Things I Miss Most When Away From Paris

Even before we approached Charles De Gaulle I found myself full of anticipation to get back to all the wonderful things I missed most being away from Paris.    The weather, however, was not one of them!

When the pilot announced that the temperature was only a freezing 3 C, cloudy and drizzly, you could hear the disappointing gasps in the cabin.  Ah, welcome to late April in Paris, where it can sometimes be as chilly as February.

As in compensation, the  pilot glided us down like we were softly dropped from a cloud making the landing as smooth as ice.  A good half of my fellow passengers clapped, including me.

Whether they were applauding the smooth landing or just happy to be back in France,  I will never know, but my applause  was for both.

The mighty Mississippi may be mythic, but I was delighted to find myself back along the splendid banks of the Seine!

All I know is that I felt relieved and happy to be back home, despite the lingering winter weather after the  very long sleepless flights from Saint Louis and Atlanta.

My legs ached from having been cramped in limited space and I longed to be able to finally stretch out on my puffy thick mattress to sleep.

Getting back into the city on the train ended up taking almost twice the time due to a strike of the Sncf (French Railways).  As we gathered our luggage, a sign warned that the RER B trains were “perturbé”.  Another strike of the SNCF!

I was grateful that at least a  few trains were still running, but for some unexplained reason you had to change at Gare du Nord station, in order to continue. To further confuse you, they even changed platforms where the RER B usually continues its journey direct without any changes.

I felt sorry for the tourists, with maps in hands, not understanding what was happening.  Leave it up to the French to complicate a two car funeral!

After living here so long, you come to expect the “unexpected” like an everyday occurrence, and just shrug your shoulders like the character above.  It’s like you have to put up with these typically French inconveniences and  suffer through them in order to enjoy all the other wonderfully things that keeps you in love with Paris.

Besides dreaming of my mattress, I could almost taste crunching into a golden brown crusty baguette.  Creamy  hues inside with large holes throughout, called alveoli; a good baguette smells as heavenly as it tastes.

Humble it may be, in that it is made with only flour, water and salt, but absolutely majestic in the hands of artisanal bakers like my neighborhood favorite Dominique Saibron, who orders his organic flours made specifically for him.

I miss croissants almost as much too, though I only allow myself to have them occasionally.  Ditto for all the other morning pastries that the French gorge upon daily called viennoiseries.

Opening up the door of my apartment after being away for 12 days felt almost like I first saw it after being renovated.  It’s really nice to fall in love with wherever you live more than once!

My balcony garden looked great, as my sweet concierge had kept it watered for me while away.  A great surprise awaited me, long awaited, and just newly emerged for the first time!

My Muscat de Hamburg grapevine is now three years old growing in the largest pot on the balcony, and has never produced any grapes.  Delighting my eyes were three tiny baby grape clusters of buds looking promisely for a fall harvest!

My olive tree was also heavy with sweet smelling blossoms, which I generally have each year, but unfortunately only a few go on to become full grown olives.

My lemon tree studded with baby green yellow lemons survived from being blown away by the wind while away.  This will certainly be my largest harvest so far in 8 years.

The glories of French cheese is way too expansive to even begin to describe, but I was craving several of my favourites like a beautiful chevre fermier, a Chaource and a Mont d’Or, which as a winter cheese had drifted away from the shelves during my trip.

It was wonderful to  shop again Saturday at les marchés Parisiennes that each arrondissement has to get the freshest of fruits and vegetables, always along with some upbeat and flirtatious chatter from the merchants.

Our fish man seemed happy to see us again, cordially asking about our trip.  It is always a difficult choice to decide what to buy, but the wild caught sea bass looked tempting enough, destined to be baked under a mound of coarse sea salt that I served with a beurre rosé.

Sunday, the sun came out in force helping warm up the temperatures enough to be inviting of a stroll through some of my favourite landscapes around Ile Saint Louis.

The spring garden on the side of Notre Dame is my usual starting point, then in crossing over the Seine, I end up spending time mindlessly gazing at the street performers on Pont Saint Louis, who always gather a crowd.

I resisted an ice cream from Berthillon, knowing I was making a luscious raspberry tart later for dessert.   The air was lightly perfumed as only newly sprouting spring buds can uniquely do.

The Seine looked tranquil rolling by the steep walls around Ile Saint Louis, with only a few squatting along the banks.

I really missed my adorable small galley shaped kitchen, especially my blue llve Italian stove, with its indoor grill that does a remarkable job of char grilling meats.

If you follow my blog regularly, you already know about my obsession of eating my beautifully prepared dinners by candlelight.  I never tire of the view overlooking the rooftops of Paris with the twinkling lights below occasionally enhanced by a moon above.

It is a nice treat as well, to go down again to my cave to choose a wine for the night, from one of my favorite vintners.  France is truly a heaven for wine lovers at prices you would never find in the states for the quality of wine offered.

I came home brimming full of gratitude and joy seeing the grandchildren and my son. Each moment with them was priceless.

Irreplaceable and treasured moments and memories difficult to leave behind, especially those last hugs.

I many ways, Paris is not easy to leave for any time either, so coming home is always a celebration.  I have never taken being here for granted and remain extremely grateful each day to be able to live in the most beautiful city on earth!