some homework, I readWhen God Writes Your Love Story, by Eric and Leslie Ludy. 

Mama and Daddy came home a while later with a fresh crust of bread. Then Marmee and I worked in the kitchen on our meal of pasta and salad. When we opened our pasta, the scent filled the air...fresh pasta is the best- so was the concensus of my family as we ate. We put our forks down between bites, truly tasting, thoroughly enjoying the flavors. The salad contained fresh lemon and fresh goat cheese; these flavors were deemed wonderful as well. 

At that point, we louged around the table, talking, discussing plans for tomorrow. 
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