Well, what an adventure I've been on. Since I last wrote to you, I've gone from being stranded by snow to navigating a fiery dystopian hellscape. But I tell you, to an author, it's all grist for the mill. Expect my experiences to be featured in a story or two now or in the future.
Today I have photos, offers, and reminders.
But first, the snow before I left. The UK got blanketed with snow a couple of days prior to my trip. Track to the farm got dodgy, so I left the village early and decamped into town to await my son's arrival and our trip on the Eurostar train to Paris.
The train journey navigated successfully, we headed to the Eiffel Tower . . . At least it was sunny.
Shortly after seeing the tower, we were forced (forced, I tell you) to consume chocolate in a variety of forms courtesy of the cafe at the Paris Lindt store. The store was quite something; the Easter eggs were huge! This is a chocolat chaud Viennese (hot chocolate thickened with egg yolk,) and a profiterole: ice cream inside a choux pastry topped with cream and molten chocolate. And no, I could not eat it all. My eyes were too big for my belly after being freezing cold and rained on from the open top deck of a bus. But I deserve credit for effort.
Me and my lovely son, Sebastian, outside the Louvre.
Venus de Milo at the Louvre. We also saw the Mona Lisa.
A cafe the name of which amused us . . .
The night of a thousand fires. Uncollected piles of rubbish left on the sides of the Paris streets set alight by disgruntled workers. It was a tricky journey home. The metro was closed and exploding piles of flaming rubbish every few metres on both sides of the street led to a two-hour walk back to our apartment. Not what we anticipated when we got off our boat following a delightful tour of Paris by night but we've dined out on the stories a few times since.
Calm returns: Paris from the top of the Arc de Triomphe . . .
An elegant afternoon tea at Laduree as kindly recommended to me by reader, Leslie S. In the foreground, I am drinking classic French hot chocolate (without the egg yolks this time,) or “chocolate soup” as we began to call it.
Me and Sebastian aside the River Seine . . .
Paris at dusk on our last night . . .
And so this trip is winding down. When you hear from me next I will be almost home. My last days in the UK were spent with my mother and some very long-time friends. But I will be back UK, and sooner than you think.
While I've got you here . . .
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