A 6:00 a.m. alarm and an hour-long flight got us back to Paris from Bristol. I felt exhausted, sick, and dirty, so naturally I got into a kayak. Clément, Sylvia, Hugo and I floated down a small, picturesque river framed by stone bridges and weeping willows.
The drive/walk to Le Paradis du Fruit for post-paddle refreshments felt infinite. I was so dehydrated, my body considered fainting on the sidewalk. Somehow I made it to the ice cream parlor and inhaled fresh juice and a bowl of passion fruit sorbet decorated with maybe seven types of fruit. My emotions changed so visibly after eating. I’m like a Tamagotchi or something.
The record heat wave coming over Paris could be felt everywhere. Temperatures were probably higher back in Texas, but it’s different story when there are no air conditioners or fans.
We tried to cool off with cocktails. I didn’t know that rum was particularly popular among the French, but it’s been everywhere. So has Jean-Paul Gaultier Coke:
In the evening we sat out in the garden for hours, eating a three-course hamburger dinner with the usual group, plus Hugo’s brother Tim and his girlfriend. (I couldn’t believe these fromage afficianodos were enjoying the plasticine sheets of American cheese on their burgers.) We Skyped with Jon and Amy for a bit.
Next thing I knew, I’d slept 10 hours on hardwood floor and woke up to a melody coming from a bell tower.
My last activity in Paris was a little photo expedition.
Flea market dress, vintage Coach purse and Bass loafers