Ah, Paris. I’m back! And the City is as lovely as ever – filling my senses, nourishing my soul, and healing my wounds. It’s what she does.

I first came here at the end of January, 2022, as an escape of sorts. I had some significant healing to do. The wounds were big. And raw. In the end, I more than healed. I grew – in ways I didn’t know possible, and it hasn’t stopped. Late bloomer, here. And I highly recommend it. In fact, I don’t think any of us should ever STOP blooming. I didn’t call this blog “My Renaissance” for nothing. I was seeking something like that, and boy did I find it.

Those Winter, Spring, and Summer seasons of 2022 and 2023 – here in the City of Light – were indeed life-altering. I lived and breathed everything French, attending school daily in the 6ème arrondissement, earning 275 certified hours of French language study at Alliance Française. At the end of summer in 2023, I extended my stay and lived in the 4ème arrondissement, where I took care of a friend’s cats. True story. All-in-all, those 3 trips added up to nearly 10 months’ worth of LIVING, as I’d never done before. And study. And art. And more. More than a dream-come-true.

I took advantage of every single trip, promenade, tour, museum, lecture, film, and some wine tasting that Alliance Française offered its students. And the next thing you know, I was in love. I attended the ballet several times, visited the haunts of early 20th Century literary types – and went to every museum exhibition I could get to. I even spent three days at Giverny, in Monet’s village. And I didn’t skimp on the usual Parisian clichés, in that I went to the summit of the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe! I bought souvenirs and berets for friends. I bought art along the Seine. And I ate some of the most amazing food ever!

But here I am, with trip #4. A lot of life has happened since last summer. I’ll be lighting a lot of candles around the city’s cathedrals as I stroll about. It’s a wonderful place to contemplate, too. You can be alone here, or not. It’s up to you.

Since it’s been a long time, I wondered how it would feel returning – but it seems I haven’t missed a beat. I recognized all the streets as the taxi drove along the Seine and the driver chatted animatedly about the necessity of all art forms, philosophy, and the importance of one’s mind and spirit. He carried on about how too many people just work, sleep, work. It’s a French expression: Métro-Boulot-Do-Do (it’s a little rhyme). I smiled, admiring his passion. The expression meaning: subway, work, sleep… repeat.

And then we passed by the cats’ apartment, and my heart was full, thinking of Chépa and Luigi, my two charges.

Because I’ve kept up my DAILY French studies, I am finding that I am speaking French with a lot more ease, and I am able to understand a lot more (!) spoken French, as well. This pleased me, no-end. Spoken French at speed is challenging to these American ears. You can imagine I was delighted when the driver told me I spoke French beautifully. (I will never tire of that. And I’m still beaming, hours later!) They really do notice, and they really do care about their language.

My son had graciously driven me to the airport in New York, and the drive was arduous. JFK. If you know, you know. The Belt Parkway should be renamed the Belt Parking Lot. Anyway, my flight on jetBlue was perfection. Fast, courteous, with good food and service! Upon landing at CDG, I went through Customs at speed, my bag was already on the carousel when I got to it, and it was a short hop, skip, and a jump to the queue for a taxi. Flawless.

Except for the fact that, well, I haven’t slept yet.

I usually take a nice nap on the plane, but I got wrapped up in a movie and the next thing you know, it was too late to nap. So, here I am, apartment-sitting for my friend in the 4ème. She’s on her way to Cannes, so I helped her pack, and then we had a small luncheon together in the apartment. After she left, I went to the grocery store, buying wine, Camembert, charcuterie meats, etc. And on my way home, I spotted une boulangerie, and popped in to buy my daily bread – une baguette (une tradition), and un croissant, bien sûr! The craving is real.

The weather here has been unseasonably chilly. I shut all the windows. It doesn’t feel like June. It also doesn’t feel like 100 degrees Fahrenheit, like we’re getting back in the States. Yikes!

When I landed 12 hours ago, it was bright and sunny, looking promising – but we did get a bit of rain a few minutes ago, as has been the major complaint of Parisians this spring. (When they’re not on strike or protesting. I kid.)

I don’t know what I’ll do first, or next, but I know sleep is in my near future. And a croissant. 🥐