• Don is sick with a bad cold. Yesterday morning, I suggested he read the history of Shakespeare and Company (which is utterly delightful and quirky) instead of his usual heavy reading; currently, he’s reading about the Resistance during WWII.

He agreed. He’s loving the book, as I knew he would.

This morning, as I was walking by to make our second cup of coffee, he said “I love Paris.”

And we do. Both of us. We feel a deep bond to that city and, far from feeling that we’ve ‘done’ Paris, we just want to go back. Again and again.

Yesterday, I said I wish I’d been brave enough as a young adult to move there and become an expat. But I wasn’t that brave, and of course, I wouldn’t have met Don if I had taken that path. Nevertheless, I would have loved to embrace life in that city.

• Some thoughts from people we met:

The young gentleman who owns the vegan hot dog shop told Don that there are only two places in the world he would be too frightened to visit: Saudi Arabia and the United States. He said there’s too much violence in both places. He’s right.

And one of the gentlemen who work the front desk in the hotel told Don that he loved NYC because the buildings are so colorful. The very thing we love about Paris, the golden tones of the buildings, is monotonous to him. I get it. Visiting another place that is so different from what you know is enchanting. I’m rather over NYC, though it has its moments. He’s rather over Paris, or at least the look of it.

So interesting.

• Thoughts on pétanque:

Contemplating how close the boules are to the jack.

Standing within the ring to throw the boule.

Love this picture. Everyone is riveted.

The guy on the right was my favorite. He was usually holding a stogie in his mouth. Very funny, very vocal, very good at pétanque, and every so often, he threw a wink our way.

What both Don and I love about this game is its seeming simplicity, though it really isn’t, the fact that anyone can play it, and the camaraderie and conviviality that surround it. Every age is represented, as well as many ethnicities. Many of the players are real characters, in the best possible way. Everyone takes it seriously, but not so seriously that they cannot cheer on the other team, or stop to laugh, or acknowledge their own mistakes with a shrug. There’s none of the ‘look at me, look what I did!’ crap that you find in so many American sports.

This game is about sportsmanship, skill, and friendship. I lost count of how many times I saw a new player appear at the courts, ready for a game, but taking time to approach everyone for a kiss on both sides of the cheeks. Everyone seemingly knows everyone. They love greeting each other. They have a history together. They applaud each other. They laugh together.

It’s so civilized, in the best possible way. We learned a lot about it this time around, thanks to the young man I wrote about earlier in the week, who took the time to explain things to us. We love nothing more than sitting in the sun, watching a game or two.

Don dreams of being asked to play with them someday. Wouldn’t that be neat?

• When we did watch television in our hotel room, we watched a network called MezzoTV. It’s an arts station, based in Paris, and available throughout much of Europe and Canada. We loved the live recordings of orchestras, beautifully captured by the cameras. They also broadcast jazz and dance. It’s a gorgeous station and we hoped we would be able to subscribe to it when we got home. But it’s not available yet.

It was such a lovely escape from the news, an escape into the beauty of the arts. I messaged them on their Facebook page to see if they had plans for expanding into America and they said they hoped to in the future. Fingers crossed. We could use daily doses of MezzoTV.

Playing chess by the pétanque courts.

• We purchased this little book by Victor Hugo at one of the bouquinistes along the Seine. It was only 5 euros. As with all the antique books at the stalls, it was wrapped in a protective, clear acetate covering. We didn’t open it until we got to the cottage.

It’s very old. Imagine my delight when I saw the text:

It’s a play!

Meant to be.

• At the airport, Don and I found the coziest chairs!

Yes, there I am eating yet another macaron from the box we purchased the day before.

Ironically, just behind me and to the right was a Ladurée outpost in the airport.

I’m sure I’ll have more to share at some point, but I think I’ve covered most everything. We had a wonderful time. Couldn’t have asked for anything better.

We are in love, completely besotted, with Paris.

Happy Sunday.