City of lights

We were in Paris last weekend. M's sister was celebrating her birthday, and booked a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Paris for a week, along with two of her daughters, and we met them for the last few days.

It could easily have been a failed trip - they didn't have working cell phones and they got stuck in another part of the city, in the pouring cold rain, the day we were going to take them to a fancy lunch. So they didn't come to lunch. Afterwards, M promptly succumbed to some super short flu or food poisoning, and I rushed back from a shopping outing with the girls because M occupying the floor of the bathroom and baby A was doing her best to hang out with the music on the iPad. I got another cold, the apartment we rented was a 3rd floor walk-up, and we had to stay an extra day so M had enough energy to help me get our bags and our kid to the train and home. All the things it is, Paris is not a stroller friendly subway city. And it is also not a city in which to get decent coffee.

And we got home yesterday afternoon to a suite of hazmat issues:

a blocked up toilet (let's just say that it is too bad it was in the the bathroom that doesn't have a window or a vent),

the first-ever exploding diaper (just pee, but this bad boy ripped as I was getting it extracted from A's pants and diaper-gel-bits flew everywhere and then refused to be swept, moped, wiped or sticky taped up),

another blocked up toilet (I maintain that it is the fault of Parisian white bread),

a bread box that would have soon grown tentacles and slithered away,

and to top it off, and welcome us home,

a pile of bloody, small feathers on the window ledge just outside our bedroom.

What the hell happened while we were away?!

Despite all of this, I think of this trip fondly. We got to see family without having jetlag. The city was not covered in snow which was actually a good thing given how little we packed. The baked goods were lovely and we found an amazing coffee shop, about 100 sq ft in size, on the walk between our apartment and M's sister's apartment. I wound up chatting with the Italian barista and two British customers for almost an hour the morning M was recovering, his family had flown home, and baby A and I were on our own. That extra day we stayed was perfect. I've been to Paris about 20 years ago, and seen all the sights, and had no desire to run out to the Eiffel Tower or Louvre with a toddler. So we went to the nearby bakery and chose lots of things to eat. And then walked to the coffee shop, nibbling our goods, and sat in a toasty coffee shop, chatting about coffee, Paris and being expats. Later that day I dropped off A back at the apartment with M and went to get our train tickets changed, stopping at a shoe store and coat shop on the way home. No shoes, but I bought a made-in-Paris, crazy grey wool coat. We finally all got down for a nap, and then walked over to a nearby creperie and had a great dinner. The day wound up with us eating popcorn at the modern art museum's cafe - which is warm, free to get in to, and was close to home.

We got to have a few meals with family, we got to visit a few rooms of the modern art museum, we spent a few days away from home. It was lovely. And given how strong my drive is to see all the sights of a new city, it was nice to be somewhere I had already been (as an energetic 16 year old who could visit everything in a week), and just have the freedom to not need to get anything under my belt this time. Especially on our last day. No extra art exhibits, no highly praised restaurant, just a bakery and a coffee shop, and a chance to connect with a few people living in the city.

Good trip.