This weekend in Paris was intermittently rainy. Not stormy. Just occasional light showers. At times, we bicycled. In the rain. At rush hour. In heavy traffic. And I loved it. During this stay, I became more oriented with the lay out of Paris in a few bike rides than I had during twenty years of travel here in cars, trains and taxis.
We were, more or less, low key. We ate out a few times in local cafés, nothing elaborate. We brought in food. Rose Champagne. Fresh chevre. Baguettes. And two times, Roland prepared meals: artichoke heart, thin sliced with parmeggiano shavings, lemon juice and olive oil; and chicken soup with fresh herbs, tiny pasta, lemon juice, finished with lemon zest and fresh parsley and served with fresh, oven-hot parmesan bread. Thank you, Roland.
Another meal and the reason for us coming to Paris (rather than traveling home from Bruges) was our dinner on Thursday evening with Mr. Bernard Millant and his partner, Sepali. Several months ago, I contacted Mr. Millant and asked if he would join us for dinner in Paris. He was gracious and instead asked us to be his guests.
The venue was in the Bois de Boulogne, a large park--forest really--in Paris. The restaurant was a beautiful and enchanting chalet on an island. We took a boat across the water.
Conversation was lively. The food was delicious. Sepali was beautiful and interesting. And the evening sped by. Afterward, Bernard and Sepali drove us home. Along the way, places of interest were pointed out. Paris after dark, with hosts as excellent as Bernard and Sepali, is a special and memorable experience.
Last night, we were joined for dinner by Joel Soultanian. A Paris violist who Roland and I have known for more than 30 years. When Wes and I last saw Joel it was in the Dordogne in southern France where his wife was born. Her village, Ste. Genies, is gorgeous: rolling green hills, ancient stone buildings, rivers.
We are now aboard our plane: Paris to Chicago. Waiting for the doors to close.
It has been a fantastic voyage. My writing has been far too wordy and too heavy laden with superlatives. But. But how can one not exclaim loudly the beauty, majesty of the Norwegian fjords. Somethings in life are superlative. And their unique and special qualities cannot be overstated. Such was the nature of our journey. Thank you, Wes, for your fine planning. And Sam and Roland for your companionship.
Thank you for reading.
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