We arrived the afternoon of the 26^th  after a late night flight aboard British Airways.  We slept all the way and thus arrived at London’s Heathrow tired but OK. After a short layover we boarded a second flight to  Paris –  Orly.  We prefer Orly over CDG because it is a much smaller airport and closer to our apartment which means a shorter less expensive ride even with traffic.

We passed through boarder control (about 2 minutes), got our luggage and walked out –passing by customs (didn’t see any officers) which took about 10 minutes in total.  The cab ride to our apartment was another 20.   No sooner had we opened the door to our apartment than we looked at each other with a sigh of relief – ‘home’ – that’s really what it felt like.  Hard to understand – but it is so comfortable and maybe with so little of the life’s everyday problem crowding in, the relief was immediate.  (The woman who is our  ‘guardienne’ –who works for the building keeping watch, taking in deliveries, and who distributes the mail everyday had cleaned our apartment already (as we had requested).  After 5 months absence it was really nice to walk into a shiny clean space.)

Though fatique was beginning to make a weary, we unpacked quickly, took the sheets covering the  sofas and lamps off, turned on the coffee maker and plugged in the electrical equipment – TV, internet, telephone, and the cellphone – all necessary for our home away from home.

With that all done and a quick shower, we headed for the market and the Orange store, where I  buy minutes for my cellphone.    While I took care of that, George went directly to the organic (bio–) supermarche shopping for basic necessities — — yogurts of different kinds, milk, cottage cheese, eggs, and then from Picard’s next door (France’s famous frozen food chain) frozen foods to stack in the freezer for emergencies.  Before heading home, we stopped in at one of the many small grocery stores found on every street in Paris for our bottled water and some fruit; and I forced myselt into one of the three  boulangeries in our neighborhood for some fresh bread baked on premises twice a day.  Our favorite: a multigrain baquette -a pain cereal.  Though most of the pastries which usually fill the cases — at least until 2 or 3 pm — were gone, two tempatations remained –  baguettes baked with olives and cheese and a few with chocolate chips!  (Now when do you eat a baguette made with chocolate chips?  Probably when you might eat a chocolate croissant!).   The sales woman looked at me, “S’il vous plait –” and I pointed to one of each.  She smiled.

Home we went, dragging our shoppng cart behind us, in through the lobby and up to the 5th floor in our tiny elevator with just about enough room for George, me, and the cart.  We filled the refrigerator, checked emails, had a sliver of olive bread, checked more emails, and started contacting friends and neighbors about getting together .

We tried not to nap afraid that if we put our heads down we’d sleep half the night and be up at 3 am.  So we struggled and fortunately the urge to sleep passed.

At about 7:30 p.m. we began wondering about  where to go for dinner — having quickly fallen in step with French custom (despite our jetlag) to not eat before 8 pm if it can be avoided.  Unable to make any decision about where to eat, we again meandered out of our apartment down the street to the next big avenue – Ave Garibaldi – where there are a string of small restaurants we’ve not gone to. We read menus pasted to the windows, peered inside of several and kept on walking.

The name of one attracted us – loosely translated  “My foot is in your plate!” Ha!  It might have another idiomatic translation – but I don’t know what it is.  A small cozy looking place, colorfully decorated, with only one waiter bustling about serving the obviously mostly French diners – we decided to try it.  Indeed it was a local find for us.  Our appetizers were excellent -sautéed spinach with big slices of delicious parmesan cheese and  salad followed by pasta with gorgonzola sauce (for me)  a bowel of spaghetti with shellfish (for George).   The bread must have been baked on the premises – a crusty chunky bread infused with rosemary.   All was enjoyed with a ½ carafe of wine, conversation with the folks at the adjoining table, and the very cheerful waiter – we spent a most pleasant time.

Day 2:  This morning- I had to prepare for my French lesson via Skype which would take place at 1 pm.  (My teacher lives in Bretagne, France.)  It will be my last lesson for a while as these are set lessons each week and keeping the schedule now would be hard.

However, my first task was to call  EDF – the French electric company.  Now—let me say – I had a problem with the electric company and some of you reading this might remember my story so I won’t go into the details again.  Meters have to be read at least once a year by a company representative.  With great difficulty we had made arrangements for the meter to be read last September.  The young man arrived at the appointed hour, read the meter, and left.  So, you can imagine my surprise when 6 months later, just as we were again leaving Paris,  we received a letter informing us that we hadn’t met the requirement for the yearly reading and had to make arrangements lest by law the electricity be turned off.  UGH!

Immediately I called EDF and informed them that the meter had been read.  The woman, who spoke very good English, searched our files but said she could find no record of a visit or a reading.  OH – now what?  The woman assured me that the meter could be read the next time we came to Paris and not to worry – the electricity will not be disconnected.

So, this morning when I called EDF to make arrangements for the meter to be read again.  A woman answered the phone, and I responded with, “Bonjour madame.  Est-ce-qu-il ya quelqun  qui parle anglais?” (Is there someone who speaks English?). She responded, “I understand you!”  You can imagine my further surprise when she informed me after checking our file that there was no problem, the meter didn’t have to be read, and all she needed from me was the current reading.  I read the the numbers  off the meter to her, thanked her and said good-bye.  I was so shocked that I called back to confirm that indeed what she had just told me was correct.  It was, she reassured me.

With that done and my French lesson finished, we had a bit of lunch and took a long walk – first to Bon Marche the department store and then up Ave Rennes to BO Concept.  We’re looking for a couple of pieces to put our TV on but still haven’t found anything.  Nonetheless, the walk was pleasant – the air quite warm and lots of people all around very busy!  We had un café – and a thin tart de pomme at a little café near Bon Marche.  People out everywhere, walking, riding, talking, sipping coffee, wine, eating a bit of pastry – enjoying the warm sunny days after what has been a long, very cold winter here.  Every inch of sidewalk is covered with chairs overflowing from bistros — and did I mention waiters and waitresses running through the seated patrons delivering their orders.  All is done in a quiet frenzy — if you know what I mean.  And, if you know Paris – you can for the price of a coffee sit outside (or inside) all afternoon and never asked when you might be getting ready to vacate your table!

We arrived back at the apartment at about 5 pm.  En route, about three blocks from our pad we passed a long park which leads all the way to Napoleon’s Tomb — the gold decoration sparkling in the sun.  Usually the park is quiet with only a few nannies pushing strollers, but today — today it was teaming with young children playing, running, singing, jumping — as if they knew about brownian movement and were trying to emulate it! Teenagers on the other hand were lying on the grass — seemingly not bothered by the little kids.  They, in contrast, had slow motion – or no motion  — the joy of spring here.

Before we knew it, It was 7:30 pm and we needed to start thinking about where to go for dinner.  We decided to head over to the  St. Germain area and revisit a restaurant we’ve been to many times before, Fish La Boissoinerie – owned and operated by an Australian and an American.  It is on Rue de Seine in an area which is always hopping with activity.  The narrow streets here are lined with restaurants, galleries, cafes and all sorts of places that give the passer-by lots to look at.  And, La Boissoinerie itself is no exception — a small place with a distinctive glass store front bordered with inlaid mosaic of fish.  Not unexpected, the restaurant was packed and also not unexpected – it was filled with tourists speaking English.  Usually a sign that the quality of food and the service might be lacking we nonetheless decided to wait for a table. A glass of wine in hand, we stood on the narrow sidewalk in front of the restaurant watching folks go up and down the equally narrow street making the wait both pleasant and sometimes entertaining.

This restaurant’s bread is baked in a brick oven in a sandwich shop facing it, on the other side of the street. Every  10 minutes of so a waitress would make her way from La Boissoinerie across the street returning with  a load of bread in her basket.  We commented to one of them as she passed us  that we knew that bread (and we did) and loved it.  After delivering her bread to the patrons  inside, she surprised us — returning with a basket of bead for us. There we stood for the next half hour eating the most delicious bread hot out of the oven and sipping our wine.

Finally, we were seated at a small table for two crunched between the bar (which had lots of people standing around it) and a group of 4 very large diners.  Normally, I would have said to George, “Let’s go — this table is terrible”– instead we sat down and ordered our meal.  OH MY!  After the first course arrived I could have been sitting on the bar — it wouldn’t have mattered — the food was beautifully presented and simply delicious! Later we learned that they had a new chef which explained why their food had gone from good to nearly excellent.  George had a most savory mushroom soup (veloute), and I had a lentil salad (done with a tangy mustard sauce) and topped with ribbons of carrots .  We both had scallops for our main course – simply delicious.  Poached pears and vanilla ice cream for me –    for dessert.  G. had something equally wonderful – we were both very happy that we’d picked this restaurant and had decided to wait for a table.

We walked home – another mile added to the two we’d already logged in earlier – hoping it consumed some of the calories we had just enjoyed!