I'm leaving Paris about this time tomorrow. I've checked in to the flight.
Do I want to go? No.
Have I loved my time here? Yes.
Am I coming back? Of course.
Other than having a virus that sapped my energy and my lung capacity for a week, it's been amazing. The last two days I've walked over 20,000 steps each day. My body is asking nicely that I take it a little easier today. Just be kind to myself.
Nah, go hard or go home, I reckon.
I know that I have to leave my digs at 7.15 tomorrow morning, which is a shame, as I rather like this little flat, a perch on top of a little hotel on the Boulevard de Temple. The wifi is good, the bed comfortable, there's a big bathtub and a view of the Marais rooftops. And a coffee machine.
And after a relaxing morning, it's time to look at the day. There's so much I could do:
- Sainte Chappelle (Next time)
- Go out to Chartres (Also next time)
- The Jewish Museum and the Picasso Museum (big possibility)
- The Rodin Musuem (a possibility)
- A visit to Fragonard to pick up some soaps for a friend. (Too easy - there's a store about a kilometre away.)
- I could sit on the 69 bus and ride from one end of the city to the other for the price of a bus ticket.
- I could walk along the Seine and count the bridges.
- A long lunch with a final Steak Tartare (boring when you're on your own)
- Find a few more churches to have a poke around in (very easy to do)
- I've got a 4 p.m. ticket to get me in the Louvre - hopefully the crowds might have thinned out by then.
- Or I could sit in a chair and write in the Luxembourg Gardens. nibbling on a Jambon Buerre.
- And maybe another visit to Shakespeare and Company.
- And some last-minute shopping. What does one take their cat sitters to bribe them, so you get the cat back?
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