Paris On My Mind

Last night I told ES and my friend Ginny that I am ready for a return trip to Paris. Right now. I've been home in Houston for five days and it has been hard to get my mind around the schedule I see outlined in my calendar. Instead, I think about Paris streets and shops and cafes and museums and markets. I look at the photos on my iPhone, photos I have yet to upload on to my laptop (See the post about hours spent at the Apple store.). I write more random notes about Paris, not wanting to forget details, impressions, fleeting moments.
I am indeed happy to be home. I simply want to be in two places at once. ES is recovering nicely from hip surgery that took place while I was flying over Iceland, or perhaps Quebec. He draws and reads as I recall my days in Paris.
I would like to drop by again at our neighborhood fruit market on rue Rambuteau for a sack of fragrant apricots and a petite box of currants.
I'd like to sit in a green chair in the Tuileries. I could also sit by the pools and people watch.
I want to buy each of my grandchildren a small replica of the Eiffel Tower from a tall black Senegalese street vendor.
I'd love another ride on Metro, because with each ride I became ever more familiar with routes and station names, saw the great diversity of the city and heard musicians playing in those white tiled underground corridors.
I would certainly browse again at Shakespeare and Company bookstore on the Left Bank and catch a drink of water from a Wallace fountain.
I could return to Musee Carnavalet, Histoire de Paris, because I entirely missed the galleries devoted to the French Revolution. I did see alot at this museum and left on visual overload.
I would take another walk in the Marais district because its streets were tantalizing and dense with shops, cafes and crowds.
I would make another reservation at that tiny restaurant, La Cordonnerie, so I could watch the chef in  prepare mouth watering sauces for pan grilled fish and fill glasses with raspberries and mango mousse.
I would return to the Clingancourt flea market to reassess a vintage painting I left behind. I did not even ask the price. I do confess that I bought a smaller painting from the same dealer and am now pondering where I will hang it.
I would spend a rainy day at Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise, with umbrella and map in hand. And then I'd simply walk miles of city streets, as we did day after day, savoring each moment.

How did I become so enamored of Paris in one 17 day visit? Hard to say. As I write this, it is almost dusk here in Houston. The cat is asleep at the end of the bed. It is quiet. Home is good. And so is Paris.

Comments