Pancakes and Paris

Did I say a couple days? As if there weren’t going to be stories in the meantime. Nancy got to Paris yesterday morning. While waiting in the hotel lobby for her to arrive, I struck up a conversation with the most “unfun” woman. She said she was from New York and I said I live there, too, what part of New York?

“No, actual New York. I lived in Manhattan for thirty years.”

I said I’ve lived in Saratoga and went to school at Syracuse.

“Oh. Upstate. Well your school is in quite a big scandal right now.”

Yeah, I know… PSU and SU. They are very different cases.

“Well, I don’t know about that. Your school is in it’s own big scandal.”

Okay. Where do you live now?

“Florida. Boca Raton.”

Lovely! I’ve only ever been to Florida once – Jacksonville.

(scoffs) “Hah well that’s very different from Boca Raton.”

Nancy arrived just then, putting an end to that conversation. Ugh.

We asked if the room was or would be ready shortly and our receptionist said, “Yes, it should be ready shortly…

if you’d like to sit and have a cup of coffee our lobby

Or go into our restaurant and have breakfast

Or if you’d like to go ahead and take a walk

or visit a museum or something…”

Our room wouldn’t be ready for hours. We took that walk. Europeans like to serve coffee in sizes you sip slowly and after an overnight plane for Nancy and due to my need to have coffee in amounts I can chug, our first stop on Thanksgiving was… Starbucks!

The Starbucks here have big fluffy chairs and chandeliers, multiple stories and look like palaces. Very ritzy.

And because they were there and made us laugh, Nancy had Starbucks pancakes.


Girl talk – two hours, round one – happened in that Starbucks.

We were right near the Louvre and wandered for quite awhile, really only with the aim of seeing the postage stamp that is the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo and Napoleon’s apartment furnishings. We never found the direct route to anywhere, so we saw quite a bit more, like this skeptical baby.


We got back to the hotel and asked if our room was ready.

“Yes, your room is ready.
(four seconds later)
Let me just call housekeeping, she is on the stairs and she will let me know if your room is ready.”

Huh. Fifteen minutes later, we’ve heard no news. Is the housekeeping lady still on the stairs? Should someone go check on her?

Our beds make us giggle. Together but separate. But pretty much together.


On our way out again, I stopped in a pharmacy to grab some sort of Sudafed. “Hi, I need something for sinuses, like a Suda… Suda…” I don’t know what they call it here or what the drugs involved are, so I’m pointing at my nose.

The woman handed me a box of Sudafed. Oh.


That can’t be enough Sudafed. I need more than one dose. “Do you have multiples?”

The lady looked at me funny and said this was all they had. I decided I’d just have to come back again in four hours. It turns out it was a box of fifteen doses – cheapest Sudafed ever. No wonder the lady looked at me funny when I asked for more.

We grabbed a quick snack, went to L’Orangerie to see Monet’s waterlillies, raced to buy a pair of respectable shoes for a night out (my sandals are now held together by superglue glued to superglue) and ran back to the hotel. We have thirty minutes to be ready and on our way to Thanksgiving dinner at the Eiffel Tower.

We blew the fuse in our room. Half of the getting-ready process happened the dark, I realized I’d lost a bra somewhere in the last day (dangit!), we’re digging through bags, we’re running late… Our hotel room looks like a crime scene.

We made it to dinner, and the top of a tower. We were in a cloud up there, but what an awesome night.











It’s good to have a girlfriend to be goofy with again.



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