Paris, Day One : Knowledge + Action = Power

Paris is hot. 107 degrees today as, laden with jet lag and the stifling inability to adequately communicate, we roamed her steaming streets. Initial forays were made by Griffin and I to find the river. My fogged brain was sure of what Scott, David's American expat friend who came bearing keys to the apartment and chocolate croissants, told mune to do to find it, though I should have believed my often more well-guided son, as we tromped needlessly in the wrong direction before he turned us around. We did find the Seine and walked along its beach chair strewn path before heading back to the streets. We found Pylones, our favorite store in London and we joined a throng beneath some misting devices in front of Paris' City Hall before heading back.

Back at the apartment, I tried to roust the girls from sleep. It was 1 pm, and I believed they needed to stay awake for some of the day. Succeeding in waking Berit, I immediately dozed off next to Griffin. Two hours passed before Berit was rousting us, insisting that caffeine and food had become a matter, not just of desire, but of emergency.

We were sent to Rue Quin Compoix by David, my French counterpart (who I believe is actually is Australian) to find L'Imprevu Cafe. The food choices there were minimal, but we did quaf chai glaces and lattes beneath the blessed breeze of a ceiling fan. Plus two with people interactions since Jean Luis, a white-haired octogenarian took pity upon us, showing us the way as he and I made extremely small talk in each other's language. And, after being admonished by Rowan for reverting quickly to English at the cafe, I asked the barman to teach me to say a couple of things in French to ease the transition, the main one being "nous sommes quatre," literally "we are four," to indicate we'd like a table for four.

Crepes at a creperie on Rue Martins and this time the walk to the Seine after was easy. We had a brief interaction at Saint Michel, which the security guard, who was letting a line of people into the building, insisted was closed. My inadequate reacquisition of French prevented me from adequately pointing out the obvious logical dichotomy, and I had to walk away accepting that we weren't entering St. Michel this evening. We also got to do a walk-by photo shoot with Notre Dame, sans its spires.

Today's activities in combination with our travel day put strain on Bennett's back and we were taking breaks on the way home. At one, I crossed the street to check out the Georges Pompidou Centre which, it turned out, had open exhibitions at that late hour! We were entirely too beat to do any serious museuming, but the free, three-floor bibliotechque was enough to stop for. Griffin, who had been sleeping during dinner accidentally rejoined us there before we split into three groups with different agendas and a later rendez-vous back at Chez Landgren, our top floor apartment on Rue Volta.

It's 11 pm and we hear the revelry in the streets all around as I've now opened the windows and shades to let the cooiing 93 degree breezes blow through the place. Forgive me for forgoing any editing here. Sleep calls, and I've no choice but to answer.