The final day of my visiting Mother/Daughter combo's amazing tour de Paris last weekend began with a hangover and ended with wine. That's generally how my life proceeds when I have visitors of any kind... or just how my life often proceeds. After a 4am bedtime post-Moulin Rouge, I dragged myself to a student in the afternoon, then struggled through a nearly two hour commute home because the metro was trying to destroy my soul. As the heat of the week continued to plague the city, I was very happy to see the possibility of rain slowly increase. The only downside was that our afternoon/early evening plans included a boat ride down the Seine on the famous Bateaux Mouche. As touristy as it may be, it really is an excellent way of seeing some of the major sights and enjoying the nautical breeze.
As I waited for my lovely ladies to arrive, the skies did in fact open up wide and a waterfall of grecian godlike tears cascaded down. Happily, it was a passing storm, not intent on destroying our Seine-faring plans. The seats on the boat were covered in water and the clouds insisted on sputtering little fountains of rain down on us here and there, but since we so wisely bought some overpriced wine before venturing aboard, we were quite happy to enjoy the cool air and relish in the Parisian landscape.
After the boat ride, we made our way back to the 5th arrondissement where we had met the first night of their trip. This time, we were on a mission for crêpes, or galettes, as the case may be. My dear father had brought me to a specific spot back in the fall, Crêperie Josselin, so I knew there would be a line but that the final product would be worth the wait. When we finally sat down at our welcoming table, we viewed the long list of yummy options while also taking in the sight of our yummy waiter, a delightful French lad who certainly had no problem flirting in whatever language I chose. He was the one to tell us that ordering wine was not the way to go, and rather steered us to the in-house cider that I was mainly interested in because of the pitchers it so daintily flows from. When it was dessert time I was so full, I decided on another small cider rather than a crêpe (mainly because the baby pitchers were the cutest thing EVER!) and when I demurely reminded him that he had forgotten mon petit pichet, he apologized and said it was on him, as he winked and grinned like only a Frenchman can.
Our farewell task was to take on Paris by night, something I will gladly do any day of the week. There's a very good reason why Paris is called the "City of Light", and it can of course only be appreciated once the sun finally goes down. It's like another world, whispering memories, wishes, romance, and mystery. The city was glimmering as we wandered over Pont Alexandre III, and proceeded down the Seine, all the way up the Champs Elysees and to the Arc de Triomphe. En route we took pictures as only theatrically trained, dramatically inclined ladies can. We then had a commemorative cocktail to honor our final moments as we took in the scenery and wished each other à bientôt...
I will not go into detail about the fact that my transportation karma continued after my adieu. Needless to say, I attempted a bus rather than pay for a taxi and ended up on the other side of sketchy-at-night Bois de Boulogne, only to approach hysterical tears before realizing that there was a concert taking place nearby and therefore taxis to be found... Yup, only me... And next on the agenda? Back to Ireland to frolic in the Aran Islands, tra la!