I didn't actually ever go to the Eiffel Tower this trip. But I love it.
It is ever present. It is HUGE, when you stand under it...which I did, over and over the last two trips.
Everyone loves the Eiffel Tower. One day I thought I'd mosey on over and ride the elevator up to the top. But my trusty guide book warned that in order to avoid long lines one should consider going after 10:30 at night...maybe next trip...or another life when 10:30 isn't my bed time.
It's lacy. It's a giant stand of filigree.
And it pokes into view every where.
It's beautiful..and has overcome a beginning when the people then felt it was just an ugly monstrosity and not worth keeping around.
I must remind myself of this whenever my lip curls over the latest and greatest odes to bombastic architecture appear blighting the horizon.
So, today I am meeting a friend at Angelina's for sublime, and I mean outrageously sublime, hot chocolate. I'll walk back through the Tuileries, and across the Seine.
I've had a wonderful trip. I've loved everything except the domestic dust-ups that...dusted up--
I think the concierge has forgiven me picking on the elderly woman next door...but really she shouldn't have been moving furniture at 4:30 am, then again at 11:30 pm, now should she? The note I slipped under her door, protesting such activities, was very polite, and absolutely the appropriate way to behave. I had that information from the best of authorities. The noise stopped, too.
And I think the newspaper shop man started to warm up after I came in beaming the day Obama was elected. I babbled something at him, and he even smiled at me today when I got my paper. I'm telling you, this is progress!
Also, at Fragonard's yesterday, the young sales girl, upon my asking her if she knew where I could get salted caramels (I've heard they are incredible), said no. But she directed me instead to a tiny hole in the wall called Pierre Herme, and told me to buy the macaroons with caramel. She said they were the best in the world. She was totally Gigi about it.
Well, oh my god. I ate two walking back to Bon Marche. Two more in the park right at the Sevres-Babylon metro station. And the last one the minute I got in the door of the apartment.
I don't think they travel well, so I'm bringing none home. One must come to Paris
themselves and taste these incredible concoctions.
But so, tis the last day of my stay--
All is well, here in Paris, France.
But yes, I will be very happy to come home.
Comments