Red Robins of Spring (Or Pidgeons)
There’s been a spring in my step that hasn’t left since early last week. There is a certain levity in everything and I can’t seem to stop smiling. But why should I? Between Amsterdam, and my dear friend A arriving from home this weekend for his Spring Break, life hustles by at a rapid pace, but not so much that I can’t step outside and let the sun soak in.
Indeed it only recently dawned on me that my birthday is in less than a month’s time, but again I find myself content. Indeed as I met with A for an afternoon rendez-vous I was surprised at how comfortable I felt showing him around the city, and even something as simple as crossing the street, I felt less like the gawking tourist and more, “Let me show you my haunts, my city”
I’m not quite sure when Paris claimed her as mine, but even with a fair dearth of grass and squirrels around the city, I feel comfortable riding the lines, and walking along the rue’s. It probably also helps that my French is coming along, especially as Phillipe has mandated that henceforth only French will be spoken in the house – not withstanding my sister’s arrival or the occasional English slip.
Last weekend was Saint Patrick’s day and I went out to an Irish bar – yes, they exist here in Paris – and I spent the night merrily tucked away between Spanish and English nursing my drink and only later when the temperature had dropped significantly enough that we had to huddle against in other in search of warmth as we ate Kebab I realized that time was slipping away through my fingers like grains of sand and that I had to get home, lest I turn into a pumpkin. (I’m kidding about the pumpkin part, mostly)
We kiss each other goodbye, twice, on the cheeks and promise to call for next week.
The weather can be a bit temperamental, for last Friday it was a perfect 26 degrees and sunny like you wouldn’t believe, and this week it’s dropped back to 11-13 degrees, but with a scarf and a leather jacket, the time to go out and enjoy the city – now packed with tourists from all over – has arrived.
There’s been agricultural fairs, concerts, museums, movies, impromptu moments, and going wherever our feet will lead us.
Tonight there is a sabre practice instead of the usual epee – something formulated specifically for me – I cannot say how exited I am; and tomorrow a full day with A.
The time to set the clocks one hour forward has yet to arrive (this Sunday at 0100 hrs) but Google has a drawing of the printemps already up and – perhaps the best news yet – the chicken farmers strike ended.
I will post pictures when I can – mostly I am so wrapped up in the moment that I often forget my camera, or have others to take pictures – and I hope to convey some of the joy that life in Paris in the spring can bring.
It beats writing essay’s any day. (Although yes, I still get French homework)