My husband and I have been talking about doing a trip to Paris and touring some of the wineries in the countryside, for which France is famous. My French is rusty, although I am now taking a refresher course in the hopes that my fluency will return.
As I started thinking about this trip, I recalled a previous trip we took to Paris when we first became engaged. It was his idea to officially propose in Paris and give me a ring, but I blew it. We worked in the same office, and I saw a phone message from his jeweler that said that the ring was in, so I “encouraged” him to give it to me that evening. Anyway, the trip was “merveilleux."
Call us decadent, but we spent only a weekend in Paris, although it was a long holiday weekend. It was the first time I had visited Paris in a month other than August. The French traditionally go on holiday themselves in August, so I had neither seen nor met many “Parisiens” in past trips.
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My husband (fiancé at the time) and I arrived early Friday morning and our room was not ready, so we dropped off our bags and did a rather lengthy promenade from the Opéra area, past the Louvre, to the “Rive Gauche.” Although we had promised ourselves that we would not spend the weekend shopping for souvenirs for the folks left at home, guilt somewhat overcame us, and we browsed and bought in many of the shops on the Rue de Rivoli.
Stopping at a café was “de rigueur,” as was strolling on the Champs-Elysées and seeing the Arc de Triomphe and the Tour Eiffel. I hadn’t thought about the fact that dining could be a problem for me, since it is nearly impossible to find a restaurant serving dinner much before 10 pm, and, in those days, I had to eat on a schedule, having been newly diagnosed with diabetes. I can get cranky when my blood sugar gets low (or so I have been told.) A big annoyance was that the bars charged 2 francs to use the facilities, a fact I didn’t remember from previous trips.
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Exploring new areas of the city, flirting with waiters (boy, you can get away with a lot when your companion doesn’t speak the language!), and visiting the magnificent Impressionist collection at the Musée d’Orsay were among the highlights for me. The cuisine, of course, was outstanding. In fact, the French take such pride in their food that our hotel chambermaid, seeing that I had brought a bag of my own food from home (for medical emergencies), threw out the bag, saying she thought it was trash. Our travel agent was very apologetic about this incident and sent us a check to cover the loss - $25.00! We used it as a contribution to the down payment of our new house.
All in all, the trip was great. I remember we were sitting at a café the last evening, looking around, and my husband said, “What’s changed most since you were here 19 years ago?” My answer: “Me!”
The memories are wonderful, and should this impending vacation materialize, I will be looking forward to making new memories and resolving a perpetual challenge for me: when I ask someone for directions, I would like to understand what he or she responds! Vive la France!
