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Last Day

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Don't you just hate the last day of a great trip? You feel unsettled, somewhat sad, have trouble focusing on the here and now; yet feel a degree of anticipation over getting home, being in your own bed, own space. The last day just seems like something to get through.

It reminds me of the last week or two in my classroom, when kids often get quarrelsome or unusually grumpy, and say "I hate this place! It's boring! I hate you!" as a way to say goodbye and have an easier ending that's more on their terms as a positive thing instead of a sadness.

Our last day, we still had so many things we still wanted to do; so of course, did none of them.

We just walked a lot, which is really one of the best things you can do in Paris. We also took the Metro out to the Saint-Mande stop near the Chateau Vincennes to check out an inexpensive apartment I have in mind for a future family trip. It's an area completely off the tourist radar, yet an easy Metro or bus ride in. Happily, the building looks great, the area residential and lively, and there's a bus that travels to the Marais and St. Germain des Pres in 10-15 minutes.

After a light lunch at a cafe near Bastille, we did some last-minute shopping. A box of macaroons from Pierre Herme, a few bottles of pistachio oil, the good Normandy sea salt, some other goodies. We ended the afternoon at a very funny exhibit at the Grand Palais, showing many of the wild and wacky machines used in street theatre in Europe. If you heard about the giant elephant that marched through London last year, that's the sort of thing. I think I stuck my finger up a mechanical chicken's butt. There's video footage. The highlight was the giant "Pianopault" which launches a piano every afternoon at 5. They've been going through a lot of pianos. I took some mini videos with the camera, and will try to find a way of posting them when my brain is no longer dribbling out my ears from jetlag. Pauline the Web Goddess?

http://www.expatica.com/source/site_article.asp?subchannel_id=25&story_id=32058&name=Where+pigs+fly+in+Paris

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The plan was for a nice last meal at a restaurant we had enjoyed two years ago. My gut had other plans, and seems to have not thought much of lunch. So, our last night was spent watching French tv, while Larry enjoyed the last of the Epoisses with a baguette and Chablis, and I sipped tea and eyed my last Pepto-Bismol tablet.

See? We have to go back.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on August 11, 2006 1:08 PM.

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