You might also have heard that my carefully planned train trip to Rome to visit my daughter's family (including a very cute little Italian Girl) was canceled due to the strike. Despair set in. Jet lag and bad news don't work well together, and I didn't sleep well at all. By morning, I'd resigned myself and I resolved to make the most of the solo time in Paris, assuming that because Air France flights were reduced as well during this National General Strike, particularly on the days of big organized marches, flying wouldn't work either. Luckily, my hotel had room for me for the extra days, and knowing I had a place to stay, I decided to get out in the sunshine and start enjoying this beautiful city.
To make a long story short (because it's almost 10:30 pm here and I've walked over 12 kilometres today and the jetlag from a nine-hour time difference doesn't disappear in two days), I came back after lunch restored by the city. Did a bit of research, both online and with the hotel staff, and I've booked a flight for the weekend. Cross your fingers for me that I can get to the airport through whatever traffic there is, that the flight goes ahead as scheduled, and after that, maybe cross them for me once more when it's time for me to get back to Paris, because that's where my return flight home leaves from. . .
For now, while I'm brushing my teeth and getting ready to fall asleep in a sweet little hotel room in Paris, perhaps you'll like to stroll some streets and gaze at some magical window dressing. . . . I have so many photos to share later as well. Just a few for now, to whet your appetite. . .
|I still remember clearly the first time Pater and I saw this sculpture, probably back in 2005. . . . I cherish the familiarity I have with some areas of the city; the memories of what has changed, as well, over the years we've been visiting.|
I crouched down to get a better shot of this one, so that you'd be able to see the doll or stuffy she carries, confirming my creepy-cute assessment. . . .
Frances. . . . from Paris