Writing about Paris from the comfort of a poolside lounge chair at a resort — it almost doesn’t seem fair until I mention the haze in the air, the potential sandstorms that threaten to ruin our day, and that I’m on day 3 without cooking gas because every time it runs out the delivery company says, “inshallah, inshallah” and then never shows up. Oh, and I have a broken water pump and a swarm of bees taking up residence outside my girlie’s bedroom window. If you’re ever envious of my life, remember, there’s always a back side to every pretty picture.
But Paris was pretty beautiful both front and back. Day 2 we awoke to clear, chilly skies. I had read about a can’t-miss patisserie so we hopped on Velibs to try more pain au chocolat for breakfast. I wish I could have taken photographs with my eyes (I’m sure that technology is on its way) while riding our bikes because some of the most beautiful views of our trip were the spires of Notre Dame stretching out above the Seine in the early morning light. Since I couldn’t take photos of it I took it all in with my eyes, along with the feeling of the wind in my hair, as we pedaled over the bridge, across the river and down the left bank.
Thankfully Josh was navigating so he got us to a Velib stop near the bakery. Then we fought at breakfast about something stupid while eating perfect pastries — oh, you thought this was going to be all smiles and sunshine? Nope. What I realized from our disagreement is that we haven’t spent enough time together lately and our communication is “off.” Josh has been working long hours and who knows what I’ve been doing, but the end result is where we used to be able read each other well and communicate clearly, we have lost part of that and it is resulting in misunderstandings and frustration. So we got through breakfast and I was only mildly miffed by then (and past the point of refusing to join in eating breakfast and saying that I should have come to Paris with Carter) so we decided to go to the Orsay Museum because it was right around opening time and hopefully that way we would miss the long lines to get in.
It turned out to be a great move because there was a line several hundred people deep, but because we had bought museum passes the day before, we strolled right in through an alternate entrance. The museum was just opening and I told Josh we needed to start at the top floor, with the gallery of Impressionists — the reason everyone comes to the Orsay.
