Christmas Time Visitor

by

I was not happy to get up this morning at 7 a.m.

But I was happy to go meet Kellie at the Eurolines bus stop.

She came in today at 9a.m. on an overnight bus from London.

Funny, that, Barnaby headed out this morning at 10 a.m. to London to stay with his aunt and uncle and cousins for Christmas.

I got a swap!

Kellie and I actually know each other from San Francisco.

It is truly a small world.

When we discovered that we would be in Europe at the same time we made plans to meet up.  She got transferred with her job to London and I got transferred with my dream to Paris.

We hatched wee plans on Valencia Street.

It seems so far away, Valencia Street, San Francisco.

Another time, another place, another set of dreams.

It was wonderful, too, to share my progress with the book (worked on it some more today, handy when a guest is weary from traveling, they take a nap.  I concluded to work on the book instead of rest, it was tempting,the looks my bed was sending, but I wanted to take advantage of her down time to work), with my move, with Paris.

The crazy.

The faith.

Keeping the faith.

That has been really positive.

Of course, this morning on the Metro coming back into the city from the Periphery, it was challenging to remember that.  I was tired, a little cold, and a little turned around.

Kellie was tired too and excited and I wanted to share my Paris with her and also get to Maison Pairossale in time for my Sunday commitment.

We made it back to the 9th, hopped off Metro Cadet, trundled up the hill to 36 Rue Bellefond, grabbed a couple of apples and headed back out the door.

We not only got there on time, we had a few extra minutes to spare.  Kellie was hungry and we were both in need of caffeine, deux creme s’il vous plait.

To stand up at the copper topped bar in the cafe, the same cafe I had come to three and a half years ago after I got off my plane, with Kellie, from San Francisco, via London, and order two coffees.

I cannot quite express how lovely.

Lovely it was, be assured.

We went off into the neighborhood to do the deal then headed out toward that infamous of infamous sights, the Eiffel Tower.

It was the busiest I have seen the site since I have been in town.

It is Christmas time and there are loads of people who left the city, but there are also a lot of people in celebrating as well.

I noticed, too, that more stores were open than normal.

Sunday in the city is not usually so busy.

The Carrefour on my street was open today.

As was the boucherie and a number of boutique stores.  Overall, it was still a Sunday in Paris and the L’Unversitie Cafe I promised to Kellie was closed.

We could only take some much tower, before it was discovered that we were both really hungry, it was after two and time to get.

We ended up just down the “rue” at another cafe I had recently been turned on to, the oh so aptly named, original, no? A La Tour Eiffel.

I had a tartare prepare, my go to now, and Kellie had a nice salade and les pommes frites.

And we had a scammer waitress.

Nice try lady.

The l’addition, the bill, was 26 Euro, Kellie put 30 on the plate and the waitress said rapidly, “pas de change?  Merci, Joyeux Noel.”

Kellie nodded and she headed blithely off with a 4 Euro tip in her pocket.

Salope.

Madame, pardon, le change s’il vous plait.

I demanded.

She muttered under her breath and came snappily back to the table digging furiously in her apron.  Just because my friend doesn’t speak French does not mean you get to keep a humongous tip, you gave shit service anyhow.

The waitress was not pleased to be caught out, tried for a moment to say something, and I just interrupted, shook my head, asked again and got the change back.

Seriously?

Not going back to your establishment any time soon.

I mean, I doubt you’re concerned, but bite me, Merry Christmas my ass lady.

After that we headed over to Pont d’Ilena to cross from the Left Bank to the Right and hop onto the Metro.

It was time for a nap.

Time for me to work on my book.

Time to be mellow.

Do a little research and yes, Virginia, down load a Christmas movie or two.

Not the one you’re thinking either.

Although, I am sure y’all could figure it out rather quickly, there are only so many Christmas movies I like.

My favorite?

Holiday Inn with Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, Marjorie Reynolds, and Virginia Dale.

I also like the copy cat one, really, I bet they used the same sets and costumes, for White Christmas, but I believe Holiday Inn came first.

I will never forget the first time I saw it, at the house in Windsor, on PBS, by myself, on a little black and white television (remember those?).

Yes, I am dating myself, but no, I am not that old, trying maybe instead, I am classifying my self, as in we were damn poor and had not a real color tv but some little tiny portable thing that we would huddle around.

I did not care.

I was enrapt.

The dancing, the singing.  There was something sweet, innocent, even in the little scandoulousness of the mood, that I was taken with.

So, I have me some Bing to sing to and yes, I also down loaded “Love Actually”.

Seemed apropos considering my guest here from London.

Perhaps I should try to find a French Christmas movie.

Although, if you want a French Christmas movie, you could just read my blog.

I’ll tell you all about Christmas in Paris.

Starting with a dinner in the Montmartre with my new Paris friends and my old San Francisco, via London, friend Kellie, finishing with midnight mass at Sacre Couer.

I think that could make for some interesting viewing, no?

Christmas in Paris.

I am here, in Paris, on Christmas.

Really?

How lucky am I?

Beyond.

Christmas Trimmings

Christmas Trimmings

Holiday Lights

Holiday Lights

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, Christmas Tree

Oh, Christmas Tree

 

 

 

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