All of us woke up early and watched the city rise. I went for a run through the streets--all pretty sleepy. We set out and made it to the Eiffel Tower early and did not wait in line at all. We walked the stairs and caught the elevator on the 2nd floor.
We headed to Notre Dame--fast line, too. And then had lunch in the Latin Qtr.--yummy mussels, wine, and bread. I tried to order red wine and the waiter insisted I MUST have white with mussels--really, why argue? He was looking out for me. Okay, the kids had burgers and fries and both said they were the "best ever."
Hitting Shakespeare & Company Bookstore was a must, a mini Powell's but in Paris with a piano upstairs, a plastic toy animal display collection in a window courtyard, a Sylvia Beach Reading Room stocked with many books from classics to a collection of published short stories by James Franco (uh-huh), stony-tile floors, a narrow staircase, and a nook for Roman to type on a thing called a typewriter (that worked) and many hand-written messages from book lovers and writers that are safety-pinned to the wall.
People-watched for a while at Georges Pompidou Centre--always a young, gritty, somewhat sketchy crowd there on the pavement.
Made it back to the apartment in the 15th in an area called Andre Citroen (minus accent and umlaut) where Cyrus got the cold water he was seeking and Roman dressed how wounds from two parkour-esque falls--sheesh. I took a nap and Shawn got groceries and looked out the window.
Looking forward to the night--watching it all go down again.
We headed to Notre Dame--fast line, too. And then had lunch in the Latin Qtr.--yummy mussels, wine, and bread. I tried to order red wine and the waiter insisted I MUST have white with mussels--really, why argue? He was looking out for me. Okay, the kids had burgers and fries and both said they were the "best ever."
Hitting Shakespeare & Company Bookstore was a must, a mini Powell's but in Paris with a piano upstairs, a plastic toy animal display collection in a window courtyard, a Sylvia Beach Reading Room stocked with many books from classics to a collection of published short stories by James Franco (uh-huh), stony-tile floors, a narrow staircase, and a nook for Roman to type on a thing called a typewriter (that worked) and many hand-written messages from book lovers and writers that are safety-pinned to the wall.
People-watched for a while at Georges Pompidou Centre--always a young, gritty, somewhat sketchy crowd there on the pavement.
Made it back to the apartment in the 15th in an area called Andre Citroen (minus accent and umlaut) where Cyrus got the cold water he was seeking and Roman dressed how wounds from two parkour-esque falls--sheesh. I took a nap and Shawn got groceries and looked out the window.
Looking forward to the night--watching it all go down again.
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