About 8 years ago, an old pal of mine turned 30 and hosted a two-day Bacchanalian birthday extravaganza in the countryside near Rome. It was a truly unforgettable experience filled with scavenger hunts, black-tie parties in castles and poolside drinks. On the last day, he took over the small town square for a luncheon at which he roasted a pig. A marching band appeared, and we sang Happy Birthday and danced in the streets. Upon departure, I half-expected to be handed a commemorative gold coin, minted by the town, to mark the occasion.
The people I surround myself with, they are not fans of moderation.
I am also the type that has a hard time saying no and adhering to sane limits. I never want to miss anything. I like do to things big and loud.
Fun for sure, but also crazy making.
Looking back on the past two stressful weeks, I think my nerves were so frayed because of course, as usual, I had way too much on my plate, but also, I was unraveling because I had no quiet time. At all. None.
The city was rainy and cold, every task seemed challenging, I was frustrated and tired, there seemed to be no room for anything but aggravation.
This weekend, thankfully, peace finally found its way back to town, and restored my sanity.
Saturday morning, we Parisians awoke to bright, warm sunshine. If you have ever endured a damp winter here, you know how exciting this is.
I opened the window, still in my nightgown, and felt the sun on my face. I looked up at the sky and half expected a choir of angels to sing down upon me from the heavens.
Sweet relief.
Cutting it damn close, with just a few days to spare, the mythic ‘April in Paris’ had finally made its entrance.
Worried it was an illusion, I didn’t even shower. I wanted out of the house. Now.
I called my friend S. and she had the great idea to go to the Jardin du Luxembourg.
The Luxembourg garden is one of those places that Americans fall in love with when they first come to Paris. It is so magical they can’t quite believe that it exists and even better, that they are fortunate enough to find themselves standing in the middle of it.
But after a while, they become locals and move to the other side of town where the rents are more affordable, they get embroiled in the daily business of living, and they sometimes forget that the Jardin is just a metro ride away.
Yep, that’s me I am talking about up there. I am the stupid American who forgot about the Luxembourg Gardens.
Moron.
Anyway, as S. and I entered the park from the St. Germain side, a warm breeze gently lifted the tips of my hair. Almost instantly I felt a lump in my throat.
I am not much of a crier, but beauty, folks, it moves me.
The tulips were in full bloom, the miniature sailboats had unfurled their handkerchief sails in the main ‘bassin’. In the distance you could hear the Summery sound of laughter mixed with racquets hitting tennis balls. You know, that satisfying clip-clop, almost like horses hooves.
We pulled two chairs together so we could prop up our feet. We shared an apple, got sunburned, laughed, smelled the butter and pickles wafting over from someone else’s sandwich. I sneezed from the freshly cut grass.
We watched a little girl cry hysterically as her father tried to talk her into a donkey ride, while another boy, sat regally on his beast looking like Napoleon heading to battle.
And then today, again. Warm. I woke up with my hair sticky on my wet neck. Kicking off my heavy down comforter, before even pulling open the curtains, I knew it was another perfect day.
I knew the neighborhood folks would be dotting the edges of the canal a few steps from where I live, sharing a bottle of wine and dangling their feet over the water.
Again, I couldn’t wait to dive into the city. My city.
Because I first came here for 3 months, nearly 4 years ago, people back in The States often ask me when I am coming home.
During the damp, impossibly dreary, rainy days of winter when I am trapped indoors and NOOS telecom makes my life a living hell, I feel like I can’t get back soon enough.
But on glorious weekends like these, when the weather waves its magic wand over the city, illuminating it with indescribable energy and beauty… turning it into a heaven on earth, I am tempted to answer:
Never.
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