what i did for a week in paris

If you had told me last year that my mother and I would go to Paris for a week, I would have told you that you were a frakking nut. I (and my mother) just don't do crazy, fun, amazing things like that. And then, something really funny happened. My mother and I started talking about how we should go to Paris.

If you have never been, I am totally sad for you. Paris is amazing. It is truly a special place...mostly known as the city of lovers...but as a single woman with a cat....I found it a special place to check-out with my 60+ mother. It just goes to show that even if you are the target demographic for the Lifetime channel, you can still have a nice time.

So, we bought our tickets, and my mother began a systematic study of maps and books about Paris. And then, there we were, climbing onto an airplane clutching our passports and phrase book ready to be those awful American tourists.

And awful American tourists we were! We took a boat tour, visited museums, walked around churches, ate our weight in butter, took in a ballet, conquered a cooking class, and ate more bread then Rome on Communion Sunday. We saw art that is featured in really good movies, and looked in the shops of windows that we could never afford. We bungled the language, and argued about which direction the theatre was from the train station. We sat in Notre Dame and listened to an organ concert, and judged everyone for their endless smoking. We laughed at ourselves as we tried to be the sophisticated types we're not, and swooned over omelets. We held hands as we prayed in 500 year-old churches, and wished that my dad was there to share everything with us. It was everything I had hoped the trip was and more. We spent an obscene amount of money on Business class plane tickets, and loved every second of travel.

When I imagined myself in Paris, it was never wandering about with my mother. I mean, who would imagine that? All I know, is that the trip was more special than I had ever imagined it could be, and you haven't lived until you are sitting across from someone you love at a little table in a bistro in Paris...ideally eating a baguette.