L’hiver à Paris

Wednesday, January 23, 2020

I met Marie and family at the Jardin Villemin (which she just calls “the park”) this morning. It was frosty when I left my apartment, even though the sun was shining bright over a brilliant blue sky. I wore my ski jacket, last years’ fortgotten lift tickets fluttering from the right pocket zipper. A city worker, dressed in two shades of cheery green, would later tell me on the street that my things were falling out of my pocket. Instead of saying, “c’est OK - ils sont connecté,” I just said, “merci.”

I feel confident, beautiful, powerful, and full of life and love.

The canal was glassy last night, the unusually warm January evening in full swing around the placid waters. This flat is my favorite so far, with this gorgeous view from my front windows. I’m above Chez Prune, the most famous gathering spot / bar in the 10th arrondissement. I was afraid it might be noisy, but I’m far enough up that I cannot hear the din below.

It’s incredibly peaceful in front of the windows, the canal my priceless front yard. Tourists come and go, but mostly, it’s Parisians walking from one side to the other. I observed the magic hour from up here today, noting the cute impromptu photo shoots. The graffiti doesn’t take away from the splendor of the view; in fact, I think it adds to it. Along the banks of the Seine, about a mile south of here, everything has the same clean-ish look. The buildings tower over the most historic parts of the city, all grander and more historic than the next. But here, in the 10th, the residents embrace the “different” - street art everywhere, bright clothes in front windows, rainbow crosswalks... it feels so much more like home than my first place on Rue LeCourbe. Thank you, Marie, for living and raising your kids here. It happened by chance, but it’s made all the difference.