Last big about Paris

I apologize for leaving you hanging. I was on a vacation back to America by myself and lost track of time. Blogs on that subject to follow. But for now, I want to finish recreating my memories of Paris.

My all time favorite stop in Paris was Montmartre and Sacre Coeur. I think knowing that Ernest Hemingway, Coco Chanel, Pablo Picasso and other "greats" have walked these same streets gathering inspiration for their art, stories, and paintings made the place even more magical.

As we meandered our way through the charming little alleys filled with vendors, someone called out my husband's name. I was confused at first, but we turned around to see a high school classmate standing in front of us! How in the world could we run into somebody we know in such an obscure place? What if we were just five minutes later? What if we decided to to go Sacre Coeur another day? These questions may never be answered but it was a small luxury to see a friendly American face so very far from home.

Once we got to the top of the hill, everybody was hungry. We couldn’t afford to feed a family of six at the charming little bistros along the way and so we fed them ice cream. They will attest for some time that it was the best lunch ever! It felt so easy to be a great parent in that moment.

When we arrived at Sacre Coeur, our slow moving bunch got trapped. Several African men had the kids hold out their fingers on which they tied bracelets. As they weaved and wound they kept smiling and saying, “Hakuna matata” to the kids. Soon after, big surprise, they asked for money. Since it was our second to last day in Paris, I didn’t want to use up our euros when I knew they paid pennies for their embroidery floss. In fact, Number 1 makes these bracelets for me all the time----for free! They wanted 10E, but I offered them 5. They argued and when I made it clear I wouldn’t relent, they agreed to take 5 euro and let us be on our way.

Next, we saw another African man climbing up a lamppost whilst balancing a soccer ball on a ball-point pen held by his teeth. He was truly amazing. I’m pretty sure he made a good living that sunny day.

We hung out to hear bad karaoke done by a Spaniard who was singing American songs and then lingered inside the church to hear the beginning of Sunday evening mass. It was incredible to me that a nun whose life was completely cloaked in simplicity and devotion, could have the most beautiful worldly voice I have ever heard. We stood still and enjoyed the moments in this ageless church.

Then we paid the Euros to climb to the top of the dome. I honestly think Europeans laugh at stupid tourists who pay to climb stairs. We took it step-by-step up 300 winding steps in a corridor about the size of a small closet and made it to the top of the dome. There we could see the opposite view of the city skyline complete with the Eiffel Tower and the city center. While I volunteered to take the kids to the local squatty potty, the hubs stayed up top to catch the sunset.

That evening we went to Trocadero to see the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. We fed the kids yet another loaf of bread for dinner and headed back to our hotel.

So that about sums it up for Paris. It was beautiful,friendly, and certainly as romantic as I imagined. I suppose some day if I take a crack at novel writing, I would want to be eating baguettes, drinking espresso, and walking the streets of Montmartre for inspiration. Until then, Moscow it is.