As we eased into the trip waiting for the plane to board in Boston, the anticipation began to build. After years of trying and thwarted efforts, it was time to go to Paris. All aboard Delta Airlines for a flight to France. Took off at seven-forty in the evening east coast time and winged through mostly clear skies to Charles de Gaulle airport. Landed at eight-thirty-ish time in France, cleared customs, and headed for the train into the city. There are some minor confusions over ticket machines that only Euro coins or chip credit cards, but it all works out. A short time later we disembark less then a block from our hotel right in the heart of Paris. At long, long last we are in the “City of Light”. Let the magic begin.

The hotel is located on the left bank in arrondissement five. Our room is on the third floor and looks out on the Seine River just at the Ile de la  Citie. In one direction there is a view of Saint Chapelle and the other way has a stunning view of Notre Dame Cathedral. This afternoon we walked for miles along the river, and through old neighbor hoods with ancient tall buildings and narrow streets; explored mixes of high end boutiques, tourist shops, wine and cheese markets and bakeries, oh my!  In the process, of course, we had to sample a few sidewalk cafes to re-hydrate and soothe the spirit.

Finally, this evening we strolled across the Seine and found a quaint little sidewalk cafe just off the end of the bridge over to the Ile Saint Louis. Great food, good company, excellent people watching, and leisurely wine drifted the dusk into the twinkle of the night lights coming on all along the river. In the back ground an incredible street musician played Chopin on his piano to a mesmerized crowd on the bridge. As I pondered how very far from home we are, an amazing added touch  emphasized yet again how small the world really is, and how connected we may be. The last people to sit at the table next to us consisted of a slightly older gentleman, and a younger woman and man (late teens, early twenties). They spoke in English, and noted that we did also. He was the grandfather and the two visiting him were his grandchildren. As we rose to leave he asked where we were from, and we replied  Portland, Maine. He replied that he was from Philadelphia and the young woman lives there now. He then pointed to the young man and said he lives in Dover Foxcroft, Maine. Just up the road. Small world!

As we headed back across the bridge a very heavy quarter moon hung over the river and the magic was truly there!