Stepping Into the Light (of Paris)

November 17, 2005 | Category: Picture Post

I want to say this loudly and proudly... the boy did good. We landed in Paris and were met outside customs by our driver, who whisked us to a fabulous hotel (Hotel du Louvre). Our suite had TWO floor-to-ceiling doors opening to balconies that looked onto the Louvre (that is CD standing on a balcony in the 1st picture). AND they allowed us to check in early, so we could shower and change.

Despite the fact that it was overcast and windy, we set out for a long walk. We meandered up the streets past spraying fountains tipped in gold and ancient facades with carved fleur-de-lis. Bought me a scarf to keep out the cold. Along the way, I kept turning to CD and saying wonderfully mature and erudite things like; "That's the Seine! We're walking along the Seine!" or "Ooh! Ooh! Look! It's Notre Dame!" or CD's personal favorite, "I'm in Paris! I'm in France! I'm not wearing underpants!"

Along the road towards Notre Dame are predominately garden and pet shops, and the proprietors use the sidewalk as an extension of their stores. We made our way through orange trees and fancy displays of dog leashes. As I leaned in to take a picture of one of the more whimsical birdcage displays, CD whispered in my ear "Free the gnomes!" and started teasing me about the oppressed nature of French garden gnomes and how we should start a movement to gain their gnome suffrage.

Viva les gnomes!

My friend Dee, who was in Paris just a few weeks ago, had commented that one of the things that had struck her was the amount of penises she saw in Paris. Uh, on sculptures. And how realistically sized they seem to be.

Now, I'm not about to get into a debate on why she was going around Paris checking out the sculpture's penises (penisi?) instead of the warm-blooded variety but it was intriguing enough a comment that we decided we should check it out.

And sure enough, I am here to report that there ARE, indeed, over a dozen marble penises hanging in the wind just in the short mile or so along the Jardins and around the Champs De Lysee. And yes, they were uh, realistic. Or not. Depending on who you know.

Let's just agree that Paris is, among its many other benefits, a city of glorious nudity.

On Saturday Night, we met one of my all-time blogging heroines and her partner in REAL LIFE for dinner. This will go down as a highlight of not just the trip but of the past few years. If you look closely, you can see my wrist in the picture in the post she wrote about her visit to Paris. My wrist! On her website! How cool is that?

In case you're wondering - Helen and Angus are just as loving, funny, bright, warm, and sharp in real life as they are on her website. It was a great night. And I will be hung over for weeks as I recover.

At 12:01 she raised a toast, and as easy as that? I was 40 years old. It was light and lovely and CD and skipped up to our room kissing and silly.

I don't know what happened in the night. I should have been overjoyed. My birthday in Paris. Dinner with Helen and Angus. Good things ahead! A gift in the room safe! But no. The the next day, I woke up in tears. I have no sense of how it had shifted inside me, but I was suddenly terrified that the best of life was behind me, and shaken by who my reflection had become.

I remained as fragile as spun glass, my emotions ripping away a storm inside me. Even as I opened the gorgeous Swarovski crystal necklace and bracelet that CD had given me. Even as we traveled the Seine in a glass boat, eating gourmet courses and watching the Eiffel Tower sparkle in the night. CD tried to take care of me, but I couldn't stop shaking and crying. I don't know why. I wish I did, because it has lingered into all the days since.

The next day, after investigating the Louvre for hours and especially enjoying the ancient Egypt exhibits, we found a Hertz rental car place in the mall beneath the museum. We decided on a lark to get a car. Within minutes, we were on the roads of Paris reenacting the car chase scene from Bourne Identity. As CD zipped in and out of skinny streets with no lanes, I frantically turned the map this way and that looking for a way out of town. That we ended up on the A1 is thanks to divine intervention, and NOT my navigation skills.

Eventually we settled on a northward trajectory, and into Lille and then on to Brussels. By nightfall, we were sitting in a tiny pub with a Dutch-speaking proprietress who was trying to understand my meager French.

The map we had was of Paris with the rest of France shown only in major routes. And, as it turns out, the way to get around Brussels is to go around in this tunnel that circles the main part of the city. You go down and up, hoping that each exit will bring you back to the highway.

(Dear Belgium: Better signs. Just saying.)

Eventually, hurrah, we DID find the highway again. Except we were now on our way to Luxembourg. OK, so we turned around. And soon, we saw signs for Germany. (CD: NO! Not Germany! This is BAD!). So we turned around AGAIN. And found ourselves on N8, which was actually a road on the map we did have. And we breathed a sigh of relief.

Until, dear God, we realized we were headed to Gent. And beyond that, the Netherlands.

So we turned around and went the other way. And an hour later? More signs for Gent.

So we took another road. And another one. In the dark of rural Belgium, on a cold night with only a full moon showing the way, we drove around for 3 hours.

Until, finally, we found a river. And from the river, we found the main drag. And from the main drag, we found Lille. And like that, we were in France again.

Our nerves frayed, our patience gone, we made our way with terse words back towards Paris. But somehow, by the time we approached the Rue de Versailles and made our way back to the Louvre, things had begun to settle between us.

Things long unsaid had been hauled out into that tiny car and shouted at. It had hurt, but then it had begun to feel much, much better.

Dropped the car off, walked through the cold breezes to our hotel. Savored the warm there, the steam of a hot shower. And as we crawled into bed, he reached for my hand beneath the pillow. And we fell asleep kissing distance apart.

With the alarm set so we could make the plane home in the morning.

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