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…for me it’s not just another day ~ I am in Paris.


I prefer arriving in the early morning…that moment when it’s neither light nor dark, when the purple-blue sky gracefully gives in to another day.  But for me, it’s not just another day ~ I am in Paris.

Weary and wired all at once, I make my way through the familiar ritual…immigration, baggage claim, a quick stop at the ATM for a handful of Euros.  There was a time when I’d head straight for the RER train into Paris, but the independent-woman charm of wrangling my bags on public transport wore off long ago, no matter how light I pack and, hard as I try, light I do not pack.

Taking my place in the taxi que, noticing that full daylight has arrived in all her glory, even if a bit gray, I pull my favorite scarf from my bag ~ the one that goes with everything.  The one that’s been through long layovers, lost luggage, missed trains and romantic evening strolls with me.  Today we will ride into Paris together yet again.

My cell phone buzzes as I am settling into my taxi, a newish, sleek black Mercedes ~ nice luck of the draw, that.  I hand the driver a scrap of paper on which I’d scribbled the address of the St. Germain apartment I’d rented for this visit. He nods, already pulling away from the curb.  I click on my phone and read the text that pops up: “Bonjour, mon amour ~ you’re late”.

I let the hand holding my cell phone drop to my lap and look out the window, a light rain is falling now.  How on earth does he know that I’m here, let alone that my flight was late?  Then I smile.  I don’t care.  It means he is here in the city…somewhere.


*While the Boutique here at The Armchair Parisian is very real indeed, the stories and characters are a product of imagination.  Please enjoy them in the adventurous spirit in which they were intended.

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