Thank You, Paris!

Thank you to Paris for such a wonderful and much needed break. 

I had promised my daughter Rachel, who just finished her freshman year at NYU-Tisch, a trip to Paris when she graduated high school last year.  For so many reasons, we couldn’t take the trip, but this year we headed out from Wednesday, May 25 and came back Sunday, May 29.  (Marc came too to make it all a little easier to navigate--he's been there many times.)

I now understand why people fall in love with this city.  It was so beautiful and the people were so incredibly accommodating and nice. 

We stayed at the St. James Albany Hotel on Rue de Rivoli, opposite the Tuileries Gardens.  From our balcony we could look down onto the gardens.  To our immediate left, about a city block away, was the Louvre.  To our right and out a bit was the Eiffel Tower.

I have been in love with the Eiffel Tower for years, much as a teen girl loves the idol of the month—in others words, from posters and afar.  Seeing it with my own eyes was one of the high points of my life, for reasons I can’t even explain to myself.  But when I touched it, Marc was taking the picture, Rachel was in the picture with me, and Wil was on the phone.  It was special.

Our meals were wonderful and Rachel enjoyed the fact that she could drink legally.  She also found out that about 1 glass of wine is her limit, otherwise, “Oops, it’s happening again, I’m tipsy.”

The best thing I had to eat was an amuse bouche at Jasmin in St. Germaine de Pres.  It was a gazpacho made with asparagus and cream with a few flecks of red pepper.  The best escargot were at a brasserie around the corner of the  hotel whose name escapes me.  The best meal was an amazing poulet avec morrelles and I don’t know if what accompanied the chicken was potatoes or a potatoe pasta that was out of this world. 

Our taxi driver on the way home looked like Henry Kissinger and was a sweetheart.  The hotel staff were very helpful and always very polite.

I was a little intimidated that my high school French would be offensive to the people of Paris, but the reverse was true.  They appreciated—or seemed to appreciate—the effort the 3 of us made and were gracious to speak English when we struggled and happy to play along in French when we seemed to be plodding along well enough.

There was beauty everywhere and how it evidenced the appreciation the French people have for beauty in all of its forms.  From the very ornate fountain at the Place de la Concorde to simple flower boxes, from the immaculately clean streets to the simple display windows in the stores, everywhere the eye was greeted with something pleasing.

Merci beaucoup Paris!