I arrived in Paris on the day the taxi drivers went on strike*. Of course, this is very French as they love to strike in France. Fortunately, I never intended to take a taxi so the only affect of the strike for me was the pleasure of experiencing something that assured me I was really in France after all.
I had one day to see Paris. It was rainy and gray and everyone walked with their umbrellas - not a bad way to see the city for the first time. It was also the day I was most tired from traveling. I really only had the energy to look steadily ahead because I was in the city from the photographs, never minding that I was only there for such a short time. I didn’t even have a macaroon or sit at a café. I like to think this visit was more of a trial run anyway.
And as for the Eiffel tour, it really is something to write home about. I turned a corner and, all of a sudden, there it was. Oh la.
It seems strange to stop my story here. So much has happened since.
((and so much more to come))
*the second to last photo is a taxi driver with a sign in his window that says “taxi en colere” or “angry taxi”