Hello Paris!

I made it! Paris is as glorious and certainly not as crowded as it was during my last visit in July.

Also, I didn't really mean to publish those last two posts. I was trying to figure out how to get my pics where I wanted them on the page. Yet again, I am out-witted by this damned computer. The good news is that you got the enchilada recipe. Who knows what may be posted next?



My son Graydon, a talented writer, successful blogger http://48minutesofhell.com/, and all around amazing guy, impressed upon me that I didn't need to post everyday, but that I did need to be diligent and thoughtful about my writing. It is for that reason that I have waited until today, a rainy Monday, to play catch up.




Let's back up to last Friday. As you know, I was worried about catching my connection and, in particular, about my luggage. As I exited my flight from Austin, a nice man named Daniel met me at the plane door and whisked me to an American Airlines van destined for my gate. I know, I was surprised too. My driver, Joseph (who apparently has a desire to drive for NASCAR) got me to my gate with time to spare. The jet bound for Paris was an enormous sardine can for those of us in coach. Lucky for me, the person seated next to me was an interesting, polite Dallas physician who had impeccable hygiene. Those of you who have experienced very long plane flights understand the pre-flight fear of the other possibilities. Other than the fact that the food was inedible, the movie was pathetic, and the drunk folks behind us talked dirty to each other and kicked our seats for nine hours or so, everything was terrific. Upon arrival in Paris, my luggage popped up immediately, and a sweet Frenchman named Jean Paul was there, my name on a sign, to meet me and take me to my little apartment in St. Germain des Pres.


After unpacking a whole lot of stuff that I'm sure I won't need, I tried to figure out the tv and and washing machine. I've decided to go with whatever happens with those particular appliances.



I took a shower and headed off to "food heaven", La Grande Epicerie Paris. Trust me, it's not just for devoted foodies like me, although I would liken it to Disney World. I soon made a discovery. Don't go there on a Saturday. It was a "shoulder to shoulder" experience with Parisians. Nonetheless, I had fun, but I bought way more than any one woman should plan to carry home. (If you think that I was going to leave the wine behind, think again!) Everything there is beautiful, fresh and downright perfect. Not a lot of English speakers, by the way, but that's good. It pushes me to speak more French. I chicken out all the time when it comes to that.



Almost everything is closed on Sundays in Paris. The exception is museums. In fact, on the first Sunday of the month the Musee D'Orsay is free. If I had known that, I wouldn't have gone there today. The line was at least a quarter mile long. No, really it was. I managed to slip in the door meant for people with reservations (it wasn't hard) and got to spend two wonderful hours wandering around one of my favorite museums. The museum was swarming with people, but the whole experience was entirely wonderful!


Five or six people, both French and English speakers, asked me for directions today. Oddly enough, I was able to help all of them. I loved it. At least I felt like I blended in to a degree. After all, I believe in the old adage, "When in Rome".






My feet hurt! Those favorite cowboy boots have let me down. I wanted to buy more groceries, but everything seemed too far away or wasn't open. Luckily, the little market across the street is always open. Today was my second visit to them, and they already remember me. Nice folks!