A QUIET SUNDAY IN PARIS

                                                              











This past Saturday morning was so exciting.  My husband went out early to the bakery to pick up some croissants, macaroons, baguettes, etc.  I stayed in and freshened up the apartment a bit and set the table for brunch.  I put out all the fruit I bought, some jams, orange juice, prepared a pot of coffee, got the espresso machine fired up, and put out several other things.  My husband had bought a dozen roses for me and I searched for a vase.  The only thing I could find tall enough was a plastic polka dot pitcher.  It actually looked gorgeous with the pink roses and black polka dots.

We were all set and now just had to wait.  Our cellular phone rang and it was the driver calling to say he was downstairs.  I gave myself one quick look in the mirror and one quick spritz of Yves St. Laurent Parisienne perfume, which had been a Christmas gift from my husband.  My husband went downstairs to greet everyone and to advise them about the lift.  Only one person with one suitcase at a time, or two people.  If the elevator were to break it would take weeks to be repaired.

The first up was my daughter and I welcomed her with a loud "Bienvenue a Paris."  She was so excited.  I asked her to remove her shoes and showed her the bedroom that was all prepared for her and my son in law where I had placed chocolates on her their bed for St. Valentine's Day.  She absolutely went crazy and started running around the apartment going from room to room.  Parisiens remove their shoes upon entering an apartment out of respect for the residents downstairs with regard to noise.
I made it back to my gorgeous double, tall (about 11 feet high) wooden door just in time for the lift door to open once again. I repeated this step three more times until finally my husband was back up in the apartment.  We all enjoyed brunch and after a while they all unpacked and we decided to take a little walk around our neighborhood to orientate everyone.

Sundays in Paris are wonderfully quiet.  The road along the Seine is closed to traffic and welcomes pedestrians, bikes, roller blades and everyone just strolling along. To start our Sunday we all decided to attend Mass at Notre Dame together and afterwards we could walk just over the little bridge that connects the Ile de la Cite to the very quaint Ile Saint Louis.  We were running too late to take the Metro so three women and the three men split up and took two taxis.  That's when it happened.

Having been born and lived my entire life in New York I am most aware of scams.  Well, I wasn't so aware this time, which I must admit hurt my pride.  We got in the taxi and I asked for Notre Dame.  He seemed not to know it, so I proceeded to say Ile de la Cite.  He started to drive.  I guess I was taking in the sights and talking in the taxi that obviously I was not any paying attention to the fact that we had left the Seine River completely.  The next thing we knew, the driver pulled up to a metro station named Notre Dame des Champs.  I told him no and that this is not where we wanted to go, but gave up quickly as I determined he was a complete you know what.  How could anyone in Paris pretend they do not know where Notre Dame is located!   Okay, so we were taken on a joy roy with the meter now of 11 euro, about $16 USD, plus the fact that now are in the middle of who knows where.  Alas, at least he dropped us off at a metro station!

The three of us ran down the two flights of steps of the Metro and asked the ticket agent for the directions.  He was so obliging that he took out a map, outlined with a pen the route and the stations to get us there.  He then proceeded to come out of the booth insert my euro purchase the tickets for us and handed me my change.  He was so very nice which once again goes to show people are nice all over the world, and then there is the other kind that we cross paths with from time to time.  We took this first train only one stop and then had to transfer over to a different line.  The second train we rode for five stops and finally emerged from Metro.  We had been talking about how worried my husband, son and son in law must be that we never arrived for the Mass.  We thought they would be frantic and distraught.  Boy were we wrong.

We had two blocks to now dash to still get to the church.  Having been married for over 40 years, my husband is privy to the fact that I love to sit up front when I go to church.  So when they had first arrived and did not see us,  he assumed this is where we would be and that they would see us outside when the mass was over.  When we got there the mass was ending and everyone was exiting.  We spotted the three of them coming out and we ran over to them.  As we approached them and my husband said, "Oh, wasn't it wonderful and we all received too!"  They had absolutely no idea what had just happened to us, about how we got ripped off, about how we ran for the Metro, changed two trains, climbed all those flights, then ran two blocks and how concerned we were about their worrying about us!  No, I didn't make mass yesterday, but God only knows how I tried.