In Paris, even doing laundry is a little adventure.
When I was searching for an apartment, months and months ago, I had a few items on my wish list: good location, two beds, free WiFi, and a washing machine.
Three out of four ain't bad, right?
Today was laundry day so we bundled up our dirties and trekked a few blocks to the laundromat, or as they call it here, the Laverie Libre Service.
We read the instructions - easy.
Paid for our soap, filled the washers, and then inserted our money for the wash cycle.
Then the fun part - waiting. I actually don't mind the laundromat. I used to kind of enjoy going when I was in university because it allowed me to chill for a while. I like to watch the clothes go round and round in the washer and dryer.
Each item gets its five seconds of fame as it is featured in the window.
After about an hour or so, we were ready to fold, pack and lug our clean clothes back up all those stairs (I counted 107 today) to the apartment.
Then we left again, because today was also grocery day. Well, every day is grocery day with a fridge the size of a computer monitor, but since the big store was closed yesterday, we were in even more need of alimentation. So, we headed to our favourite place, the Monoprix.
I always read about the markets and was told that real Parisians buy their fruit and vegetables there. On Saturday, we happened upon one of these street markets and bought some beans, tomatoes and cherries. The beans and cherries were fine, but the tomatoes were rotten. Vendors do not want you touching their food so they pick out the produce themselves. Big mistake. We will not do that again.
The Monoprix has beautiful tomatoes - tomatoes that we can pick up, test for firmness, check for soft spots.
I had to show you the sugar. Too cute. Sugar Daddy.
In the afternoon I went to the Luxembourg Gardens with my book, a bottle of water, and a pear. I had a lovely hour reading under the trees. Then the sky went dark, the wind picked up, and there seemed to be a mass exodus of people out of the park.
This is why...
Total deluge. When I noticed the wind was blowing sand all over the place, I packed up and headed towards the gates. I was having a nice chat with an older gentlemen (half in French, half in English) on the way. By the time we had reached the sidewalk, the skies had opened up and the rain was pelting down. Within about 5 seconds I was drenched! My shoes were soaked, my sweater was dripping, my hair was sopping and there was water running all down me.
Mon parapluie? In my suitcase back at the apartment, of course.
I took refuge in a Mcdonald's restaurant (kind of ironic, n'est-ce pas?).
I made it home, wet but safe and the rain cleared up.
After supper, Sandi and I went on our evening walk. My father used to call this kind of stroll a "post-prandial perambulation". We wandered about our little area, but Sandi skipped her crêpe tonight because she'd bought a croissant and a tarte aux framboises earlier in the day. Her usual crêpe-chef wasn't working tonight anyway.
We stopped to visit our new friend Marie Noelle, who makes the most beautiful jewelry (which we keep buying). She also has the best stories.
And then we went across the Quai to Notre-Dame to search for the centre of Paris. And we found it!
Notre-Dame is so beautiful at night.
Jusqu'à demain, mes amis...