The Perfect Day in Paris

I woke to the sound of rain against the balcony of my apartment and thought that the day would be spent inside at the Louvre. I'd been lucky up until this point, the only rain I'd encountered was my travel day from London to Paris. Blue, sunny skies had forced spring to bloom and each day on my walk to the Metro, the leaves and flowers poked their heads from beneath their buds.  I thought my luck had run out, but by noon, after I finished my laundry and a bit of work, the skies cleared and sunshine sparkled off the rain drops on the plants making the world look fairy-like.

I put on a spring dress and a sweater and went to the Luxemburg gardens, which turned out to be my favorite place in Paris. The Luxemburg Palace seemed more like a country estate in the middle of a city than a palace. I sat by the fountain watching the children feed the ducks and parents play with toddlers. Locals lounged in chairs, their arms bared to the sun soaking in the warm light. In the last few days I've barely stopped, sometimes being on my feet for over seven hours. Here I relaxed, eating bread and cheese. When I finally rose to walk around the gardens I spent an hour smelling the flowers, watching men and women play bocci in the square, and for the first time I felt a part of Parisian life instead of a tourist.

The sky was still blue as I left the gardens and made my way to St. Supuis and St. Germain, two churches within the Latin District. I have to say, though lovely, I've had my fill of being inside beautiful, old churches after being in Italy last year and then seeing five churches these past few weeks. As I left St. Germain, I saw the dark clouds moving towards me. Since I'd left my umbrella at home I figured I would shop until the rain hit and then wherever I was I would take cover. I roamed through the artisan market next to St. Germain, made my way through bright-colored shops of fancy clothing, costume jewelry, and perfume forcing myself to behave as I found the ultimate shopping in Paris - the Latin Quarter. Here, I could afford the prices and the items were unique and to my liking, but still there was the issue of room in the suitcase.

As I turned down a small side street, the sound of thunder shook the buildings and I ran for the nearest cover - an ice cream shop. I love gelato. I ate it twice per day while in Italy, and I never thought a gelato could rival that of Michelangelo's Piazza's gelatori in Florence - but Amorino in Paris is actually better. As the rain came down in sheets, I sat outside under the umbrellas eating double chocolate and cherry cream. I took in my surroundings: the patter of the rain, the cobblestone streets, the floral shop, the Paris architecture, the brassiere and patisseries while I savored my dessert and thought, wow, here I am - this couldn't be any better.

The rain stopped and I walked around the Latin Quarter peeking in shops until I found the temptation that broke me. A store called Parfums had unique, feminine clothing all hand-sewn and designed by the woman who owned the shop. I tried on a dress that didn't look quite right. The woman shook her head and brought me three different outfits that all fit my body perfectly. "Tres Jolie," she said with each spin I took in the mirror. I added the amounts, did the conversion and realized I could afford the splurge, but could my suitcase? NO, but I couldn't leave the skirt and dress behind. I'm in Paris, shopping has to be part of my experience, so I bought them.

I left with my fancy shopping bag and made my way to the Seine. As I crossed the pedestrian bridge and looked towards Notre Dame, a rainbow appeared. I mean come on, how more perfect could the day get? I smelled the fresh air, I watched the people, I strolled to Notre Dame and took pictures as the sun set. I made my way to the Isle de la Cite and spent another hour perusing quaint, bright shops, trying to speak french to the shopkeepers who thought I was local.

As night fell, I walked from the low-lit Hotel de Ville, along the Seine to the Louvre. I sat inside the Palace looking at the candlelit facade as I listened to a man play the cello. And in that moment I felt that life was perfect.

Impressionism and a Whirlwind Tour

801 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

"Art is an abstraction; take it from nature while dreaming in front of it." Paul Guaguin

I love the Impressionists. As Robert put it, on my first night in Paris, "Most art is religious or stern portraits of royalty. Most paintings were created to show sacrifice or power. The Impressionist are colorful, bright pictures that make you feel alive."

What he says is true. Impressionism brings the softness of every day life to a place in your heart. With swishes of paint it reflects the light and color of the world. Instead of demanding you see the hard lines of reality, it blurs the landscapes into something serene and almost touchable, as if the world is in a constant state of peace.

To walk the halls of art lined with Monet, Degas, Renoir, and Van Gogh has once again left me in awe of my life. I'm so blessed.

It's wild to watch the other travelers rush through the museum. They stop at each painting for a brief moment and then move on. It's hard for me to understand how they can do this since I find it almost painful to look away knowing that I won't see these masterpieces again for many years.

I've noticed the rushing is true of many tourists, not just with art, but also with the great scenery of the world. I remember sitting at the Grand Canyon and watching people walk up to the edge, take dozen of photos, and then say, "Let's get some ice cream." I wonder if our fast-paced regular life has left humans with the inability to really experience the greatness this world has to offer. I think it's been forgotten how to stop and take in the present moment and in that the memory of how to really live is lost.

Paris is full of tour buses. The tour leaders sit up front pointing out the important buildings and monuments while half the passengers are fast asleep from exhaustion. This is the way most travelers see the world - whirlwind tours set to tight time schedules that leave little space for the unexpected. I want to yell at them to get off the bus and out from the hordes that follow leaders holding up closed umbrellas. Get out and experience the city you're in. Realize you're blessed to be standing in front of true magnificence and take more than a second to soak it in.

Okay enough of my rant for the day.

After the museum I walked to Notre Dame and began to stroll along the Seine to take in the setting sun and the way the light hits the buildings casting a golden hue across the facades. Within moments I was joined by a man named David. He spoke french and I forced the wheels of my memory to move as I listened. Actually, my french began to return a few nights before when an annoying man followed me to my hotel insisting I give him my phone number. Suddenly, my bitch came on 'en francais'. To my surprise he clearly understood what I said and ran away. So when David approached I could actually ask him in french to speak slower so I could understand. He did slow but I learned that David didn't take life at a relaxed pace.

Within moments he had my hand and was racing me through the streets of Paris showing me Hotel de Ville, the best chocolate shop in Paris, and the Royal Palace. He grabbed my camera, snapping pictures of me and then handed it to a woman to take a picture of the two of us. He danced me in the streets, hugged me to him, all the while kissing my cheek as I ducked and swerved my head so as not to be kissed on the lips. His enthusiasm was contagious as he had me laughing while he tried to enrich my knowledge of the french language and pretended we were going to go for a swim in the Seine.

He insisted we take the boat ride along the Seine, but I was tired and hungry by this time and ready to call it a night. I bid him adieu with a kiss on the cheek and made my way across the Seine to home.

Gluttonous Pleasure

802 Days Left to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

I want to know why we don't have food like this in the states. It's a crime. We are deprived! I want every meal to start with french cheese topped with fig sauce. Or maybe I want to sit and eat this dish until my belly bursts.

I believe it's time Americans stop eating fake food. Think of the space we could save if our massive grocery stores didn't need to carry all the processed stuff. Instead they would pack every aisle with rich, creamy, yummy whole food. We need more cream, cheese, butter, and sauce. We'd be happier, probably healthier and thinner if when we ate it gave us tremendous pleasure. I believe we're supposed to have flavors explode in our mouth so that eating is an experience instead of a quick grab for energy. Life is supposed to be tasty and we are being deprived.

As you can see, I've found french food. Last night I had butternut squash that probably had a half a stick of butter in its ingredients. The lemon chicken, with its crunchy skin still on, tasted marvelous drenched in lovely gravy. I have three more days in Paris and I'm wondering how I can eat as much as possible while still taking time to see more museums and sights. I might have to forgo viewing the city for food.

The real eating began as I visited Versailles Chateau outside of Paris. I sat at the center pools in the garden, watching the swans and boats move across the water as I ate a Nutella crepe. I love Nutella. (I know Nutella isn't French, only the Italians could make up something so sinful. I have a deep addiction to the chocolate hazelnut spread and I can only allow myself to eat it when I'm in Europe. Once I start I can't stop. It's a good thing I'm in Europe and I can eat as much as I want.) As I sat and ate, music from the Royal Philharmonic came from the palace. It was one of those perfect moments where all I could do was take in how amazed I was at having this experience.

As I looked at Versailles, I began to wonder if I wouldn't fit better in another era of time. I'm rather old fashion in many ways, especially when it comes to romance. I like being feminine and I enjoy being taken care of and allowing a man to take the lead. I can open a door on my own just fine, but do appreciate the chivalry of having one opened for me. I'm not one to rush into a physical relationship and maybe that's why my mind doesn't think that having a conversation, drinks, and dinner with a man I just met has either party thinking about sex. I love the clothing of the past, and I dress conservatively in many people's eyes, but I believe the beauty of a woman is in her class and the way she carries herself, not in flaunting her cleavage.

So as I walked through the inside of the palace with dreams of dancing in the great hall under fifty chandeliers. I honestly felt born into the wrong time. Then I came to the queen's apartments and a story gave me second thoughts.

Nineteen royal children were born in Versailles. The queens were forced to have public births to insure that they didn't fake their pregnancies. Now it's really cool that they got to live in a palace, and their kids were in line for the thrown, but their husbands could take as many mistresses as they fancied, house them next door to the queens' room, and they had to have witnesses to  their sweating and screaming in the most intimate of moments. Now I know there are women in modern day who go on TLC to have their births documented, so maybe a public birth is no big deal, but no thanks.

I realized that I live at a time where though sometimes the feminine spirit is squashed, the whole world is open to me in a way that it's never been in the past.

It's still strange to many people that as a woman I travel alone. I get comments like, "But you're pretty. You're man let's you do this?" First off, I belong to me, and I don't need a man's permission to see the world. Second, what do my looks have to do with traveling, and third, what does being a woman have to do with going out into the world to explore? There are still so many stereotypes, but that's one of the reasons I'm making my journey public. I want women to see that it's amazing to travel the world solo, because there is nothing like being gluttonous and enjoying every morsel life can bring.