Before any more times passes I want to recall the things about Paris and my
Paris trip that stood out for me--not ideas, impressions, and the like, but
things, events, moments. Here are some. These are things that stuck
out--not necessarily all good nor all bad. Just memorable. (Forgive the misspellings--I haven't the energy to look these things up.)

I loved walking around in the Louvre. What a great place to wander through. It beats any other musuem.

Drinking a caraffe of wine and eating a plate of cheeses while talking with Ann at a cafe near Notre Dame.
I love cafes, sitting and talking, drinking coffee, or in this case, wine.
It was on a corner of two busy but narrow streets. Nice.

Ahhhh, touching Sartre's grave. It's silly of me, but touching it was
special. Being there, and paying respect. Moving, really.

Walking on the Champs Eleysees late at night and going into the big Virgin
Records store near the Arch De Triumph. It was the night of our arrival,
and all was before us and exciting. Ann wanted to go into a perfume shop, so we did that too. It was late by the time we finished, so we had to walk back. And to think she was going to stay in that night and rest.

Walking along the Seine on our way to the meeting place (the Eiffel Tower)
for the bike tour. The view along the river is stunning. Stunning.

Walking around the outside market at Montparnasse alone, and reveling in the
fact that I was wandering amongst strangers in a strange land. And eating
the apple pastry I'd bought as I surveyed the map for the luminaries buried
within the cemetary there, Sartre among them.

Buying our pastries and juice in the morning and walking through the street
outside our hotel as we started a new day. I loved how it felt like we were
not amongst tourists, but mingled with people starting their regular work
day.

Hearing the organ at St. Germain des Pres. And then very shortly after
that, watching a service at Notre Dame and again hearing its organ.

Walking around the Sorbonne and the Univ. of Paris, the Pantheon, and the
Latin Quarter at night. We walked our asses off that day, and man did I
have a good time.

Walking home late at night after a night with the boys. It was 2 or 2:30,
and I walked for about 40 minutes. Except for the area around St. Germain,
the streets were empty. It was eerie and cool. It was nice coming back to a friendly face too, and chatting for a few moments.

Oh, man... looking out upon the canal at Versailles at the close of the day,
a soft cool rain falling from a gray, embracing sky, the expanse of water,
the seeming miles of green grass, and the most exquisite melancholy I've
ever enjoyed. Oh, I could have savored that moment forever... but people
were tired, wet, cranky. For me, none of that mattered. It was a perfect
moment. A rare and beautiful moment that comes so infrequently in life.
I'm a sentimental fool, perhaps, but it was truly special. I'm reminded of
it by the picture I got, which is pretty good. The rain was perfect. We
couldn't have asked for better weather. Perhaps it was good that it was
fleeting, that people were hurried by the rain. Aren't all special moments
fleeting and snatched from an instant?

Walking around the outside of Notre Dame both times we were there was inspiring. There are so many great views of that church, each different than the one before. I wonder about who lives on the street beside it. There's a small street beside it with a few cafes on the corner, but then lots of apartments. What a location to pass one's days. Imagine if you could look outside your window and see Notre Dame right across the street.

I remember our walk to the hotel where Gerry and Brian were the day we arrived. I was so tired and loopy from the long plane ride, and the long ride from the airport. But it was exciting being out on the streets. We didn't know where we were going, and we took quite a long way around, it seems in retrospect. But we saw lots. We went past the sex district, to which we never returned. We passed by the Moulin Rouge uncerimoneously. It was a strange and exciting walk.

Gosh, how about the three-hour ride in a van from the airport to the hotel. Traffic was jammed due to a transit strike. Mostly I remember the harrowing ride through the streets after we'd gotten off the highway. I've been in cabs in New York City. That doesn't even compare. I liked the jazz musicians who shared the ride, worring about missing their "gig."

Riding through the streets of Paris at dusk in the rain on bicycles was fun. Paris was beautiful then. Mostly I remember riding around the Lourve, St. Chappelle, St. Dominque, and the military grounds (I've forgotten what it was now, but stunning none the less hahah).

A couple of times I was approached by someone speaking to me in French, in the subway, or on the street. I'd stammer and say "Je ne parle Fransaise." Not sure if that was coorect grammer for "I don't speak French" but it always got my meaning across immediately. One guy immediately asked, "English?" and I smiled and said yes. But that was it. Obviously he didn't know English. It was nice trying to converse, even sometimes actually communicating. The awkwardness of it was fun. It seemed to be commonplace for them to come across those who spoke foreign languages, and they were good-humored about it. I so wish I know more French so I could have tried to speak a little. I think it'd be so much fun to know just a little French.

There's much more, but I'm tired, so this will have to suffice. It's enough to give you the idea that I loved Paris, the Parisians, and my Paris vacation.