This mention of Paris and being in Paris is troublesome because it is I who should be in Paris, having dinner in St Germaine at this very moment. Instead, I am at home, consulting with the Chow Nation over the details of Easter, which they are furiously planning. They say they didn't enjoy being home alone last year for Easter and this year they are really going to live it up.

But if I were in Paris, here's what I would do tomorrow:

I would stay in St Germaine and stroll down the Boulevard St-Germaine to the Institut de Monde Arabe to wander the exhibition, rendering me open mouthed and amazed every time.

I would cross the bridge into Ile de la Cite to the little yarn shop and see how they are getting along there, the proprietress and her cat. I'd check out the new luggage at Mandarina Duck a few doors down and then turn and keep going until I hit the Marais. I'd stop for a wonderful lunch, anywhere, with anyone. I would have a tomato and cheese sandwich on white bread and frothy light beer. I'd eavesdrop on the conversations around me, fast and furious French and wonder if I got all the details just right. I'd hit the African Art Gallery then, the linen shop, the bead place and go over to Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, to brontibay. I'd pick out one, only one, handbag and have it wrapped to take with. I would get over to the Hotel et Musee Carnavalet in time to have a decent browse before it closes. I would argue it's the best museum in Paris.

I'd then walk back up towards La Madeleine on the Rue de Rivoli, pausing to gape again at the Hotel de Ville; I'd cut over to St-Honore to stroll past the Palais de Elysee, the American Embassy and the hotel where the Arabs and their harems and children stay. I hope for a glimpse of the royal family on the sidewalk and a whiff of their wives as they slipped into the string of limos waiting at the curb-- heavenly perfumed and coiffed women with silent big-eyed children.

I'd get to Laduree in time for an early dinner, although not completely hungry. I would have what else? roast chicken, sauted mushrooms and spinach, and whatever the recommendation was for dessert. a wonderful crisp chardonnary and delicious dark cofffee afterward. I would take a small box of macroons to go and slip into the night, and the stars, and walk toward Pont Neuf, and pause at the bridge. Although the wind picks up on the river, I would decide to walk it all the way home, crossing and following the river all the way back to the little street where my key fits into the little red door.

My fresh bed would be ready and the hot shower would take me to sleep, sleep, sleep until the church bells rang....


JBelle
Bellemaison
The 'Kan EWA