Je suis fatigue.
I am tired.
I was up at 6 a.m.
I couldn’t sleep.
Oh.
I tried.
But gave up the goose around 6:20 a.m.
I popped up and decided to head out to a spot over by the Arc de Triomphe to see some fellows this morning at 8 a.m.
I arrived with plenty of time and was able to grab a quick cafe creme at Comptoir de L’Arc, a little cafe I got turned on to by a friend when I lived here four and a half years ago.
And!
I got a message from that friend today, she’s going to be in town for a quick visit and we are going to meet up at a spot tomorrow with a few other fellows, hang out, do the deal, and go to some French fellowship after.
I am super excited.
I may be super exhausted, but I’m going to sleep when I’m dead.
Or.
Perhaps after I write my blog.
I really did make a big run on the day.
Up so early I felt like I got a scandalous amount of things done today.
One of which has been on my list of things to do in Paris that I never quite got to the last few times I was here.
I went to Marche Aux Enfants Rouge this morning after doing the deal.
I bought cherries and Belle Pomme de Boskop!
My favorite apples in Paris, I believe that they come from Belgium, but they are the apples I used to buy at the market at Square D’Anvers when I lived next to it.
I took my booty to the park nearby, Parc du Temple, sat on a bench and watched the children play in the playground and the ducks paddle about in the pond.
It was spectacular.
Quiet.
Serene.
I had a moment, a Paris moment, and I almost laughed out loud, this, this sitting still on a park bench in a quiet park, off the beaten tourist track, in a sweet neighborhood in the 3rd Arrondisement, may have been one of the highlights of my trip.
It was so serene.
Sometimes a girl has to fly around the world to sit still.
I’m sure I’ll have other opportunities to sit still, although perhaps not tomorrow, as a friend and I are heading to Clingancourt early, but I will give it a shot.
Speaking of friends.
There is nothing, and I mean, nothing quite like bumping into a friend at random in the Marais.
It was amazingly serendipitous.
We walked all over the Marais, chatted, caught up, window shopped.
And.
Ha!
I got my Paris sweatshirt!
Except.
Heh.
It’s not exactly a sweatshirt.
It’s so much better.
And.
It’s so damn me.
It’s a pink satin bomber jacket that I got to have custom patches put on it.
There’s one on the right arm that says Rue Cambon, 1st Arr.
Rue Cambon is where all the fashion house are.
And.
The patch on the back.
Rue de Mauvais Garçon, 3rd Arr.
Literal translation:
Street of the Bad Boys.
Yeah.
I will run with that.
I haven’t had an impulse buy like that in some time and with that I am pretty tapped to with my spending.
I have gotten all my booty and then some.
In fact.
I am a shopped out, museum’ed out, and just about walked out.
My ankle is holding up and I am super glad I go the walking shoes, and I have been careful to not push too hard.
I can easily go too hard too fast.
Which is why I am very happy that I took time today to sit down and watch ducks for a while.
And despite being tired, which frankly makes it harder for me to speak French when my brain isn’t running on a full nights sleep, I got wonderful compliments about my French several times today, and many times over the course of my time here.
I was told by one person that my French was so pretty and where was I from.
He was shocked when I told him that I was from the states.
“But you have no American accent!”
Thank God.
Not that I’m not happy I’m where I’m from, but it does help tremendously to not have the American accent, there is much that is disparaged here about America and sometimes, well, it’s just nice to slide under the radar.
Not that I slide very far under the radar.
I am still quite noticeable in Paris.
I have tattoos you know.
But.
It’s also nice to be recognized.
I had dinner again at a little place by the Musee D’Orsay on Rue de Bac called Cocorico.
The waiter waved me to the table I had last night, the owner came over and chatted with me and we talked about where I was from, again, surprised that I was from America, with my lack of accent, about me being on vacation, that today I was tired, but happy to be eating in her lovely restaurant.
She asked me what I had been doing and I told her, walking and museums and then I told her about the show at the Orangerie and the amazing installation there and she got excited and said she was going to go.
It was a super treat to be chatted with in such a manner, I’m not a local, but I wasn’t treated like a tourist.
She bought my cafe creme for me and when I went to leave she asked my name, “Carmen,” I said, “comme l’Opera.”
Carmen, like the opera.
“Enchante,” she replied, ” je m’appelle Odette.”
I told her it was such a pleasure to meet her and that I was so happy to enjoy her delicious food and I wished her a good night and a good weekend.
I floated out the door.
It’s the little things.
I felt very special.
Thank you Paris for dressing me up in pink satin jackets and making me feel noticed and loved.
It means the world.
It really does.
Auntiebubba 