The only bummer about having visitors (aside from the extra sheets and towels to wash) is the crushing silence that follows when they’re gone.
Papa and Lo flew back to the states today, leaving me a few pounds chubbier but sated with enough love to last until my visit home in December.
Their first visit to Paris was all I was hoping it would be for them. While I was at work during the days, they explored the streets, shops and landmarks, duly smitten with the architecture, people and way of life.
At night, our eating extravaganza continued: chevre chaud salads, steak tartare, grilled daurade, frites, flan and a fantastic dinner at Café Modern. These photos don’t do the pumpkin soup, autumn veggie tarte or cabillaud justice.
One night I came home to an early birthday celebration—an unexpected and sweet surprise, complete with wine, flowers and a delicious mocha cake. (Eating extravaganza, I tell you!)
On Friday, I took the day off and we trained out to Versailles. Despite the crowds and raw air, it was enchanting. The palace and grounds are as stunning and opulent as you’ve heard, as grand and dumbfounding as you’d expect.
But I never expected the relatively egalitarian estate of Marie-Antoinette, where she kept gardens and farm animals.
It’s like a strange little Disney town nowadays, complete with chickens, ponies, sheep, cows…
…pigs, like this enormous French oinker about to get head-butted by a goat…
and the cutest bunnies, all standing guard outside their huts.
This London plane tree was a beauty.
But I love cypress trees.
And I love my Papa Bear.