Bonjour Mssrs. and Mmes.! Or Bonsoir! Either way, I’m awake, since I’ve slept a total of 2.5 hours of the last twenty-four. And only a few hours in the previous forty-eight. Other people sleep at night. I nap and then stare into the darkness, which, by the way, is as engulfing and black in Paris as it is in California. Who knew my insomnia could parlez vous Francais?
Not to be deterred, we’ve been out and about in the City of Light, doing our darndest to see the sights. We walked at least five miles yesterday, and a good three or four the day before. Not that this would, apparently be sleep-inducing. Perhaps tonight will be the night.
First things first. Our hotel is lovely. Our room is in the modest range for the esteemed Hotel Le Bristol, but we have no complaints. Could not ask for more perfect lodgings.
I was hoping that Owen Wilson and Rachel McAdams might pop out of the mirror-paned closet doors, but no such luck. They have disappeared along with Hemingway, Fitzgerald and the other denizens of Midnight in Paris. I watched it on the airplane on the way over (while, of course, everyone else was sleeping.)
The very, very best thing about Hotel le Bristol is the chat in residence, Fa-raon. We were introduced to him during our welcome tour and by the way he sniffed at my coat, I think he knew immediately that the Americaines had fallen under his spell.
Now for the sights. Having been utterly intimidated by the depth and breadth of Alexandra’s recent sight-seeing accomplishments in Paris – she brings a new definition to the phrase Tour de France! – tired or not, I decided I needed to get moving. Here’s what we’ve seen so far:
I’ve waited twenty-five years to visit the Musee de l’Orangerie, as it was closed when we were here in 1986. So great to finally see its treasures!
That mostly wraps up yesterday. More to come, but it’s late and time to try to sleep. Wish me luck!