little black journal

Doing some hard drive tidying up and I realized that I have a folder of LaV+Kel Paris pictures circa October 2019 that deserve a place in the Little Black Journal archives!  This post will be light on narrative, but I always find words fall short in capturing this city’s magic, anyway…

Our apartment was my favorite yet and had the sweetest hobbit windows with a view of the Seine.

First things first…crepes!

And wine.

There’s always something magic to be found when wandering Paris at night, like this light show in an old Marais cathedral.

And a surprise parade!

Day 2 opened with cafe cremes and a stroll through the Galeries Lafayette.

Rooftop views…

And a quick pop into Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, just a few blocks away.

Lunch on the steps of the Opera Garnier.

And another quick church tour, because you can’t walk past the Eglise Madeleine and not go in.

Aimless wanderings took us to the Petit Palais.

And then a late-afternoon climb to the top of the Tour Saint-Jacques.

So many stairs, but so worth the view!

Riverfront bubbly while we rested our weary feet.

And then more strolling, with stops for an udon noodle dinner, petits choux for dessert, and a final round of vino.

Requisite nighttime stop at the Musee du Louvre!

Day 3 kicked off at Saint-Chapelle, which I haven’t been to for years and years.  As glowing as ever!

Coffee on Rue Cler.

And a picnic at the Tour Eiffel.

Seine wandering and a rest at the Tuileries.

And then we were back at the sweet the little courtyard in front of our apartment, where we sipped espresso and watched old men play bocce.

An afternoon at the immersive Van Gogh exhibit.

Drinks, dinner, sleep!

Day 4 was rainy – streets were wet, cafes were quiet.

I walked through the misty gardens at the Musee Rodin and then took refuge indoors.

LaV and I had lunch at a Marais cafe before hitting our favorite neighborhood shops.

And then had pre-dinner appetizers (patisserie-style) at the apartment.

Rain cleared in the evening and we had the prettiest twilight walk through the 6th.

Drinks on Rue Saint-Andres des Arts.

And french onion soup / steak frites at our “usual table” at Boucherie Rouliere!

We always consider for a split second taking the Metro back to the apartment, but then muster the energy to walk.  We never regret it.

I was up early on our final morning for a sunrise walk through the city, so that I had ample time to say adieu…

LaV and I met up at Saint-Sulpice to perch on those iconic wooden chairs for a few minutes and soak in the sacredness of the dimly lit church.  I murmured a little prayer of gratitude – this city fills me with wonder each and every time like no other place I’ve ever known.

And that was a wrap…  Paris, I don’t know when we’ll meet again, but I’m waiting with bated breath.

We laced up our sneakers and set out for a full day of city-soaking.  We started in Montmartre on Rue des Martyrs, on a mission for the neighborhood’s best croissants.  We found them at Farine & O, which was hands-down Lav’s and my favorite boulangerie of the several we visited.  Buttery and puffy and flaky and buttery.  And gosh, so buttery!

The streets of Montmartre hold such a beautiful mix of bright (or dark) murals and renegade wall art.

And then, you round a corner and find yourself on a rue lined with pristinely Parisian buildings.

Oh, to be the child that sits on the back of this bike and cruises around Paris with mom or dad.  LUCKY.

We followed the crowds to Sacre Couer and hung out for a moment on the jam-packed terrace overlooking the city.

And then made our descent, in search of lunch and a quiet place to sit.

We Metro-ed back toward Ile de la Cite, grabbed a couple of savory crepes with a couple of cups of vin chaud, and sat on a bench near Notre Dame to savor the good life.

We wandered through the Mémorial des Martyrs de la Déportation, a monument built in honor of the 200,000 French people that were deported to Nazi concentration camps during World War II.

Our feet started to feel their usual wear in mid-afternoon, so we headed back toward the apartment.  We passed this kid-filled plaza on the way and paused for minute to watch them play – I missed Juliette somethin’ fierce.

And so we stopped at Pierre Herme and loaded up on macarons for the little ones.  Mama’s coming home with treats, Jules!

We spent awhile at our sunny abode, snacking on the assortment of goodies we’d collected over the previous couple of days.  I challenge you to find a window better than this one!

This balcony was our happy place.

Lav and I split up for a bit to do some shopping in the Marais and then reconvened to head south and stroll the streets of St. Germain.

Our miles and miles of walking hit me like bag of bricks on Saturday afternoon, so we actually spent more time sitting than strolling – suddenly, I was beat.  But still, there are sights to be seen from a cafe terrace!

…or a quaint Brasserie!

We dined at Boucherie Rouliere that night, wanting to close out our trip with the French staples of onion soup and steak frites.  We came here last year as well and have declared it an official must-visit anytime we’re in Paris – the space is happy and bustling, the service is friendly, and the soup is extra-cheesy.

We took the circuitous route home, reveling in the joy of a packed terraces, bright lights, and a sidewalk quartet.

We rounded out the night with crepes from La Droguerie in the Marais.  NUTELLLLLLLA!

We happily discovered on Sunday morning that daylight savings had ended during the night, so we found ourselves with an extra hour before we had to head to the airport.  I set out with my camera before the sun had fully come up, wanting to enjoy a few quiet moments with the city.  My dear, dear city.

I thought about turning around at the Pompidou, but checked my watch and decided to just keep on trekking.

The Tuilieries was nearly deserted, leaving me free to snap endless photos of those quintessential green chairs.  I love those green chairs.

This was the point at which I decided I better book it back to the Marais.  Sights seen.

I met up with La Verne for one last croissant and coffee before heading back to the apartment to finish packing up.

And then it was time to squeeze back into that tiny elevator and bump our suitcases along the sidewalks to the RER.  Don’t let Lav’s friendly smile fool you – we were crying on the inside as we said goodbye to our sweet little street…

It was a long day of travel back to Seattle – we toasted to La Verne’s birthday with glasses of in-flight Prosecco somewhere over the Atlantic and watched three or four movies.  I was feeling some pretty serious post-Paris blues, but the moment Juliette’s and Shane’s faces came into view at the top of the airport escalator, all felt right again.  Paris will always be there, ready to welcome us back the next time those $500 flights show up in my inbox.  And it will be as magical as ever.

We were tempted to sleep in on on our kid-free vacation, but Paris is not a city for catching up on your Z’s.  Paris is a city for early-morning strolls to the Place des Vosges!

Lav and I knew we’d only have time for one museum during our visit, so we settled on the Pompidou for our art fix.  We grabbed a couple of croissants and coffees on Rue Montorguiel and then hopped in line to beat the crowds.

This place!  I had an annual pass to the Pompidou during my year abroad and would pop in every couple of weeks to visit Dubuffet and Matisse and Kandinsky.  This place is where I learned to love art.

GIACOMETTI.  I missed him.

Our energy waned a couple of hours into our visit, so we took a rest under a web of earbuds.   Quite serene, actually!

We grabbed lunch back in the Marais, and my warm Chevre-topped salad and glass of white wine left me ready to jam again.  Off we went to the Promenade Plantee!

This elevated walking path near Bastille offers up-high views of Parisian streets and then dips down to a series of tunnels and woods.  Much of the trail was new to me – it was fun to turn over a new French stone.

We hung out at the apartment for a bit before dinner and then struck back out for dinner at Le Rigmarole.  First though, a quick stop at Carette for salted caramel macarons.

And a quick stop at this little shop for earrings.  Being able to pop into any little store on any little whim felt like such a luxury.

We reveled in our two-hour, eight-course meal and then caught the Metro to Trocadero.  And…there she is!

Not a bad place to end the day.  Not bad at all.

I’d read about a light show happening that evening at Notre Dame, so we wandered that way and found ourselves a little perch on a stretch of bridge to take in the action.  This old Dame really rolled out the welcome wagon for us!

We strolled back toward the Marais once the church went dark, stopping to gaze upon the glittery Seine…

and then grabbed a gelato and wandered a bit more, warding off our jet lag with that irresistible Paris buzz.

It felt so, so, so good to be back.

We were up at a respectably early hour on Thursday, ready to tick off the sights on our clipboard of fun.  The city was beckoning!

First, though, coffee and croissants.

We hopped on the Metro and headed toward Rue Monge, stopping briefly at a beautifully well-curated kids store for gifts for the littles.

We grabbed a couple of sandwiches and tarts from a sidewalk vendor and trekked toward Jardin du Luxembourg.

We walked by Eglise Saint-Etienne-du-Mont on the way and popped in.  On a whim.  PARIS.  So much magic around every corner.

We eventually landed at Luxembourg, staked our claim at a couple of green chairs, and settled in to watch the kids with their sailboats while we happily carbo-loaded.

Fall seemed to be breathing one of its last, glorious gasps while we were there.

We wanted to catch the afternoon tour at the top of the Pantheon, so we walked back that way after lunch, again doing a quick church loop on our way.  Saint-Sulpice was such a dark and lovely contrast to Saint-Etienne-du-Mont.

And then, the Pantheon.  I had been inside this place several times but had never made my way to the top – bring on the stairs!

The first upstairs vantage point overlooked the patterned floor below…

And then we climbed some more, finally arriving at the outdoor balcony.  Hello, Eiffel!

I love Paris from up high – the city’s rooftops are just so distinctly…Parisian.

We made our descent and then did another quick-and-lovely driveby, this time at the Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve across the street.  Can you imagine doing your homework in here?

By this point we’d logged six or seven miles on our Nikes.  I needed a cold beer.

And an espresso.

Once we’d recharged, we walked toward the Seine, stopping at Shakespeare and Co., the flower market, and Pont Notre Dame along the way.

We kicked back at the apartment for awhile before dinner, munching on the perfect little honey-laced birds’ nests we’d picked up at Maison Aleph.  When La Verne asked the man at the counter what the nests were made of, he replied in all seriousness, “the hair of angels”.  I don’t doubt it.

We weren’t able to snag a table at the little cafe we’d been eyeing for dinner, so instead we settled on the best fallafel ever from L’As du Fallafel.  I ate a lot of these sandwiches during my year in Paris.  They are just as good as I remember them.

We ate at the plaza at Hotel de Ville, harissa running down our fingers, and then wiped our hands and walked west to the Louvre.  I know I use the word “magic” a lot in these Paris posts, but I mean…TA-DAAAA!

Lav and I both ranked this evening as one of the biggest highlights of our trip.  We were two of only a handful of people in the courtyard that night – the quiet air and the glowing moon and the brilliant lights were all so…enchanting (thanks, thesaurus!).

We closed out our eleven-mile walking tour with a drink at a neighborhood bar, leaning into that very happy, very tired feeling that comes with a day of sightseeing and a glass of Cotes du Rhone.  Bonne nuit, mes amis.

Shane and Jack headed out early on Sunday morning for their scheduled zipline tour through the jungle while LaV and I opted for a quieter sort of adventure, heading over to the beach with the kiddos for a day of playing in the ocean and sand.  First, though, breakfast, where Juliette gazed upon her coconut muffin with total adoration.

We staked out a couple of comfy chaise lounges at the beach and sat back while N and Juliette happily scooped and shoveled, collecting little bits of shell and rock which Juliette pretended to feed to the “baby” she had created from a mound of wet sand.  Jules would join me under my umbrella every few minutes, seeking a shady refuge as the sun blazed hotter and hotter, but she couldn’t ever bear to stay put for more than a couple of minutes.  While the sun and the surf and the fruity drinks left me feeling laid-back and lazy, this kid was totally energized by it all.

Swimsuit, sunglasses, and a hat is hands-down my very favorite look on her…

And…she’s in.

Juliette would declare victory every time a wave crashed over her belly and she managed to stay on her feet.

Bring it on, sea!

The kids “baked” a special cake for La Verne and then sang Happy Birthday to her, insisting afterwards that we each take a bite.

In the late afternoons, the day’s fun-fest would catch up with Juliette and she’d succumb to the waves of sleepiness that lapped at her eyelids.  Sleepy-time is one of the very few chances I get to snuggle with my girl-on-the-go anymore.  I’ll take it.

We sun-setted at the beach once again on Sunday, this time seeing more grays and blues than oranges and pinks in the closed-in sky, but still, it was peaceful and lovely and we all got in the ocean for a salt water dip.  Any day that begins and ends at the beach is a good one.

Since the guys had given the zipline tour rave reviews and since we each had an “excursion” included with our resort package, La Verne and I channeled our inner daredevils and made our own trip out to the jungle on Monday morning.  It was an hour-long ride through small Mexican towns and up along remote mountain roads to the Canopy River outpost, where we were each strapped into a harness, handed a pulley, and told to fly like the wind.  And wowsers, we flew, zipping along the course at heights of 200 feet and speeds of 55 kilometers an hour.  Our guides were silly and fun-loving, but reassuring and encouraging as they sent us from one platform to the next.  La Verne and I toasted to our bravery with a couple of cold beers at the beautiful patio when it was all over, dizzy with pride and the sweet relief that comes with being on solid ground.

We rejoined our crew back at the beach, where we lunched on fish tacos and squeezed in a few minutes of ocean play before herding the kids back to the room for some quiet time.  Juliette’s freckles were a bit darker than when I’d kissed her goodbye few hours earlier!

The rest of the day was another haze of swimming and sunsets and mango tangos.  I had wondered if by our fourth day at the resort I’d be a little antsy, wanting to get out with Shane and Juliette and do the exploring and sight-seeing that’s such a big part of our typical vacations, but…NOPE.  The days of bouncing from pool to beach to pool to beach were just so blissfully easy, and it was abundantly clear that Juliette was perfectly content to swim that same stretch of pool and run that same stretch of beach over and over and over.

THIS IS THE LIFE, huh, kiddo?  (Don’t get too used to it, Jules!  Vacations will include sleeping on the ground and fetching our own water come summer.)

Juliette played an endless game of fetch with the ocean, tossing a stick into the waves and retrieving it from the time and again.

We put the kids to bed early on Monday night and settled on a room service dinner – the food was the one thing that had started to feel a bit “tired” at this point, but we got to eat in our pajamas and Cards Against Humanity made for some pretty enthusiastic bouts of laughter.

Tuesday was departure day, but our flight had been pushed back to the evening, which meant:  bonus beach time!  After chilaquiles and cappuccinos, we set up camp at the beach, happily resigned to flying home with a little sand in our hair.

Shane spotted a couple of iguanas near the pool and called the kids over to take a look.  They thought it was funny to see these two “hugging”.

We were told that our all-inclusive experience would end at 2:00, so Shane and Jack put in their request for one last round of gin and tonics at 1:55.

And then Juliette and I took one last dip in the pool.

…and then it was time to peel off our swimsuits and put on real clothes for the first time in five days.  NOOOOOOO!!!

You can see that none of us were quite ready to say adios.

It was a long trek home with multiple flight delays and we rolled up to our front door after midnight sleepy and stiff, but fully-dosed with Vitamin D.  And tequila.  Mission accomplished.

2017 has been pretty epic for us, vacation-wise.  We didn’t really set out to go quite so big this year, but gosh, when your brother asks if you want to join him and the family for a few days at a lovely house on the Hood Canal, or when flights to Paris drop to $500, or when your friends scout a deal at a beautiful all-inclusive Mexican resort, you seize the day.

So then, HOLA, MEXICO!

Our flight landed in Puerto Vallarta last Thursday evening and we wound our way through the hoards of eager cabbies to the friendly shuttle driver that awaited us curbside.  It was a quick drive to the resort, where we were ushered into the sparkling lobby and handed a round of margaritas before we’d even checked in.  This all-inclusive thing was looking promising!

We ate dinner at the rooftop bar and then headed back to the room to get settled and tuck in the kids.  Juliette begged to take a dip in the pool that adjoined our back patio and I told her she could put her feet in the water for a minute while I unpacked a few things.  She stripped off her clothes and grabbed her swimsuit as I was rooting around for her pajamas – I protested for all of thirty seconds and then shrugged my shoulders in happy surrender.  We were on vacation!  It was 9 pm, but it was 80 degrees outside!  Go nuts, kiddo.  

And then…this.  (Funny how a four-year-old can occupy an entire King bed!)

We rolled out of bed to discover a beautiful breakfast buffet set up just steps from our back patio, so we headed down to pile up our plates and dine pool-side.

This celery-cactus-pineapple concoction became a morning staple (and Juliette’s daily dose of veggies).

Shane headed out for a morning bike tour after breakfast while Juliette and I hung back and laid low.

I got out for a jog along the beach before lunch, thrilled to discover that our resort sat on a miles-long stretch of wide open shore.

And then, having all gotten our exercise, there was nothing left to do but…lounge.

And drink.

And swim.

We wrapped ourselves in our towels around 4 pm and walked over to the beach to catch the sunset and feel the squish of sand between our toes.

Shane and Juliette assumed their typical beach stance, hands held while the waves broke at their feet.

Juliette was delighted to discover how much warmer the ocean water is down in Mexico.

There was a lovely pool perched just over the beach, so we took a quick dip to compare pool temp with ocean temp.

And then the skies got golden and the clouds got all purply-blue so we jetted back down the shore.  Juliette met up with a couple of girls that she had befriended at the pool earlier that day and chased the tide with them, running and splashing and giggling, adding a whole other layer of glow to the magic occurring on the horizon.

MEXICO!  You are so, so bueno.

We went back to the room to change out of our swimsuits and check on poor Nico, who had come down a terrible cold the day before.  Shane, Juliette and I ate dinner at the beach club and took our time meandering back to our room, reveling in the warm breeze and the glittery lights and the absence of any reason to hurry.  This. was. vacation.

La Verne and I kicked off Saturday with a beach jog, in preparation for a full day of all-inclusive gluttony.

Breakfast was chilaquiles and pancakes and mimosas and some of the sweetest, juiciest pineapple I’ve ever tasted.

Thankfully, N was on the mend and ready to romp, so all hopped in the pool after breakfast.

We spent much of the morning in the oversized hot tub, tucked into an idyllic little enclave off the main pool.

“Mango Tangos”:  the beverage of champions!

Juliette was a total fish, paddling up and down the pool in her little purple floaties.

We lunched pool-side, luring the kids out of the water with plates of burgers and fries.

And then, more swimming!  This girl was insatiable.

We all dozed in the afternoon and then strolled over to the beach for another sunset show.

I tell you, this Mexican tide was magnetic.

Gah!  She was just SO HAPPY.  It was just SO GOOD.

Juliette’s new buddy appeared on the scene just as we were heading for our lounge chairs, so Juliette about-faced and was back at it again, chasing waves and being chased.

I keep trying to put words to just how magical this particular sunset was, but I’m coming up short.  So I’m just gonna let these pictures speak for themselves…

Once the last hues of orange had faded to gray, we all walked back toward the lobby to watch the 7 pm tree lighting.  It felt a little strange, listening to a guy in a Santa hat belt out Jingle Bells while we sat around in tank tops and sipped champagne, but we rolled with it, certainly feeling merry through it all.

Each of the kids got to light a candle (flip a switch) for the lilies floating in the lobby fountain.  Juliette took great pride in her task, smiling shyly and placing her light just so when the MC called her name.

We cleaned up a bit and then walked back over the beach club for fajitas and cocktails and ice cream.

La Verne and I were on our way out with the kids when we turned around to find that the guys were missing.  This is where we found them (this bar serves cocktails to go!).

By the end of the day, we’d lost count of how many pools we’d swam in or how many margaritas we’d drank.  We only knew that we had lived large and laughed hard.

Up next: more swimming, more sand, and a little adventure!

Sunday was our last full day in Paris and the agenda was simple: art, eat, walk, eat.  And maybe drink something bubbly somewhere in between…

La Verne and I had decided to bypass our favorite museums on this trip, as we didn’t want to spend our precious time in the city standing in line, but it hardly felt right to visit Paris without seeing some sort of art , so we settled on checking out the big Christian Dior exhibition at the Musee des Arts.  We had heard the show was huge and amazing and we asked ourselves, “When are we ever going to have another chance like this?”.

Once we made it through the line and past the masses crowded into the first couple of rooms, I was totally swept up in the detail and creativity and evolution of the fashion on display –  some of these dresses are total masterpieces.

I could almost feel the boundaries being pushed, each decade’s norms being broken.

We left the museum hungry and in need of fresh air, so we walked the couple of blocks to Le Fumoir for a terrace lunch.  Our healthy, crisp salads were followed by a couple of steaming mugs of ultra-thick chocolat chaud.  It’s the dessert of champions.

We decided to spend our final afternoon in Paris wandering through gardens and along the river, savoring the flowers and the fountains and the waterfront paths that are so good on an October afternoon.  We started at the courtyard of the Palais Royale and then strolled through its meticulously manicured garden.

From there, we sauntered west through the courtyard of the Louvre into the Jardin des Tuileries, which seems to stretch on forever with its golden trees and bright flowers and crowds of lounging Parisians in those lovely painted green chairs.

We crossed the Seine at Pont de la Concorde, pausing for a final look at the Tour Eiffel.  So long, old friend…

And then we walked and walked and walked, past the Musee d’Orsay and the Institut de France and one big beautiful building after another.

At Notre Dame we crossed the river back into our ‘hood, where we grabbed a couple of beautiful eclairs and a bottle of champagne for a happy hour snack.  We ate and drank our treats back at our apartment – with windows like these, it was as ideal a place as any to toast to our last night in Paris!

It looks like La V is about to chow down on a mustard-covered hot dog, but that’s actually a passionfruit eclair sprinkled with freeze-dried raspberries!  And it was AMAZING.

Once the champagne had run dry and we’d licked the last of the passionfruit icing off our fingers, we headed out for dinner.  First though, a stop at Pierre Herme for macarons.  For the kiddos, of course.

We were craving a quintessentially French meal and found it at Boucherie Rouliere in Saint-Germain-des-Pres.  A Kir aperitif, French onion soup, steak frites, wine…  Ohhhh.  La.  La.

We rolled out of the restaurant buzzed on wine and beef and walked a little around Saint-Germain before heading back to our apartment.  Gosh, I was going to miss being out after dark, breezing by dramatic centuries-old cathedrals and brightly lit cobblestoned alleys and the glittering river Seine.  Truly, there’s no place like Paris at night.

I fell asleep with the curtains wide open, wanting to relish every last minute with this view.

La Verne and I rallied hard to pull ourselves out of bed early-ish on Monday, so that we could enjoy a couple of hours out in the city before heading to the airport in the late morning.  We walked past Bastille and down rue Cremieux, hailed as “Paris’ Notting Hill”.

One final cafe creme…

And then a quick loop past some of the greatest hits.

I knew I needed to get back to the apartment and prepare for takeoff, but I couldn’t resist one more trip across the Seine to Ile Saint-Louis.  I popped into Eglise Saint-Louis-en-l’Ile and sat for just a moment in one of those chairs, saying a prayer of gratitude for the wonders of the previous few days.

And then, it was go-time.  Farewell, sweet Paris.  Farewell, windows of my dreams.

I sighed a few sad sighs as we headed to the airport, but once we were up in the air, I couldn’t wait to get back to Seattle and wrap my arms around Shane and Juliette.  I needed a hug.  And the minute I got off that Sea-Tac escalator, I was greeted with the warmest of welcomes.  Paris has Notre Dame, but Seattle has this kid.  Seattle wins!

That Monday happened to be my 36th birthday.  I woke up in my favorite place in the world and ended my day at home with my favorite two people in the world.  Happy Birthday to me.

I got up a bit earlier than La V on Saturday morning and slipped out for a couple of solo hours in the neighborhood.  Golly, I could get used to waking up to this view…

The Marais was so uncharacteristically mellow at 9 am – shops were closed, terrace tables were empty, there was no sound of French chatter or clinking coffee cups.  Walking these quiet streets was a perfect way to ease into the day.

Yesterday’s 12-mike trek and series of leisurely detours had reassured me that Paris was better done without a four-year-old in tow, but when I saw this mom strolling down the street with her darling pea-coated daughter, I missed my girl somethin’ fierce.  Someday, Jules, we will take on this city together.

My beloved Pompidou!  This museum is where I met Giacometti and Dubuffet and Yves Klein – I bought an annual pass to the museum during my year abroad and would pop in every couple of weeks to check in on my favorites.  La Verne and I decided to pass on going in this time around due to the long wait times, but still, it felt good just to experience the place for a moment from the outside.

My walk took me past Saint-Eustache and since I was free to choose my own adventure, I went in and spent a few minutes wandering its hallowed halls.

Someone was playing the organ while I was there, and while I’d much prefer a nice quiet acoustic guitar, there’s no denying the sheer magnificence of this instrument.

From the cathedral, I walked a block over to Rue Montorgueil and browsed the markets and boulangeries and cafes.  I bought a buttery, crispy Kouign-Amann and munched on it as I took in all the colors and smells and sounds of the city as it came to life at 10 am.  This is Paris…

It felt like every street I walked down was even more perfect than the one before it.

I was only a couple of blocks from my old apartment, so I briefly zipped down Rue Notre-Dame de Nazareth to take a look at my old stomping grounds.  It’s still lovely.

La Verne and I rendezvous’ed at a cafe and sipped a couple of cafe cremes while solidifying our plans for the day.  It was pretty straight-forward, really:  shop, eat, walk, eat, walk!

We spent much of the day in the Marais, strolling through the Marche des Enfants Rouges and then popping into several boutiques in search of the perfect trinkets to bring home for our kiddos (and ourselves).

We each bought a box of precious chocolates Jacques Genin, which felt more like a jewelry store than a chocolate shop, with its glass cases of gilded goodies.

I mean, these are almost too pretty to eat!

Satisfied with our purchases, we lunched at Bar du Marche, toasting to a very productive afternoon.

We grabbed a little shut-eye back at the apartment and then set out for an evening in Montmartre.  We had 8 pm dinner reservations and spent the couple of hours prior to that wandering the neighborhood’s hilly, winding streets.

We ended up at Sacre Couer and went inside for a quick loop.

When we came out, the sky had turned dusky and lights had begun to glimmer across the city.

We sat on the steps over-looking the city for a few minutes and then moved farther down when we saw the huge crowds gathered around a man playing his guitar.

Next thing we knew, we were singing along with hundreds of other people to a cover of Oasis’ Wonderwall as nighttime set upon Paris.  It was weird and silly and completely touristy, but in that moment, pretty extraordinary.

Since we’d been waylaid by Mr. Magical Guitar-Man, we had to book it to make it to our dinner reservation and zipped through Montmartre to land at ASPIC by 8 pm.

La Verne had found this little tucked-away gem of a restaurant online and booked this as our one “fancy” meal, though the vibe was actually cozy and casual, and the seven-course menu was really reasonably priced.  The food was beautiful and fresh and surprising, and in between courses La Verne and I got swept up in one of the most honest conversations we’ve had in years.  We laughed, we cried, we ate, we drank.  It was a meal to remember, in so many ways.

We caught the Metro after dinner and hopped off a couple of stops west of our apartment so that we could do a little sight-seeing on the way home.

THIS PLACE!  The Louvre at night is magnificent.

We walked further down Rivoli and milled about for a few minutes with the crowds that had gathered at Hotel de Ville to clebrate Nuit Blanche.

Eventually our feet could carry us no farther and we wearily climbed the two flights of stairs to our apartment.  My perfect evening ended perfectly in a happy chat with Juliette, who apparently was having a fabulous time with her dad in my absence.  It felt so good to see Juliette (and Shane) smile, to know that they were up to their own sorts of fun shenanigans, biking across Vashon Island and decorating pumpkins with friends.  This Parisian ladies trip had felt a bit crazy when I first proposed it, but gosh, it was working out splendidly!

Friday morning in Paris was crisp and sunny – perfect weather for trekking across the city in search of the perfect pain au chocolat.  Our mission took us through Bastille to the charming  storefront of Boulangerie Bo, where we ordered up a pain au chocolat, a raspberry croissant, and a beautiful lemon tart.

In the name of research, we carried our goodies the few blocks to Ble Sucre, where we asked for a plain croissant and a kouign amann and taste-tested our treats at a little table out front.  The standout was Ble Sucre’s plain croissant, which validated our initial hypothesis that more butter = more better.

After downing all those pastries we felt compelled to get some steps in, so we opted to walk rather than Metro to Jardin des Plantes.  I have the fondest memories of visiting this place in the spring, when poppies dot the pathways with red and orange – turns out it’s just as beautiful in October, when sunflowers and dahlias shine in all their early-autumn glory.

We spent a few minutes wandering through the steamy greenhouses…

And then popped back out ready to hit the streets again!  Off we went to Place Monge to wander the stalls and pick up a market lunch.

Armed with bread, cheese, meat, and fruit, we made our way toward Jardin du Luxembourg, weaving our way through some of Paris’ quaintest streets.

And then found a couple of sunny seats at Luxembourg where we could catch some rays and spread out our feast.

When in Paris…!

My chunk of baguette smeared with salty, stinky cheese perfectly hit the spot.  La Verne was pretty enamored with her ripe, jammy fig.

I’ve spent quite a few hours in these green chairs over the years.  I love these chairs.

Autumn in Paris for the win!

We left the park and walked toward the Metro, happening upon Saint-Sulpice on our way.  So we popped in, because WHEN IN PARIS…

We left the church in search of coffee and a sunny cafe terrace but again were sidetracked, this time by a couple of chocolate shops and this little alley.  Really, our few days in Paris were one lovely detour after another…

Eventually, though, the need for a caffeine kick drove us to Cafe Mabillon, where we settled in with a couple of cafe cremes.

The forecast told us that Friday would be our sunniest day in Paris and we couldn’t bear to let that perfect Fall weather go to waste, so we boarded the Metro and headed north to Pere Lachaise for a cobble-stoned stroll, despite the fact that our Nikes had already logged about eight miles by this point.  Some things are just worth pressing on for.  Pere Lachaise is one of them.

This cemetery ranks in my top-three Parisian places, and it was in particularly fine form that day, golden and green and serene.

I mean, WOWSERS!

We spent a couple of hours chilling out back at the apartment in the evening but then figured, “why not rest our feet someplace scenic?”.  Like on a boat!  On the Seine!

We caught the last cruise of the day, which began near Notre Dame and floated west toward the Eiffel Tower.  We heard jazz music in the distance and spotted this crowd of dancers practicing their moves.

Then it was one beautiful bridge after another…

And another…

There she is!  As lovely and lacy as ever.

The full moon shone extra-bright that night, making the Seine extra-sparkly.

Post-cruise, we warmed ourselves with galettes and cider at Cafe Briezh.

I loved these nighttime walks through the Marais back to our apartment, making me feel as if we were ending the day on the highest of notes.

Looking back over these pictures, I can’t believe all that we packed into a single day.  So much beauty!  So many steps!  (And so many carbs!)  That’s the Paris buzz, though – you forget your fatigue in the midst of so much magic.  This city is enchanting.

Oh, Paris. Paris. PARIS. Let’s talk for a minute about Paris.

Paris is where I fell in love with art and cafés and with pointy toed shoes.  It’s where I learned that I can do hard things, like set up a back account and a phone line and a student visa, all in a language I barely understood at the time.  It’s where I gained so much of the confidence and independence and wanderlust that I still carry with me today.  And gosh, I’ve missed the hell out of that city since the moment my year abroad ended in 2004.  Shane and I went back for a few days in 2009, and then a few more in 2011, but it’s been six years since I’ve walked the Pere-Lachaise’s cobblestone streets, spoken any French, sipped a tiny espresso on a Marais cafe terrace.  I was due for a romp through the City of Lights.  That place was beckoning to me.

Was Jules ready to come along, though?  Probably not…I mean, I have big dreams of roaming the streets of my favorite place with my favorite girl, but the full-day journey and all the walking that an urban trip like this entails just doesn’t feel like her style at this point in time.  We’ll stick to beaches and mountains for a couple more years.

Cue La Verne, who took all of 7 seconds to respond with an emphatic OUI! when I asked her if she’d be up for a Parisian getaway. She booked our flights, I found us a sweet little apartment in the Marais, and then there was nothing left to do but kiss our babies and their good-hearted dads goodbye.  Oh, the goodbyes…the goodbyes were hard.  But we soon got over it.

We left SEA on Wednesday, landed at CDG on Thursday, snaked our way into Paris via RER and Metro and then, like magic, popped out of the stuffy underground into my beloved, bustling, beautiful city.  I was hungry and exhausted and a little foggy-eyed, but the sight of those old stone buildings and the wrought iron railings and the gray zinc roofs breathed so much life into me.  WE WERE IN PARIS!

We walked the few steps to our apartment’s front door and were greeted by our gracious host, who gave us the spiel, handed us our keys, and left us to squeal in delight over our lovely abode. These windows are the stuff of dreams.

We dropped our bags, slapped on a fresh coat of makeup, and headed back out in search of food and drink. We were only a few blocks from my favorite Marais cafe and snagged the last open terrace table at Les Philosophes.  Red wine, chèvre-topped salad, the sound of French being spoken, and the company of a dear friend. I was in my happy place.

Sufficiently wined and dined, we spent the next couple of hours wandering around the Marais, peering into the windows of boutiques and boulangeries. We walked down rue des Rosiers and through the Place des Vosges.  It all felt so wonderfully familiar to me, but was no less magical than the very first time I laid eyes on this place.

We popped back into the apartment for a quick pit-stop and a peek out those lovely windows…

But the night was still young and we were still buzzing with Paris vibes, so we headed back out and walked the few blocks to the Seine.

We wandered around Ile Saint-Louis and Ile de la Cite and saw Notre Dame and the Conciergerie and the Pont Neuf, because that’s what happens in Paris – you head out for a walk and suddenly it’s like you’ve fallen inside the pages of a travel magazine.

I mean, how is this even real?

Once the sun set, jet lag began to tug at our eyelids, so we sauntered past the Hotel de Ville (!!!) and then back to our apartment, where we started talking about the next day’s agenda and suddenly were all amped up again.  WE WERE IN PARIS!

Finally, though, we called it a night and got our much-needed rest.  Bonne nuit.