I awoke to the incredible smell of homemade bread in the oven. Wow. Nathalie makes her own sourdough bread, routinely, and she makes her own vinegar, grows her own herbs, etc. She’s a busy lady.

We had a nice morning.

Then, I saw opened an email from the Police/Prefecteur Office stating that my application for the Jeux-Pass was declined.

Should I panic? Leave? Hide?

Nathalie and I reviewed the email, but it was unclear as to why it was declined. Everything was filled out properly. All the necessary documents were attached. We couldn’t figure it out, so, I applied again. (She said her husband’s initial application was denied due to the photo not being clear enough.)

Later in the day, they wrote back, and this time they gave me a reason, saying basically, they didn’t think I would need it. Ok.

I’m not so sure because let’s review my day…

I took the Métro Line 7 to Châtelet to change to Line 4. Nope. No, I didn’t.

I sat there as we blew past Pont Marie, Châtelet (my stop!), Pont Neuf, and finally we stopped at Palais Royal, Musée du Louvre, where I jumped off, because I started to worry it would be my only chance! I felt a little like I was in a movie. Hardly anyone was on board, and we were bypassing every station. I wondered if the train had brakes, you know? No one else seemed alarmed.

Now I had to re-plan my trip since my planned stop was 4-5 stops behind me. My app was telling me to go to Line 1 and take it BACK to Châtelet. What? Ok, I need to ask questions. I will say there are a lot of people stationed in and around the city – above ground, and underground. I found some employees and asked. I explained how I had just been on Line 7 and we bypassed Châtelet – now I’m being told to take Line 1 back to Châtelet. Yes, they said, that’s right. Ok, why? Well, apparently, only some of the lines are « disrupted, » not the stops, and mine is one of those lines because why? Because of my proximity to the Olympic Games that I DON’T NEED A PASS FOR.

I made it to my destination, but it sure was round-about. Again, because I’ve lived here, I didn’t panic. I felt comfortable. I knew I’d get there. I knew the neighborhoods.

On the second line, three Gendarmes boarded the subway and surrounded me. Not kidding. I was the only one standing at the rails. I worried for an instant that they knew my application for a Pass-Jeux had been declined, and I expected them to start questioning me at any moment.

That didn’t happen.

I exited at Châtelet, and they stayed behind. There, I switched to Line 4. And, while waiting, three (different) Gendarmes came and stood at the doors to the subway, next to me. I was starting to feel targeted.

Nothing happened.

Did I mention there’s a van of Gendarmes at the end of my street here, and I can see them from the terrace? They were there all morning and all afternoon, too. I watched them stop a lot of pedestrians. Not me, but a lot of others.

Exiting the subway, Line 4, I sat down at a favorite café in the 6ème on my old street. I saw some of my favorite waiters, and was happy they remembered me. So lovely. I enjoyed a salad – that has toast with goat cheese and honey – contrasting with a nice vinaigrette. I would never have paired any of this, but in Paris, it all works. Afterwards, I enjoyed un café allongé after having drunk a full bottle of water at the table. I couldn’t help but notice how quiet the neighborhood was. Am I just used to the 4ème now, which is just bustling and filled with sirens – or is this just the usual July thing in Paris? Or is it the Olympics?

Nathalie had said, now you know why all the Parisians are fleeing the city!

After finishing my errands in the 6ème, which included buying a small, inexpensive – but very French – piece of carry-on luggage, I started to plot my way home. This time, Line 4 was down. Oh, no. Now I had to walk to another station – with an empty suitcase in-hand. Well, mostly empty. I did buy some necessities at la pharmacie, and used it as a tote. But I digress. There I was, walking down Rue de Rennes, trying to map out my trip home. It was hot today. A first, really. And as I walked, I found myself passing a taxi stand with a row of empty cabs. Guess what I did?

Once settled in the pleasantly air-conditioned cab, I chatted with the driver. The Olympic Games are certainly wreaking havoc for these poor workers. Road closures, Pass-Jeux, les gendarmes, inaccessible bridges. Crazy! We spoke French the whole time, and I was very comfortable with it, and quite proud of myself. As we neared the apartment, he asked:

Avez-vous le QR Code et les Pass-Jeux ?

Do you have the QR Code and Pass for the Games?

OMG, here we go. No, I said, I don’t. They have determined that I don’t need it at my address. He shook his head. He couldn’t drop me off in certain areas, why? Because as we neared the apartment, the surrounding areas required the PASS that I apparently don’t need.

I’m working around it.

Back to the suitcase I bought. I thought I was clever. I bought one that matched the last one I bought. It’s very French, and red, and it’s a mini-carry-on. The last one was a bigger version of it, but also a carry-on. It’s so cute, and it was on a major sale, being July.

Nathalie came home from work and was nonstop – from laundry, packing sandwiches on that homemade bread for the train ride, yogurt and honey she put into her recycled glass yogurt jars, and slices of this and that. She took out the biodegradable garbage, glass recycling, trash, etc. It was fun to watch her throw everything into two totes, a backpack, and one rolling soft piece of luggage. One tote was full of food for the train, homemade goodies, utensils, etc.

Her husband had packed quite a dapper piece of luggage last night. His valise was stunning – a dark, shiny, ribbed, high-gloss navy piece. Very French – hard-sided. Maybe Delsey-Paris (helium), I don’t know, but it was pretty. lol!

What’s with me and luggage, here?

And now I’m alone with Luigi in the apartment. He was an important last night – and again this morning.

Nathalie’s husband was entertaining a guest on the terrace. We are 6 stories up – 6 very tall stories. Luigi sometimes goes over the rail and into the gutters here on the roof. My heart skipped a beat when he did it last year. Now? He brazenly did so in front of Lillian after being told “No!”

They couldn’t get him to come in – but I did. Somehow. I don’t know how. Cat-whisperer.

This morning, I caught him in the act, and coerced him off the rail and into safety inside. He does listen, and seems sensitive to me and my reaction to his circus acts! I always try to remain calm, but I am certain he senses my fear – even if he has none.