I am on the train, speeding my way to Luxembourg. My stay in Paris is over, at least the physical aspect is. The essence of Paris is likely to linger, coating, colouring the tangents of my thoughts for the next little while. ‘Did you like Paris?’ It’s complicated …
Paris is full. There is not a square centimetre left empty. My eyes keep pulling in the details, packing sights, sounds, smells, impressions, random reactions into every crevice of my brain. And so, now my head is full.
I found that glass of wine. While getting a little bit lost and slightly turned around on my walk back to the apartment I passed by countless little bars, restaurants, cafes between the Louvre and Le Marais. Some were cute, some were edgy, some somber, some full of life, but none drew me in.
I have claimed my green chair in front of a fountain in le Jardin des Tuileries. It is nearing the end of the day, sun dropping slowly over my right shoulder, the Arc de triomphe du Carrousel straight ahead, the Louvre an immense presence catching the changing light. Supper is a tart, green apple and dark chocolate covered almonds. The only thing I would change is the water in my thermos for wine.
I decided to treat my mom to a few days in the city before heading over to the Island for some down time. No run ‘o the mill box inside a box was going to do for our city escapade. I was determined to find a luxurious-within-financial-reason diamond among the monotonous beige masquerading as homes away from home for our time in Vancouver.