It’s Raining In Paris Right Now

We have a fabulously low-key apartment in Bastille right around the corner from the Marais where we shopped like crazy on Sunday. Saturday was spent hanging out with Tina, getting into the apartment, napping and then having a really nice lunch and dinner. Yesterday we went to the Louvre, which was madness. Absolute insanity. A whole whack of people who should probably learn to appreciate art in their every day lives and not jam up lines and ask the only ticket taker where the farking Mona Lisa sits. In the end, I meandered slowly around the Flemish and French sections, and came upon Holbein’s Anne of Cleves, which made my day. The two Vermeer’s in the gallery are also spectacular, but the more popular paintings are often crowded by pushy people and tours.

Then we took the Metro to the start of the “Bookworm” walk in our Lonely Planet guide. From Hemingway’s apartment to Shakespeare and Company to the pub where Kerouac and Ginsberg drank (I had two half pints). We saw one of the oldest churches in Paris, the remains of St Genvieve and Ici Repose le Coeur, which is the heart of someone named Voisine. I just like the translation: Here Lies the Heart. Perhaps a good title for a novel.

I’ve bought a sweater, a couple funky shirts and a super-cute skirt and today we might walk the Champs Elysses and walk up the Arc and, of course, do more shopping. We had thought about going to Brussels but the train tickets are expensive, the weather less than exeptional and we have our apartment here for the whole week. I only wish that it would stop raining. It’s not Ireland for heaven’s sake.

I’m a little homesick, especially at night, for my RRHB, my cats, my own bed, but we’re managing. The food is unbelievable.