Even the statuary has noticed how damp it's been lately and someone was kind enough to offer this gentilhomme an umbrella. I guess it's typical March weather, but the gods must have gotten confused; March was balmy and summer-like, while April is being like March was supposed to be.
Global warming has managed to make historical weather charts irrelevant. Nothing is like it used to be, anywhere.
The other night we were invited to dinner at the Marais home of some new friends and hopped on a bus to get us across town. The bus was crowded and although we found seats they were separated; as I turned to call to Gene to let him know we had to get off at the next stop someone tapped me on the shoulder. Thinking I'd been too loud, I turned and saw...my friend O. What are the chances that on any given bus someone I know would be sitting behind me? And someone who never, never, takes buses because she's one of the diehard car drivers in Paris. And someone who is getting off at the same stop to go to a vernissage of a painter friend?
We kissed and promised to get together soon and went on to dinner. G. and Other O. live in an 18th century building with a winding stair to the stunning 30 ft long salon which is their studio. The high ceilings are hung with chandeliers that they haven't electrified and so we dined with light from lots of candles and felt very romantic. Yes, they do have lamps and live in the 21st century but we loved the experience they provided for us, a taste of what it must have been like in Paris 300 years ago.
Luckily when we left the street outside had sidewalks, there was no garbage or horse manure in the road and we saw no rats or beggars. Not exactly like the 18th century. And there was a taxi.
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