Walking through Spring in Paris

Sometimes you just have to follow your feet.

Today was that kind of day for me. Sure, there's a lot of computer work that needs doing. Yes, I have to clean my apartment. Ok, I should probably unpack that last suitcase... But it was 21 degrees, and even the dog wanted to do something fun.

By 9:30 a new mission for the day had emerged: Spend all of it outside.

Tequila and I started by looking for the vineyard on Montmartre. (Why is this thing always so tough to find?!) The artists in the market seemed pleased to see me again; it's been a long time. (Ok, they're pleased to see anyone interested in their work.) But the streets of the 18th are just too familiar for me, so Tequila and I ventured to uncharted territory.

I have no sense of direction. I had no map. We just walked. And walked. And walked. We weaved our way along the Seine, visited the few dog-friendly gardens in the area, and marched on.

But our feet grew weary. "Time for lunch," I announced, and realized I had left the house with nothing. No book, no notebook, no nothing. Just a wallet and some doggie-doo bags. What's a girl to do? Can't lunch without entertainment.

"As soon as we find a notebook, Tequila, we'll rest." Who knew it'd be so hard to find? We started searching by Pont Neuf along the Seine, found ourselves on St. Germaine, and still... no (affordable) librarie in sight. By the time we reached the Eiffel Tower, I was even dragging my feet.

I decided a coke would be fine and marched into a tabac, just like all the other tabacs on all the other streets all over Paris. It was worth asking, "Do you have a little notebook?"

"Un bloc?" the lady behind the counter asked while fingering old receipts.

"Um, yes? Maybe?"

Like a magic elf she disappeared behind the counter, crouching low as if she was descending a secret set of stairs to her hidden room of special treats. Flustered, she returned with a simple notebook in hand. I sighed bittersweet. Yes, it's there, but once again better vocabulary would have made my life easier.

There were extra pens on the country. For 3€ I was on my way.

Grabbed a sandwich on the go, let the dog off the leash, curled up in the grass.

Now here I am: Watching Parisians march along in their day, capturing my wild mind on tabac-purchased papers. This, to me, is spring in Paris. Green grass, good food, and a bloc de notes.