Paris Musings by Jane Smith

I love Paris, all about it – cafes everywhere, beautiful old buildings that have stood the test of time, glamorous people, how French makes whoever speaks it lips pucker, small streets, the Seine, the Eiffel Tower, people kissing everywhere, Notre Dame and being moved when Nancy lit a candle, writing here in a chair in front of a sidewalk café while Nancy and Doug go “one more place,” the sweet air, it never seeming to get dark, street noises outside the window, our tiny hotel room, the size of the Louvre, the Musee D’Orsay, art books, the way people look and dress, that it is possible at my age to go to Europe for the first time, that I can work and travel with my work colleagues, that I can have a job that I love that makes this possible, that I am fortunate beyond words.

Diet Coke is Coke Light sans calories, my surprise that Nancy wants to shop, that I can stop when I need to, even if I don’t want to stop, and Nancy and Doug can get that.

The world seems bigger here, yet the cars are smaller on the small streets; that I can communicate at least a little with people here, that I can set Phil up well to be at home without me when I travel, that I can write anytime I have a minute, in a church, on the steps of a bookstore, saturate myself with art and architectural beauty and that I get so filled up, watching Doug want to see and do everything so filled with enthusiasm, sharing emails with Phil telling him about the day and his wanting to hear it, feeling so small in the face of the largeness, happy to do whatever I am doing, not needing to do something else; slowing down, not worrying, enjoying my disbelief at how happy I am to really be in Paris, and glad Doug asked me to do this.

Happy that I am excited about researching kissing, there is a lot of kissing in Paris, that Nancy and I are rooming together well here, and that we won’t be at the writing retreat, then again in Barcelona where none of us know anything including the language.