This trip so far has been an exercise in patience and faith. Molly arrived in Paris three days after her expected arrival due to snow and Easyjet being ridiculous. She was slated to leave the day after that but her lovely family generously changed her ticket so that she could see more of Paris and have Christmas with me. Unfortunately, when she arrived in Paris I was on the verge of being seriously ill with a sinus infection. Sigh.... we still had an amazing time together and I can't wait to visit her in Morocco.
The day before Christmas eve we took these amazing pictures of Paris from above. After a failed attempt to get me a doctor's appointment, we ventured into the city to shop a little. I was a mess, dizzy inside the perfumed department stores, overwhelmed on the crowded streets. So we escaped to the roof of Printemps (France's Macy's or Corte Ingles). The view was incredible. We could see all the spectacular lights of Paris under a dramatic dusky sky.
Christmas Eve we got the time right for the doctor. I finally succumed to the fact that I was really ill. My sinuses were so sore that any sudden movement of my head was excruciating. Molly translated for me as my french is now officially absymal. The doctor pressed upon my forhead and I nearly burst into tears and I made some seriously pathetic noises as he prodded my sinuses.
Molly and I went to the pharmacy afterward and added three more medications to the two I was already taking and dropped by the patisserie to pick up our buche de noel and a little treat. I made the brilliant choice to walk home instead of accompanying Molly to the city. It was still too early to call anyone back home and I desperately wanted to talk to my parents. When 6:30am finally hit the Pacific Northwest I called my folks and literally fell apart on the phone. Snot and tears and a few coughing fits later and I felt so much better. We talked for around two hours--I love them so much. All I need is to hear their voices and I feel like I can conquer the world again. What more could you ask for in parents?
Molly came home later that night, her arms full of tulips and fresh vegetables, and fed me. She claims I was an entirely different person after just a few doses of antibiotic, nasal spray, and thai peanut sauce. Thank god for Molly and socialized medicine.
This first shot is one of many to follow of our Christmas walk though Villennes. It was quiet, hardly a soul to encounter. This is the 11th century church near the trainstation.
This swan never gave up hope that I had brought him food. I'm a terrible tease.
The Seine.
You can always count on Molly to add some fun.
Someday it might be fun to live in a house with turrets, gables, and spires. Just a thought.
The Pretty Lady.
Molly and I on our Christmas Day walk.
The Boxing Day wait for the train... so cold!
Villennes Sur Seine train station.
Molly and I spent her last day roaming the Musee d'Orsay. The building is a converted Victorian era trainstation. Molly's grandmother grew up in Paris and remembers catching trains from here.
I was giddy with all the french masters of the early modernist movements: Cezanne, Renoir, Matisse, Monet, Manet, Lautrec, Degas, and a few new or forgotten masters to write in my notebook. There was a visiting exhibition on James Ensor who I had only previously known through a They Might Be Giants song. His work was haunting and crass and absolutely delightful. I love skeletons and his were comic and colorful. Upstairs lived an treasure trove of art nouveaux, art deco furniture and decorations, and works too large for the downstairs area (not to mention a few original plasters of Rodin--which included the gate to hell I've been wanting to see for years). The epic Windslow Homers, the statuettes of Sarah Bernhardt, the picturesque views of the Siene from the sunfilled windows... it was such a surprise that the upstairs was just as enthralling as below. It was a lovely day.
This is a very famous cafe in Paris where great thinkers and artists would sit for hours penning their famous phrases or waxing poetic with their friends. Gaspard, Nicole, Molly, and I drank our seven euro (!) hot chocolate while imagining Modigliani and Picasso and Hemmingway sitting at tables nearby (back when this snooty cafe was merely seedy). The hot chocolate was delicious and plentiful enough that it might actually be worth seven euros.
The Louvre, beautiful at night.
I don't care if it is fuzzy, I still love this picture of Molly. Her last night in Paris. I am so lucky that I got her for a few extra days (thanks to the generosity of her grandparents and mom), that I didn't have to spend Christmas alone, and that through my sickness I had someone as generous and lovely as she to take care of me. With our ten years of friendship, I feel so at home with her near.
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