Wednesday was a big walking day, I wanted to be extra hungry for my dinner at Robert et Louise (one of the main reasons for going to Paris) that night. Richard (motion) had said I should venture into the Latin Quarter. It was supposed to be high 60s and was literally perfect out, so off I went.
Wednesday turned out to be
Rude Parisian vs. Ugly American day. Both a great day and a sad day.
Latin Quarter. Imagine every garish, lurid, trashy, kitschy, vulgar, glittering, tawdry, loud, cheap tchotchke
every American would want to bring home from their amazing trip to Paris. It was all here. Given the majesty of the city in the last 2 days, Wednesday morning was shameful because, after all, that stuff wouldn't be hanging everywhere if it didn't sell, to us. Well, not us, but you know. So I headed out of the tourist-laden basin of the Latin Quarter as quickly as I could walk, even passing up the chance to visit what looked like a nice little fromagerie. I didn't see any Kraft Singles (TM) in the window but given everything else, I wouldn't have been surprised.
Little did I know that salvation was at the top of the hill. And at the bottom of the hill on the other side.
After lunch I headed back down the hill in another to go home. I found this huge park and like many other Parisians, decided it would be nice to lay down on the grass and soak up the sun. That lasted a full hour+ before the park police whistle shattered our little piece of nirvana and we all scurried off the grass. Time to go.
Looking up through the trees. A white dove was flying about, a nice diversion when my eyes were open. Definitely need to go back when leaves are about.
