adventures with my baby: Jim Morrison

5 days in Mallorca is really not enough to fully unwind. The last time, I think it was a week. Then, I felt like we had time enough to do little enough: get up late, have a coffee and pastry, wander around the town center, return for the typical 4-hour French lunch, take a siesta, go to the beach and swim, sunbath and read, return for dinner. Now that I type that out, it’s actually a lot. I certainly never got through that much in one day with my baby in tow. We almost never get out of the house before 2p.

But we’re back in Paris now. The flights were uneventful, and J very kindly met us at the airport.

As I mentioned, I’ve been riding the bus instead of the Metro because it feels safer with a baby. I stepped out of the house for the first time today at 3p. There’s a bus stop right in front of J&G’s building; so, I checked where those buses went. One goes near Pere Lachaise and was coming in 1 minute. We got on it.

I went to Pere Lachaise last in 1995 with Grayson, and we visited heady graves like George Elliot and Chopin. We never found Jim Morrison’s grave. I wonder if his grave is now more famous as he is? It’s one of the top tourist attractions in this city of famous things. Leaving the grave site, I directed 3 middle-aged American-in-the-worst-sense-of-the-word women to it. I can’t even imagine them listening to The Doors!

I just googled him to get the spelling of the cemetery and find myself surprised at how young he looks in the photo, like a teenager. Now that I have a baby I see everyone as somebody’s baby: bin Laden, Jim Morrison, Obama, Madonna…. Another strange coincidence: C shares Jim Morrison’s birthday, and he was born the same year as my mother.

I had my usual lunch of 2 pastries in the cemetery before heading back on foot.