Paris Journey: walking the city

This was a Mega-day in Paris. Leo, from our VRBO owner brought us through an entry door and past a mini-courtyard. We stood at a large heavy steel door, thick enough to protect Napoleon's Crown Jewels. This door would almost bring me to my knees in tears at the end of a long, jet-lagged first day in Europe. We would inadvertently lock ourselves out of our rented apartment and give up hope of ever getting in at the end of a race around Paris.

The Marais apartment has a swell location near the majestic City Hall and the incomparable Norte Dame. That, ND, was on our first stop and Molly and my jaunt and we have cellphone photos to prove it. Then we continued our mad dash, crossing the Seine to a couple of historic cafes, Deux Margot and Cafe de Flore. Café de Flor was home to Simone de Beauvoir and Jean Paul Sartre. Hemingway quaffed his drinks at Deux Margot. A "Margot" is something like a magi that appeared at Christ's birth. Not sure what happened to the third one on the way to the cafe? Maybe couldn't keep up with his pals, just like I was falling behind Molly—or crossed the street to Café de Flor. We were in the 6th Arrondissiment... that's the French word for neighborhood or district and there are 19 of them in Paris.

We pushed further west through some beautiful neighborhood streets, bleached stonewall and wrought iron grillwork fences on balconies overlooking the winding antique streets. Parisians do not honk their horns thankfully. You occasionally hear the bleating sound of emergency vehicles. The mournful horns make you feel like you're in a World War II movie.

Molly walks incredibly fast and darts between and around slower pedestrian and sometimes automobiles with grace and skill. After about 4-5 miles into our walk, and working on very little sleep I found myself wilting with exhaustion. I felt relieved when we came across a group of bystanders observing a formal welcome ceremony at the Foreign Ministry building, facing the Seine from the south side or Left Bank. Two rows of soldiers in dress uniform lined the staircase with swords pointed downwards as the dignitaries entered the building. We joined the group to watch for a few minutes.

I exhaled. Home was not far away. We crossed the river to our side. We are staying in Marais. We jumped into a Metro at Place de la Concorde. A couple of drunks looked us over with rheumy eyes and went back to their inebriated conversation. We got out at Hotel De Ville, our stop. We got in the first door but the heavy vaulted; steel door's lock would not budge. This problem smacked me like a George Foreman roundhouse right. We not only had No Exit and No Entrance.

Lord help me... we're just a few blocks from Norte Dame after all. The prayers were answered; luckily my cellphone worked. We called the rental agency and the blond VRBO lady with the English accent showed up. She opened the mighty steel door. We had turned the key the wrong way and double-locked it. We were stuck in the labyrinth with a Minotaur snorting torrid breath on us for a few scary moments. She showed up! We got in to our beautiful, roomy, sprawling Paris apartment with its own little courtyard. Life is good. Paris is enchanting.