August 9 - Petite's 8th birthday!
Back in Paris!
We just arrived less than two hours ago after 9.5 hours from Switzerland.
We are staying in Bastille area - the 11eme - courtesy of hubbie's friend who has graciously lent us his apartment for the week. It's a fab apt, and at the same time I too easily remember how small everything is. I found that darling until Petite turned 2 and Bambina was on the way.
It's a one bedroom loft. The bed is a double bed. One person can sleep on the sofa.
Since my kids slept on me till just last week we can do three in a bed easy.
One thing I notice is how busy everything here is compared to sleepy Sausalito and even slower Bossolasco.
Am I getting old or is it just being in this trendy nightlife area which was never my thing even when I was in my twenties?
I'm acutely aware of the fact that I'm shlepping two young children around while people spill onto the streets from bars and cafes like in NYC.
A far cry from our quiet life in the 14eme, and practically dead life in the 15eme, where everything closes at 9pm.
So we arrive in the 11eme and because it's August and all of the Parisians have left town, we are able to park right in front of the building. We search through our emails and find the code to the building. Hubbie has been here once for a dinner.
We open the ancient gate and enter one of Paris' magical hidden gardens. I didn't realize before living here how many retreats and wonderful private passages are just beyond the doors on the street.
Apparently there's a sewage problem right in front of the building. We enter the second door which leads to a stone staircase that genuinely looks as if it has been here for centuries. No refab here. The staircase looks and smells like the wine cellars I visited with hubbie.
Petite comments on this immediately, holding her nose and escaping out of the stairwell to the garden passage. Bambina, ever the the thespian, exclaims, "I can't breathe!" and they both cover their mouths and breathe like they're escaping a fire all the way up the four flights.
When we get to the top, Hubbie realizes he is holding the wrong key, which them leads to a mad search on our phones for the directions only to realize the key is actually to another studio in which our key was left.
Hubbie and Petite race down the four flights, through the garden and back to the studio to retrieve the correct key.
Bambina, who didn't sleep a wink on the 9.5 hour drive, dramatically lies down on our duffle bag and proclaims that she is "exhausted" before then remembering that she has to pee "so bad I'm going to go right here! "
My old Paris panic is back - half worried that neighbors will complain either about my American kids yelling or if that Bambina will lose it right there and how will I clean pee off the fourth floor landing?
I half contemplate holding her butt out the hall window so that she can pee. Or racing her down to the garden to go. There's already a sewage problem anyway.
Luckily Petite is now racing up the stairs, holding her nose with one hand and the key with the other. We burst into the apt just in time to get Bambina on the toilet.
Petite immediately starts checking out our digs. I clock the number of precious breakables scattered around and command Bambina not to touch anything before I quickly sweep glass decanters, priceless sculptures and an unmounted glass framed photograph into a protected corner of the room.
The stairs which, would never pass code in the USA (but are similar to our uncoded ones in Sausalito) are an accident waiting to happen and it's less than ten minutes before Bambina takes a tumble down the ladder like staircase.
Soon, we corral the kids, toileted and watered (though Petite refuses to drink the bottled water in the apartment and Bambina insists it isn't cold enough for her tastes - where did these kids come from? Their mom (me!) is happy to drink water I hand filter from a lake on backpacking trips and they have an actual bottled water brand preference?) we tumble out onto rue Charronne and head for the main street to pick up some sushi (for us) and gelato (for the kiddos). I'll figure out where we will all sleep later.
Carrousel at Jardin Du Luxembourg - where Petite spent her entire babyhood.
The hugest coffee I have ever seen outside Starbucks
Jardin du Lux. First time we've ever been there when BOTH girls are old enough to go on the zip line.
Back in Paris!
We just arrived less than two hours ago after 9.5 hours from Switzerland.
We are staying in Bastille area - the 11eme - courtesy of hubbie's friend who has graciously lent us his apartment for the week. It's a fab apt, and at the same time I too easily remember how small everything is. I found that darling until Petite turned 2 and Bambina was on the way.
It's a one bedroom loft. The bed is a double bed. One person can sleep on the sofa.
Since my kids slept on me till just last week we can do three in a bed easy.
One thing I notice is how busy everything here is compared to sleepy Sausalito and even slower Bossolasco.
Am I getting old or is it just being in this trendy nightlife area which was never my thing even when I was in my twenties?
I'm acutely aware of the fact that I'm shlepping two young children around while people spill onto the streets from bars and cafes like in NYC.
A far cry from our quiet life in the 14eme, and practically dead life in the 15eme, where everything closes at 9pm.
So we arrive in the 11eme and because it's August and all of the Parisians have left town, we are able to park right in front of the building. We search through our emails and find the code to the building. Hubbie has been here once for a dinner.
We open the ancient gate and enter one of Paris' magical hidden gardens. I didn't realize before living here how many retreats and wonderful private passages are just beyond the doors on the street.
Apparently there's a sewage problem right in front of the building. We enter the second door which leads to a stone staircase that genuinely looks as if it has been here for centuries. No refab here. The staircase looks and smells like the wine cellars I visited with hubbie.
Petite comments on this immediately, holding her nose and escaping out of the stairwell to the garden passage. Bambina, ever the the thespian, exclaims, "I can't breathe!" and they both cover their mouths and breathe like they're escaping a fire all the way up the four flights.
When we get to the top, Hubbie realizes he is holding the wrong key, which them leads to a mad search on our phones for the directions only to realize the key is actually to another studio in which our key was left.
Hubbie and Petite race down the four flights, through the garden and back to the studio to retrieve the correct key.
Bambina, who didn't sleep a wink on the 9.5 hour drive, dramatically lies down on our duffle bag and proclaims that she is "exhausted" before then remembering that she has to pee "so bad I'm going to go right here! "
My old Paris panic is back - half worried that neighbors will complain either about my American kids yelling or if that Bambina will lose it right there and how will I clean pee off the fourth floor landing?
I half contemplate holding her butt out the hall window so that she can pee. Or racing her down to the garden to go. There's already a sewage problem anyway.
Luckily Petite is now racing up the stairs, holding her nose with one hand and the key with the other. We burst into the apt just in time to get Bambina on the toilet.
Petite immediately starts checking out our digs. I clock the number of precious breakables scattered around and command Bambina not to touch anything before I quickly sweep glass decanters, priceless sculptures and an unmounted glass framed photograph into a protected corner of the room.
The stairs which, would never pass code in the USA (but are similar to our uncoded ones in Sausalito) are an accident waiting to happen and it's less than ten minutes before Bambina takes a tumble down the ladder like staircase.
Soon, we corral the kids, toileted and watered (though Petite refuses to drink the bottled water in the apartment and Bambina insists it isn't cold enough for her tastes - where did these kids come from? Their mom (me!) is happy to drink water I hand filter from a lake on backpacking trips and they have an actual bottled water brand preference?) we tumble out onto rue Charronne and head for the main street to pick up some sushi (for us) and gelato (for the kiddos). I'll figure out where we will all sleep later.
Passage in the 11eme
Our stairwell - where the key was hidden and I contemplated peeing Bambina out the window.
1 comment:
I would have let them pee in the plant - perfect!
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