Last day in Paris

There are so many stories I haven't put on my blog. I could keep us all bored stiff for weeks. But, I am going to just tell you a few things before I leave this internet cafe for the last time. Gitte has gone home to Denmark today. Jennifer is having her eyes operated on, and I will pick her up around 5 so that she makes it home safely and she and her little girl Nel eat dinner. It feels like a good closure for this set of adventures along with the cold weather. The sun is out today, a rare event in Paris this time of year. Destiny is sending me off with a smile.

A couple nights ago I saw four men in costume, 2 santas, a bunny rabbit, and a court jester, lift up the end of their little blue car (un, deux, trois!) and move it into their parking place (which was actually just a curb corner where no other car had placed itself but where the pedestrians might also enjoy crossing the street.)

The Abesses Metro station is quite far below the surface. You have the option to take en elevator, but there are stairs too. These stairs are covered with beautiful murals of cityscapes in Montmartre, flower gardens, psychodelic abstract images, etc. (it is a long stairway, as I said!). It's a really nice touch for this historically artistic neighborhood (which is now somewhat over touristed, but that's another matter). However, unlike would happen in the states, where even the underground respects the artwork of others, people have tagged all along the murals.

Yes, all the artwork in all these wonderful museums, it is very pretty and the artist gifted. But the real work of art in Paris is the city itself. How do you consume a city? (yes, as I am an American, I am of course primarily concerned about consuming the things I love be it chocolate, a city, or a person.) The answer, I guess, is living in it, walking its streets, eating its bread.

I am coming back, so I remind myself that there is no point in having a whole emotional scene, but I can't help but feel vaguely devistated. You know I love San Francisco as much as I love anything else I can imagine, but... well... anyway, I will be back in the spring. There is no point in getting all worked up about it.