Back. Bizarre.

Being back after being away is odd, to be sure. I've been saluting many things walking through these streets again - details that I learned to count on through dreary winters - on buildings and doors that lifted me up when the sky was gray. My hotel is in the 8th arrondissement, an area I used to avoid entirely when we lived here for its hoity-toity-ness. I don't think I've ever taken so many photos of the Eiffel Tower - it is right here and it beckons.


(This one is in Emma's honor - door fascination carries on).









On Saturday, I even had to go back to our apartment, even though someone else is living in it at the moment. That someone else is going to move out, so the process of finding new renters has begun. Xavier is clever enough to manage the entire thing from an ocean away, but since my appearance in Paris fell right at the moment the new renters had to be chosen, I was somewhat obliged to show up. So, I walked up the curvy five floors to our apartment in the 10th arrondissement and my stomach did a few turns with the stairway. I walked into the apartment (muddled with the things of someone else), walked to the center of the living room and just stood there for a minute. There were seven people staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to do something. I didn't mind until the broker said, "Emilie, voilà - les gens qui aimeraient louer l'appartement." (Emilie, these are the people who would like to rent the apartment). Snap back. Looked at everyone. Big smile. Sweeping arm gesture in their direction: "Vous êtes tous très beaux et vous avez l'air très gentil. Allons-y." (You are all very beautiful and you all seem very nice. Let's do it). All the French people laughed and thought I was crazy. I was pleased. In the end, I decided that I should be not be tasked with this sort of thing (I think the broker agrees - sorry, Xavier).