So we've been back from Paris for a week and my PPD (Post Paris Depression) has not gone away. In fact it's getting worse. I still have over 1300 pictures to go through and it makes me sad just looking at them. I've been asked to put together a bunch of them for a travel piece, one of the magazines K works with is doing a special section on us!
It's funny, I've traveled before, been to a bunch of different countries but no other place (except NY) has ever had such a hold over me. I've never felt such a strong urge to go back somewhere, I'm already trying to figure out a way to spend next summer there. Having a model in the family is finally going to pay off for me! Now if I can get K to learn just a small amount of French we are on our way!
We all found different things to love about Paris, D loved the history and was amazed at what each corner brought, K loved the food, OK she loved the sweets and was rarely without something to eat in her hands. I was captivated by the beauty of the city, I found it everywhere, it was in the streets, the food, the people the air. It was heart-stopping beauty everywhere I looked. There are exceptions of course, why in a city where one out of six own a dog is it not mandatory to clean up after these dogs? Ewww.
Anyway, our trip wasn't perfect, we all annoyed each other (like usual) but each new day brought something wonderful, strolling through gorgeous museums, walking though Rodin's garden, playing in perfectly maintained parks and stopping to enjoy local fare. It was all perfect in the imperfection. We didn't once hop in a cab instead we rode the Metro like locals. D (with his trusty map) navigated his way around the city like he was born there. Getting lost brought adventure and amazing photo ops. I still cannot bring myself to share my favorite pictures, I'm not ready to let go of that specialness.
We also discovered that Paris was magic, one night while dining in the strangest restaurant on the planet Le Refuge a classmate of K's walked in with her mother. Seriously what are the chances of that? Another day we were at an amazing park (I feel bad calling it a park because it was so much more) and met a great mom and her beautiful kid, they were speaking French when the boy introduced himself in English, they were American and lived in Los Angeles, the kids were even born in the same hospital. We all hung out and swapped stories vowing to get together when we were all back home. We took pictures joking about how cute they would be to show at their wedding (yes, we were joking, I'm not that kind of crazy.)
The stories go on and I'm gathering them to put in my travel blog (along with some amazing pictures). It's just taking some time. Once they go up the reality will set in that we are actually back and I'm not prepared for that yet.
The one thing I would change: Bring a flatiron, the humidity combined with the water makes for terrible hair days. No wonder all French women have perfected the bun.
Au revoir!
