I sent Fara, Kristin, and Twila proof of my arrival at our rental apartment:
Doesn’t 24 hours of travel through snow, rain, wind, and sun just make me radiant?
Then came the dilemma. Do I shower first or eat first? What I really wanted to do was sleep, but no! Immediate adaptation to the time zone!
I didn’t want to venture out in public again looking as I did. Fortunately, our AirBnB hostess left some treats:
A croissant was just the pick me up I needed. Next, a shower.
We’re staying in the Marais district, right between Lea Halles and the Pompidou. In fact, I can see the latter from one of the windows:
I’d heard it was like a Dutch H&M. Since they actually carry clothes on my size, which I did not expect in the city that always makes me feel big and frumpy, I bought me some:
They even had an elusive respectable nightgown (i.e. with sleeves, longer than mid-thigh, and without sequins it the word “Slut” bejeweled on the front in cursive).
I also got two scarves. I couldnt resist when I recalled that scarves here are a much better length than we get in the States.
I wandered around for a while after that. I ducked into a market to get yogurt and a pear for my breakfast, and got a “sandwich chwarma poulet” for dinner.
And lo! It’s 8:30 PM! I can totally start getting ready for bed now without feeling like I’m giving in to the jet lag.
Okay, I’m totally giving in to the jet lag. But hey, it’s my vacation and I’ve got the place to myself until the girls get here tomorrow. Time to tuck myself in to this 18th century apartment with leopard print sofa covers and so many knick-knacks strewn about that a part of me is eager for anti-clutter Jason to see it.