Wednesday - and Home

Today is Wednesday.  The past two days have been a blur.  I can't believe I'm sitting in Gare du Nord, waiting for my train back to London. Paris has been wonderful - exactly the kind of trip I was hoping for, with no hiccups, no drama, just a lovely week and a bit away from home and work.




On Monday I went coocoo for coco puffs on Rue Rennes, the local shoe district. Tons of shops, all in a row, selling shoes shoes shoes.  I bought 4 pair.  4 really good pair that I'll wear for years, so I don't feel bad. (Like I would feel bad anyway)  I felt intense satisfaction as I made my way back to my hotel with multiple shopping bags in tow.  As I reentered the hotel, I was informed that the extra night I was hoping to add to my stay wasn't possible, that I'd have to find another hotel.  Oy.  SO I plunked my purchases on the bed in my room and used Blackberry Travel (very handy BB app, for anyone out there who hasn't abandoned BB yet) to find another room.  I splurged a bot and found d decent room, but in the 9th arr. this time, a little closer to the action and on the other side of Montmartre, in Pigalle.


Pigalle is full of sex shops, peep shows and music stores, with a dash of everything else thrown in.  I was meeting Loic for my last night in town - we were going to Charlot on a friend's recommendation.


I checked into the new room and was pleased. It was close to three times the size of my other room and had a charming view of Sacre Coeur up the hill and a sweeping view of the city looking south. I was on the top floor, and the gables windows were arched and seemed oh-so-very French.  I would have given my limb for a bath but alas, a shower only, again.  My feet were screaming for a good soak, but they had to settle for a hot towel and cozy socks.


This hotel had free WIFI, as well a full range of TV stations, so I relaxed for a few hours, dozing in and out, watching Friends, in English, which was novel, and Poirot in French, which was challenging.  


I headed out to meet Loic at 7:15, taking the Metro two wee stops up the line to Place de Clichy.  Charlot has been around forever, is known for it's shellfish platters, and is the swankiest restaurant I went to in Paris, save for the Ritz, of course.  It's a traditional brasserie, so not too formal, but certainly more refined than a cafe.  Loic was in jeans and a sweater and complained that I should have told him to dress up.  Whatever.  We were seated, ordered wine and a Roi de Coquillages pour deux.  


Sweet mother of god, the platter was huge, with crab, langoustines, clams, oysters, sea snails, another size of crab, baby shrimp and god knows what else.  A bottle of Chablis and we were set.  Now, I can usually make my way through a seafood dinner with decent manners, but the shells on this shellfish were tough.  Also, they didn't separate the oysters from the shell when they shucked them so you had to wriggle them around on your own.  I, of course, discovered this trying to suck one oyster off its shell, which didn't sound or look too hot. The mignonette was extremely acidic and made me cough.  Thankfully Loic was cursing at snails not coming out their shells.  I cracked open a crab claw and sprayed the mirror beside me.  We couldn't stop laughing, and I was grateful to be hidden in a corner, with only tourist tables surrounding us.  No one cared.


We got through most of the food.  It was a leisurely meal, as getting the meat out of the shells was work.  We paid and left, choosing to wander up Rue Pigalle to see what was what.  We passed Moulin Rouge and all the cheesy sex shops (which are identical to the ones at home, just bigger and more of them).  


We were passing by a bar with a piano being played and someone butchering Frank Sinatra.  We had to go in.  A carafe of wine was ordered and we sat and watched (I sang along) to most of the My Fair Lady songbook, and classic Frank Sinatra tunes you'd expect to hear away from home (NY/NY, Chicago, Summerwind). The singer was also a bit of a tap dancer, so we'd get the occasional tap intermezzo during a number.  The place was moderately busy.  A large group of Irish tourists were singing along, occasionally sharing the mic with Dude.  Our wine finished, we parted ways with a hug and the traditional kiss-kiss.  I was only 2 blocks from my hotel and was happy to settle into bed and zonk out.  I wanted to get up in decent time to have breakfast and get some last minute shopping done.


I ate and checked out of the hotel, leaving my luggage behind for later.  The hotel was relatively close to Gare du Nord, and my suitcase had increased in weight significantly enough that I was happy to pay for a cab.  Dealing with it on the Metro would not be fun.  So, I made sure I had enough cash for cab fare on my way back, and waited in the lobby for my taxi to arrive.  


I'm very very early for my train.  I can't check in yet - that's how early I am.  I didn't want to spend anymore money, so I figured I'd get to the train and hang here, finish writing and get into my book again.  And so I leave Paris.  I have to say I'm looking forward to getting home, but know that I only scratched the surface of the city.  Every street you pass has a whole other adventure around here.  I look forward to coming back soon and digging in deeper.


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This was my last post in Paris.  I arrived in London, found my hotel and went to bed, wanting an early start to the airport the next morning.  I arrived at Gatwick after a lovely express trip on the train, and paid an astronomical fee for my luggage being overweight.  (SHOES!)  I didn't sleep much on the way home.  We were chasing the sun and it made for weird body-clocking.  


I was excited to get home.  I wanted to be home.  I wanted to be in my apartment, to wander Gastown and see my lovelies.  I wanted to sink into my barstool at Boneta, embrace my friends and laugh at nothing with a cocktail in my hand.  I wanted the rain, the leaves.  I wanted the phone calls from work, the stress, the hubbub.  I wanted Vancouver in all its young, imperfect glory.  I was ready to be back, and that readiness in itself was its own kind of happiness.


The sun was shining when I landed, but you could still smell that it had just rained.  I took a deep breath as I walked outside to meet Mylene.  


Home.