Samedi le 18 Septembre
Went down for breakfast early, gulped some juice and coffee, and gobbled some pastries. We paid our balance to madame and she gave us a little baby bottle of Calvados as a gift. I ran upstairs to get the book I had brought from home (‘A Portrait of Canada’) to give to her as a gift. She seemed pleased with it, reading the inscription aloud and calling us, “…tres gentil, tres adorable…’, and exclaiming over the fact that it was actually written in French. She then walked over to one of the very large, antique, free-standing cupboards in the common room and retrieved a little tin of butter cookies that she insisted we take. Farewell kisses all around, and a wish from madam of many returns to France.
Everything loaded into the car, we made our way back to Caen to drop the Citröen (dommage) and get the train back to Paris. We meant to fill the tank up before we left it in the car park, but the GPS guided us to a dépanneur rather than a service station, so…it got returned with a nearly empty tank. Youch!
We reached the station in plenty of time to have a café crème (from a vending machine) and to make it to the train as soon as the platform was posted. Just to be on the safe side, I showed our tickets to a steward and asked where we should sit. The result was a relaxing ride into Paris without the discomfort of feeling yourself being talked about disapprovingly.
We arrived at the station and got a taxi to the hotel. The room was ready so we dropped our bags and after a quick lunch (3rd croque monsieur in a week…un-knowable glass of rosé) we entered the jungle that was Galleries Lafayette. The joint was jumpin’; it was Saturday after all. I knew that this store was not cheap, so the main goal was not so much to actually shop there as to get a picture of the famous dome. There was an info desk nearby so we grabbed a map of the store. The lower level was devoted to shoes and also had a souvenir department so we made haste. There were items of every possible description to suit tooreests of every persuasion, including some gloriously tacky stuff. Anyway, having accomplished the vital goal of securing prezzies for our workmates, we emerged back into the Parisian sunshine in search of treasures for ourselves. Into the madhouses of Zara and Mango, the forays were successful and we were on our way to find some refreshment when we saw a kiosk selling all manner of feathery headgear. Of course, I could not pass without trying on a couple of these wondrous (made in China) Parisian confections. Some of you may recall my desire a year ago to celebrate my 40th birthday by having my picture taken wearing a chic black dress, impossibly high heels and a preposterously huge hat with the Eiffel Tower in the background. I ended up at Versailles instead that day (no disappointment there) but the longing for some plumage remained.
After a number of tries I decided on a black headband with feathers and a birdcage veil. It’s so Parisian. I will wear it somewhere, I am promising myself.
We paused for a libation, then Reyn headed back to the hotel with our purchases and I went back to the furor of les Galleries for a few last souvenirs.
After freshening up at the hotel we took the métro to Trocadéro as had been planned. We sat down at the Café Trocadéro, ordered some wine and toasted Paris one last time. As we ate our pasta, the sun slipped slowly away, darkness descended and the tower lit up. We walked closer, lingering to take pictures and video of the 22:00 twinkle show, and then headed back to the room for final packing and our last sleep in Paris.
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