Given the likelihood of you not being able to read my handwriting, here's a transcription of the page above: Woken by a sore throat sometime around 1:30 last night, and the aspirins took a while to kick in. This cold is not going easily, and the last two days diverted -- into carrying luggage & walking the city & visiting with a friend -- strength that probably should have gone straight into maintaining recovery. Ah well, I fly home tomorrow morning, and then there will be time for sleep, for cup after cup of hot lemon and ginger, for a cleansing diet -- plus a healing bundle of cuddles from some little people.
Woke again at 6 a.m. (after finally getting back to sleep about 3, via my aphabet-letter-wordlist memory trick -- the word of the night was T-R-U-C-K and I only made it to "R") Since I was awake, I checked in for my flight, got my boarding pass. Perhaps knowing all was in order let me go back to sleep until 8. So I got close to a decent number of hours, at least, and might try for a nap
For now, though . . . .
We didn't make it to a single art exhibition this visit -- uh-oh, untrue, Paul went to one in Rome with Jesse & Frankie one day while I stayed home sick -- One last chance to remedy this, but I need to keep it manageable.
A Pop Art show at Musée Maillol, very near here and I really liked the Maillol as was, would like to see it in its new iteration.
But there's also an interesting expo at the Monnaie de Paris: Women House -- a selection of work by female artists of 20th and 21st century exploring the relation of gender and space, a topic I've long been interested in. And since this museum is new to me, I think I'll start here -- off to try for online tix now and to map out my walking route. . . .
Just a few photos from what turned out to be a wonderfully stimulating exhibition, just the right size, in a gorgeous space, and only a 20-minute walk from here. The wrought-iron teapot by Joana Vasconcelos below,
ashington's National Museum of Women in the Arts for a March 9th to May 28th gig.
And now, if you'll excuse me, time to settle in with this pot of tea in the hotel sitting area. Other than packing my case tonight, and perhaps going across the street for an omelette, I'm going to take it easy. I've booked the hotel's car service for the first time -- we usually take public transit to Charles de Gaulle, and it's easy enough, even on my own, and the price is unbeatable at 10 Euros. But I've decided the comfort is worth the splurge this once. . . and at the other end of the flight, I have a lovely son-in-law picking me up at the airport. . . So all is good, and next time we speak I'll be ensconced in all the comforts of home.
So, no worries, this reader is well supplied for a ten-hour flight. But now she has to pack. . . Chat soon, okay? And you know I welcome your comments, always.