Je suis arrivée

I arrived in Paris, Tuesday, February 18, after surviving all the usual horrors of flying. Despite the jet lag, despite even my irritation at having lugged two heavy suitcases across the most unnecessarily expansive airport I've ever encountered, I found myself instantly and entirely transformed, refreshed, by lovely Paris. By the particularly crisp though warm afternoon, glowing with that deep, rich 2pm sunshine. 

My generous French "mom," or more appropriately "grand-mom" greeted me downstairs ("Ee-lees-a-bet? Ees dat you? I am coming to geet you.") and took me to her room where she flung open the windows and pulled me onto the balcony. "Look at thees. Eesn't eet beauteeful. Look at dee garden beelow. We have dee most wonderfool view of dee cee-ty. Feel How warm eet ees today." 

She took me to Le Jardin du Luxembourg. To get there, we had to pass through long rows of strangely knotted chestnut trees growing above pristine strips of grass and iron benches. Just imagine the illustrations from "Madeline."

The garden itself is a little nonexistent at the moment, as there are no flowers. But word has it that everything will bud and bloom in a little over two weeks (including the infinite rows of chestnut trees mentioned above). Everything surrounds the incredible senate building, Le Palais du Luxembourg which was commissioned by Marie de Medici, Louis IV's Italian bride. Tennis courts, a crèpe stand, a charming wooden carrousel--all are on the premises. When we got back she served me brioche with apricot jam and tea, which I ate at least twice a day until it was gone. 

Video of the carrousel

Palais du Luxembourg, a different day

(courtesy of/stolen from Sarah)

Carrousel

Fountain at the Luxembourg Gardens

As long as we're on the subject of food, I know it's a bit cliché, but everything--EVERYTHING--tastes better here. The yogurt is like custard. Everything, fresh. The butter, even if cold, melts onto bread like...well, like buttah. And we always eat cheese or fruit after a meal. What's more, I was quite surprised, that first day, to find that Perrine serves me my food on a platter. Did I mention that her mother co-wrote "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" with Julia Child?