Mon petit matin

I awoke early this morning with the intention of going to Giverny before the masses of people arrived in the afternoon.  Giverny is the location of Monet’s house, and also where he painted his famous waterlilies.  I went all the way to the train station across the city, only to find out that the tickets were sold out, and that the next train wasn’t leaving for several hours.  I was pretty bummed, but decided that it was a sign, and that I was meant to spend some more time in Paris itself.

I decided to walk a little bit while formulating a game plan for the day.  I wasn’t paying much attention, and all of a sudden, I found my right foot in a puddle the size of Lake Eerie and as deep as the unexplored parts of the Atlantic.  Along with the tidal wave-esque splash I created, I must have emitted a surprised yelp, because I looked up and a couple in the café across the street was staring at me, mouths agape.  I saw the woman stifling a laugh, which made me giggle…which (surprise) made her laugh, and she gave me a nod of recognition that seemed to signify, “wow, that’s rough, but I’m glad you’re laughing about it.”

I chuckled to myself all the way down Avenue de l’Opéra, and found myself standing in front of the Louvre.  Since it was still only 8 in the morning, the main square with the pyramids was the picture of tranquility.  The fountains weren’t running, tourists weren’t clogging the paths, and the sun was reflecting off of the water, making it unforgettably picturesque.  I sat and read for a while by the fountain until the crowds appeared about an hour later, and then descended into the museum to pick up a couple of post cards.

It’s mornings like this that I’m happy to call Paris home: the streets are quiet and the sun is low in the sky, casting an angelic light on the buildings and café tables that line them.  What am I going to do in just a few short weeks when this is all over?