Eclectic travelers

I came to Paris to find the muse that inspired The Lost Generation of writers like Hemingway and the force that motivated the great painters like Picasso and Monet, but I did not find it. I was not moved to write. I was driven to take photographs. Does this mean that the old muse is dead? I don't think so. For some it might be there. For me it has been replaced by a happy curiosity. The old creative energy is in the parks. It is the promenades; the small cafes, the Boulanger es, the fruit stands, the wine stores, chocolate stores and the movement of people. The Des Halles is the only exception. It is the Mall of Paris and as such it is the opposite of what my Paris is. There is no sunshine here. No street corner buzz of conversation, only a drive to consume without the Bonjour and au revoir of our daily interactions in the street stores. Instead it is the hypnotic use of lights and music and motion. I must stay away from this monstrosity. We have walked so many neighbor

There are benefits to a long stay like this month in Paris That are not apparent in the course schedule, purpose Become evident as time passes. With just two days left in our journey and seven weeks behind us I am aware of how at home I feel and the fact That returning to our permanent home is not urgent.  We-have Traveled Almost every subway line and can make transfers with a glance as we are swept along with the crowds. I am Such Treated with curtesy Each one because Because of age and cane and we know how to make connections with ease. Now we are on a railroad car to go to Reims and again we-have lost the anxiety of our first ventures. We just walk in to the station and the train to ease it like it is routine. (Footnote here is this process They Asked for our passports qui we have-nots-been carrying. It worked out fine goal Reminds us That we are still officiellement foreign.). We greet friends Who come to visit and find shops and streets with ease. This is what we hoped for. We Kno