getting there half the fun

Eight weeks ago this morning, Tim and I strolled along this sidewalk in Paris.We passed a congenial scarecrow.
I was finally recovering from several anxietized moments nearing the end of our Europe trip.

The previous day, Saturday, we’d left the lovely Josenhof B&Band had begun an all-day trip toward that gay city, our destination.
On the way a rest area provided these spacey-looking accomodations.The door was cool, it opened by swiveling slowly inward. The toilet seat also turned after each flush as it was automatically rinsed. The aroma in the small space, though, reminded you this was still a glorified outhouse.

Ever since we’d left our friends’ German house and traveled into Bavarian regions I’d been bothered by having forgotten my makeup bag. I mean, it’s a small bag, and I rarely fuss with more than a quick application after breakfast. But here I was, representing the U.S. in foreign cities with my aging face glaringly bare (except for a couple times “borrowing” some of Anna’s coverup – thanks, Anna!). And now I faced Paris, with all those sophisticated ladies and lady-watchers, and, well, I knew I’d look dull.

Still, not the biggest worry. In fact I forgot all about makeup as we neared the fabled city. I couldn’t wait to glimpse the Eiffel Tower. Would it be visible from the outskirts, where we had reservations at a cheap motel? I sat up straighter, straining to see.

I also worried about the next day. Our only full one in Paris, and I had run out of contact solution. I’d searched in vain for more at rest stop quickie marts, but to no avail. It was looking like I’d have to be looking at the city tomorrow through my weak-prescription, chunky-lensed glasses rather than my contacts.

In the outskirts we arrived at our “luxurious” inn.It was fine, though frugal, but there were glitches: first a long wait getting our rooms paid for (computers not wanting to take credit cards and such), and then there were room key mix-ups, including an entrance by Tim and me into someone else’s room (they weren’t in residence at the moment), me leaving my food bag behind in our haste to leave, and having the trauma of realizing the loss and needing to get desk person help to retrieve the bag.

After all that, Tim walked around a corner to buy contact solution for me at a pharmacy we’d seen on our way in. The place had just closed. It wouldn’t open again until 1:30 the next afternoon. I stored my contacts in plain water. In the morning trying to put them in my eyes brought tears to said organs, but I persevered. Our friends had left already for the sights of the city. My vision cleared, and at last I was ready, too. I hadn’t yet caught sight of the Eiffel Tower, but we told our friends we’d meet them there at 8:00 p.m. And then side by side my patient hubby and I set off on our grand adventure.

I’ll describe the rest of that day sometime later this week.