1/2: First order of business: 111 Boulevard Beaumarchais.
3: When people ask me about the trip, the first answer is hot. The hour spent quite literally in the fountains at Place des Vosges with Amorino in hand was one of the very happiest.
4–9: Versailles, where we skipped the Château altogether for a full and far lovelier morning of gardens by bike. (And if you’ve ever wondered how les jardiniers trim the topiaries, le voilà.)
10–13: All around Montmartre, home base for the first week. Crowd on stone steps audience of a Thursday evening Oedipus Rex performed in the amphitheater just below and to the west of Sacré Cœur.
14–16: Fontainebleau. I want to put Napoleonic bees on all of the things.
17–20: Miscellany; Deyrolle butterflies and animalia, prescient graffiti, excellent historical type.
21/22: Saint-Germain-des-Prés, inside and out.
23/24: The sacred garden space of Musée Delacroix, quiet like a temple.
25/26: Our Montmartre Airbnb, a dream. Impeccable hosts, unbeatable location, and the entire living area painted in almond blossoms. (100% recommend.)
27/28: The refill routine, reenacted at every opportunity. Form and function at a favorite Métro station.
29/30: On the Fourth of July we trekked out to Île aux Cygnes to visit the one-fourth scale replica of our Lady Liberty. Met two study abroad students, Americans via Madrid, and discussed rapid transit. I have a new theory: because we are humans and often absurdly resistant to change, the metro system you learnt first becomes by default your favorite. It’s the only way I can think to explain the so many really ludicrous opinions I’ve heard about the London Underground.