a Wednesday in Paris

My first time in Paris was on a Wednesday.  I had a day off from the work I was doing just outside the city (I promise I'll get to that eventually!) and was sent into Paris with a carefully outlined map that I paid zero attention to.  I like maps, but I hate reading them.  Fortunately, Katrina is a planner and she is all about maps.  This is one of the many reasons she and I travel so well together.  That and the fact that we can entertain ourselves for hours on a train by playing MASH.


We rode a train into the city and, upon emerging from the depths of the metro, I was immediately struck by how extraordinarily pretty Paris is.  That seems very obvious, doesn't it?  Of course Paris is pretty.  It's girly and feminine and romantic and lovely, every one knows that.  But it's not just the rhythmic language and the fashion and the french music that wafts through the streets (or just in my head).  Paris is the perfect combination of pastels and florals, and every balcony ornate.  It's incredible.  And it's romantic.  And the men are kind enough to offer French lessons, in case anyone is interested in learning a few words.  I digress.

It was a Wednesday and we took the metro to Montmarte.  We walked down the cobblestone street.  I was beaming and giggling and saying things like "I LOVE PARIS!" excitedly and Katrina was also excited but, naturally, much cooler.  We had lunch at a little cafe (I had duck confit and yes, of course I will eventually post a photo of it) and then we started walking up.  Hills, stairs, up we went until we arrived at the base of Sacre Coeur, the most beautiful church I have ever seen - not only because it is architecturally lovely and historical and my mother has told me about it for years so seeing it finally was really cool and special, but also because it has this amazing panoramic view of Paris.  It was hazy, but a little haze is ok with me when the sun is shining down and I'm in Paris.  I snapped photos outside of the building and the street performers juggling a soccer ball, then we wandered through the interior of the basilica (which was staggering, by the way).  We eventually strolled through the neighborhood, grabbing a table outside at a busy square.  We drank wine, watched a mime entertain the crowds of tourists, guessed where passers-by hailed from and made friends with a group of Australians.

After drinking our wine and purchasing post cards from one of the countless shops that lined the street, we wandered back down the hill to the stretch of lawn that connected this holy place to that pretty city.  We sprawled out and chatted and laughed and said "non, merci" to what seemed like fifteen different men selling Heinekens and "yes, oui" to several camera wielding folk requesting photos that weren't taken by self-timer or outstretched arms.  It was a perfect way to spend a Wednesday afternoon, and the day only got better as it went on.  But the remainder of the evening is a post for another day, methinks.