Bastille Eve

I am having a coffee at Café Français looking at the Bastille obelisk as I write.

Last night, I had a video chat with a friend in the States that lasted till nearly 2am, Paris time. My time. We toasted each other with wine and bubbly, and had a lively (!) conversation! Even though we had spoken just two weeks ago – we seemed to have had plenty to talk about, and a lot to catch up on!

By the end of the call, I was tired and ready to crash, but happy to know I could sleep in, having “no plans tomorrow,” I told her, and myself.

I was wrong.

Our French Club is getting a new teacher, Gigi and the first class with her was scheduled for Saturday. So I awoke, kind of remembered it was Saturday, and washed up to get ready to sign-in on line. Live! I even put lipstick on, which isn’t a stretch if you know me.

Well. I went to our site, but nothing happened. The wheel just kept spinning. Endlessly. Then, it hit me – omg – Parisian time. It’s 6am in NY. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just got up and I need a nap.

And that’s when my phone dinged, reminding me I had scheduled a tour of the Bastille today. And not just a tour – a WALKING tour. A 2-hour walking tour. Omg.

Re-group. Refresh. Add coffee.

What am I wearing for this?

Siri, what’s the weather?

Ok. Light blue jeans rolled at the ankles, navy Mary Jane shoes (good for walking), and a navy sleeveless T. I’m set. Basic. Oh wait, my Chanel sunglasses – so not THAT basic.

Here we go. Google Maps. This was going to be on-foot all the way. Don’t be late. Don’t be late. Don’t be late. I studied the route before heading out. This helped. It starts at Châtelet, and ends at my apartment area here at Bastille.

I started out, made a right onto Rue Saint-Antoine, and Omigosh where’d the sun go? It’s chilly. There’ a breeze, too. Uncomfortably chilly. Well, there I was walking past all of these shops with their annual July sales… what is a girl to do?

I spotted a navy printed scarf on a display through a window, and popped in. Half price! Ca-ching! They cut the tag for me, and I went right back outside to my walk to Châtelet, barely missing a beat.

And the sun came out, and I was warm again.

Barricades are stockpiled on corners, getting ready for Olympic events and other festivities. Tonight is the annual event of the Paris Firemen balls, as in parties. All the doors of fire houses are open tonight to the public where people dance and party in the streets till the wee hours. It’s a tradition dating back to Napoleonic times and happens the night before le 14 juillet festivities, sometimes 2-3 nights.

But I digress.

I met my tour guide and gave a hearty « Bonjour, » to which he replied that the tour would be in English. Je comprends. Here I go. I couldn’t stop myself from, speaking French. Now he thinks I’m French. 😂 Oh God, you know how I hate that! At some point, I will explain.

I won’t go into the details – but he sure did. I have never been on a more history-filled tour. He weaved a story! History! It was like we were walking through the events of the storming of the Bastille in real time! Amazing guide! Two-plus hours of story-telling and history. He didn’t miss a thing!

It says: République française ou la mort

This was apparently painted in RED, and it would never come off, so now it is protected.

And during the tour, the sun came out and warmed me, but not too much. It plays hide and seek like that a lot. Scarves are a necessity here for every season.

So, tour is over, and I decided to sit here and have a coffee and start weaving my own story. Have I mentioned how much I love this city and its people?

Not sure what I’ll do tonight. Maybe the firemen’s ball here in the Marais? Not sure that’s my speed. I’ve never been.

It’s chilly again as I type. I’m in the shade. I can see Olympic rings on display near that Bastille obelisk across the street. I think I’ll venture over there for a photo op.

On my way to see these rings, a gentleman stopped me and struck up a conversation. I thought he recognized me or something. No. He asked if I wanted him to be my companion as I walked around. That was new. I said a polite, no thank you. He didn’t speak English. But he was a gentleman about it.

Oh – and the Olympic Torch will be in my neighborhood tomorrow! Stay tuned.