Joie de Vivre! Part Deux.

Paris.

The first twelve hours (see previous post) were crazy busy, hot, and full of the challenges of traveling with a large group.  It is pretty hard to keep everyone happy, on the same page, and going at the same pace.  Just like at home, with my four boys I often feel like I am herding cats.  Same goes with 16 Master's students.  Everyone has such different personalities and speed.  I am go, go, go.  Most days at home I never sit down once, so I like the fast pace, it drives many of my classmates nuts.  So, it is sometimes a relief for all of us to break out on our own or in little groups.

Most of us who stayed in Paris--some went back to London early--met up at the famous Cafe de Flor, which was only two blocks from my aunt's excellent flat I was pretending was my home in Paris.  Cafe de Flor has hosted all kinds of famous people, from Earnest Hemingway to F. Scott Fitzgerald, to Kanye West--who our adorable waiter said tips well but won't acknowledge the servers.  We had a total French cafe experience--winky waiter in black pants, vest, bow-tie and long white apron who brought us toasted baguettes, cafe americano, and the butter of the gods.  I like butter. A lot.  A whole lot.  And this French butter was like manna, I will never be satisfied with any other again.  Maybe I will have to learn to churn my own from some French farm women, because I doubt I can get it Fedex-ed to me in Arizona.

Splitting off into groups, my friend Katie (the only one who speaks French) and I decided to wonder around towards the other side of Notre Dame, which is the atmospheric gay neighborhood.   I am not sure we actually ever found it, but we did have fun wondering around the streets, shopping a bit and having a wonderful steak and fried potato lunch.

Parisian Street Art

We were on the lookout for heels for Katie, since four of us decided to go had decided to out dancing.  The breakfast waiter obviously got around a lot, and he wrote down the names and addresses of four clubs for us.  I invited Pierre to go along, and happily he said yes.  So, after spending the day being Parisian and buying wine, cheese, butter, ham, and olives, we met back at "my place" and did the cocktail hour thing.  It was lovely to sit around, eat and drink wine and chat.

Melissa was dying to see the Eiffel tower at night--it is illuminated and it has twinkle lights for five minutes each hour.  Pierre walked us down to a bridge to see it, but since we didn't have a great view at the 11:00 twinkle, he decided we needed to see it up closer.

Pierre learned how to drive in Paris, and it shows.  I had to close my eyes sometimes, but he was never phased, even has we were all singing along to old-school rap while navigating the infamous round about which all Parisian teens must drive through in order to earn their driver's license. He pulled over and we frantically jumped out just as the midnight twinkle was twinkling.  Beyond beautiful, beyond expectations.

And then we went to the club.  Whoa.  Pierre loves to dance and goes out, but he had never even heard of this club and didn't really think it was going to be there--right in the touristy Latin District.  But Latin as in the dead language Latin, which scholars studied in around here for hundreds of years.  Conversely, we ended up at Latino night (Zapotec Latino Papa!!) at a club called Le Saint.  Yes, I was one of the five white people there.  Miguel said, "Finally, I am with some other brown people."  It was all in Spanish--salsa, merengue, reggaeton, cumbers, and a little samba.  It was like being in Zumba class.  Dancing non-stop while sweat was dripping off me.  I don't know how Pierre and Miguel managed, with dress shirts, jeans, socks on.  I was wearing significantly less in the underground stone catacombs-esque club and I was melting.  But it was oh so fun.  I could have gone until they closed (at 7:00 a.m.) but the twenty-year-olds were giving out, so we left a bit before four.

The Sunday was the first day since leaving Arizona that I have actually relaxed and just chilled.  Actually, chilled is not too accurate, since it was an intense heat wave, I was on the fourth floor, and there was no A/C.  I took multiple cool showers and relished in that!

Two of the four towers of the National Library.

Pierre collected me and showed me the immense, modern National Library of France and then we ended the perfect weekend in Paris with a lovely, leisurely two-hour cafe lunch.

Ahh! Paris.....joie de vivre.