Two Weeks in Paris

Photo by Daria Shevtsova on

Continuing with yesterday’s theme, and to enhance my memories of my trip when I try to recall it years from now, my blog will serve as my diary of Two Weeks in Paris, Winter 2022 edition.

I was born in Beaumont, TX, which is not at all like Paris other than people live in both places. I dreamt of Europe all of my childhood. I’d put myself to sleep imaging myself living abroad — always a home in Paris, sometimes a chalet in Switzerland or an old mansion with big bay windows and a comfy window seat with a plush red curtain overlooking the English countryside.

And now, I’m here, in “my” apartment (well, me and 12 other owners), in the Marais. And it’s as lovely as I imagined it would be.

Our flight here arrived so early that we had to wait on the airport bus before entering the terminal for the Covid checkers to arrive. Once they did, we handed over our Covid vaccination cards, our negative Covid tests, and our sworn statements promising to get another antigen test within 24 hours and then on to the regular passport/customs/baggage lines. After the taxi from Paris Orly airport we settled into the apartment, then walked the neighborhood soaking it all in… and ate a croissant with all the flakes.

I didn’t like croissants before, but now I am addicted. The carbs and butter are not the best way to start my 2022 diet trying to lose my Covid weight, but they are delicious!

I don’t know what this is a photo of, but it reminds me of Beaumont, TX Photo by Kindel Media on
In contrast… Paris. Photo by Elina Sazonova on

After an afternoon of walking, capped off by Falafels to go and a bottle of wine, we slept. And slept. Intermittently, awaken by calls from the States unaware that we were on a different time zone, until 11:30 this morning. I still felt groggy.

Photo by cottonbro on

Nothing that a croissant and some Earl Grey couldn’t solve! Then we wandered the streets, coming across a clothing sale in a warehouse where 1 kilo of clothing was 10 euros and I got a dress and a shirt for 4 euros. They ended up not fitting (until I lose 10 pounds?), but it was fun to browse anyway.

Then work calls, and translating the French/Italian oven manual with the help of Google Translate so we could prepare chicken, veggies and baked sweet potato for dinner, accompanied by the last of last night’s wine, and then binge watching Emily in Paris for fun.

Photo by Live on Shot on

And now, time for bed. Or, given my usually 9 p.m. bedtime, way past time (it’s 1 a.m.). I hate jet lag.

Photo by Pixabay on

Now, for Day Three!

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