• 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.

Our last full day in Paris. I’ll concentrate on the highlights, but it’s not quite done. I’ll share some odds and ends with you tomorrow.

Then we’ll be done.

We had our breakfast and walked down Rue de Rennes toward the Seine.

I never get tired of seeing the wrought iron balconies or the beautiful color of the stone.

Two cafés: Café de Flore and Les Deux Magots. Both very famous and known for the literary figures who frequented them. There is a church right next to Magots, Église de Saint Germain des Prés. It’s beautiful and we visited it both last year and this year. It’s the oldest church in Paris.

This year, there’s some renovation work going on inside, so parts of the nave and sanctuary are unavailable. It has the most beautiful little garden and a concert series. On the fence surrounding the garden, we saw this:

Needless to say, we were greatly interested in this poster and in the man who is behind this series, “I’m not a trophy.” His name is Arno Elias and he runs an organization “dedicated to creating greater awareness for the rapid extinction of endangered species around the world.” Elias is a French artist and photographer. The ambassador for the campaign is model and actress, Cara Delevingne.

After spending quite a bit of time looking at this provocative piece of art and wishing we could see more, we continued walking a few feet, crossed the street, and then realized that the gallery hosting the exhibition was right there! So we went in.

I cannot tell you how powerful it is. We really wanted to buy a print but the one we wanted was no longer in stock.

A couple of the originals on display:

This lion was our favorite, but every piece was extraordinary.

And one more:

This was one of the most powerful parts of our trip for me. And totally unexpected.

Taken from upstairs in the gallery; Les Deux Magots on the left, Café Bonaparte on the right.

Yes, we stopped at Ladurée and bought one more box of macarons.

I ended up carrying this box by hand through the airport, onto the plane, and all the way to the cottage.

Melanie mentioned that neither she or her husband like meringue, which is the base for macarons. Neither do I. But I LOVE macarons. They’re another thing entirely.

On to the Seine.

We passed by this door.

And came to the Seine.

That’s Île de la Cité to the right, which is where we’re headed.

But first, Don asked someone to take a picture of us.

Don is holding the ubiquitous Ladurée bag.

We crossed over to the Île, and walked down the street bordering the Seine until we got to Notre Dame, which can only be seen from a distance right now. Then we turned left and headed toward a street that might take us to Sainte-Chapelle, an extraordinary gem that I learned about last year on Instagram, after  we’d visited Paris. We’re pretty good at figuring out how to get someplace in Paris and our instincts were right. We ended up here:

The gates to the medieval Palais de la Cité, the residence of the Kings of France until the 14th century. The chapel lies within the exterior walls surrounding the Palace (now an administrative complex) in the courtyard, something I didn’t know until we got there. The line forms on the outside, and winds its way inside the walls. (That’s the spire of Sainte-Chapelle on the left.)

Sainte-Chapelle was “commissioned by King Louis IX of France to house his collection of Passion relics, including Christ’s Crown of Thorns.” – Wikipedia. (The crown was eventually moved to Notre Dame and it survived last year’s fire.) The chapel was commissioned in 1238 and consecrated in 1248.

It was damaged during the French Revolution, restored in the 19th century, and the most recent restoration – to clean the stained glass and the stonework – was completed in 2015. “It has one of the most extensive 13th-century stained glass collections in the world.” – Wikipedia.

The exterior, including the Rose Window.

A peek at the stained glass.

We went inside to this beauty:

An exquisite little chapel. It was beautiful. But I was confused because it didn’t look the photographs I had seen and I became worried that I had come to the wrong place. Eventually, we realized there were narrow winding stone steps that would take us upstairs.

To this:

The tile floor.

From just outside the entrance.

Pictures cannot come close to doing it justice. The light, the intricate stained glass – all of it designed to tell stories – the wood, the carving, the soaring windows; I have never seen anything as beautiful as this priceless treasure.

It is exquisite.

A perfect place to visit on our last day in Paris.

We returned to the Jardin du Luxembourg to watch some pétanque later in the day, but I’ll write about that tomorrow. And I’ll share some other thoughts.

Don’s under the weather today, so I’m off to check on him.

Happy Saturday.