On our last morning in Paris, we walked to the Luxembourg Gardens after breakfast. It's the second-biggest public park in Paris and not far from our hotel. It was a chilly, cloudy morning, but there were plenty of people in the park, including numerous joggers, families and tourists taking a Sunday constitutional, and the usual contingent of grown-ups and kids sailing model boats.
Then there were these two:
I suspect they are not Parisians; I doubt any local citizen would be caught dead, outside anywhere, in a hotel bathrobe OR those shoes. More likely... American.
We turned our attention to the beautiful trees, flowers, and statues in the park. The chestnut candles were in full bloom:
And so were beds of beautifully color-coordinated flowers:
Walking back to the hotel, we passed a long wall that has recently been inscribed with a 100-line poem by Rimbaud in elegant lettering. (He wrote it nearby, when he was 16.) You can see one panel here; there are several more. (It made me wish I'd paid more attention in French class, for the 10,000th time.)
Crossing the Boulevard at "our corner," by the church of Saint Germain des Pres, we saw this gorgeous blue shrub in the garden (I'm usually distracted by the crèpe stand nearby, but it wasn't open this time):
I can't believe I'm already ready to go back. We still haven't recovered from our colds, or dealt with the "Seat Plus" refunds that Air France owes us for the flight home. But we discovered today that we are nearly out of our favorite tea (Butterscotch) from Mariages Freres (I asked my husband to take inventory; for some reason, he thought we had plenty).
So it's just a matter of time.