The night before, Geoff and I had decided to venture outside of the city for the day in hopes of clearing our heads a bit. We woke up a bit too late to take any faraway excursions, so we settled on Le Bois de Boulogne, an enormous, 2200-acre park on the periphery of Paris. I had seen pictures of the park before and it looked lovely. We were still feeling pretty strange about the day before, and really we just wanted some fresh air and a nice walk. When we got off the metro, it seemed we had arrived at the edge of the park. But really we were in a small circle of a park surrounded by highway and filled with several sleeping homeless people. Geoff was tired and wanted to join them, but I forced him to press on. I had seen the pictures of the park and was determined to see the beauty. We finally figured out how to cross over and under the highway and weave through the trails to head in the right direction. As usual, Geoff's navigational skills came in handy - and he didn't even have his GPS with him that day. It was a pretty walk, but you could hear the highway which detracted from the peacefulness of it. But then we stumbled across a whole field of (mostly) men playing petanque or boule (aka the Italian game of bocce).
Here's how it works. One person throws a tiny ball - usually a bright color, like red - about 4 yards ahead. Then the teams of people try to get these bigger, heavier balls as close to that small red ball as possible. It also often involves knocking your opponent's ball out of the way. You'd be amazed at how engaging the game is and clearly these men had gotten quite good at it.
After watching them play for a bit, we walked on for awhile further until we came to the lake. Tons of boats coasted on the surface - couples, families, teenagers. It definitely seemed like the thing to do on a Sunday in Paris. We found a spot to sit down and ate some of the Hit chocolate cookies I had been wise enough to buy from a machine earlier. We rested in the shade for about an hour and took some pictures. Then we moved to the sun and rested there for another hour or so. We definitely believed we no longer looked like tourists. And I guess in a strange surreal way, we weren't.
After being sufficiently soothed we got some delicious ice cream pops and headed to the metro. On the train there were these three young boys about 10 years old or so. They seemed to be off on their own and knew exactly where they were going and were watching out for each other. In their conversation, they went back naturally from French and English, both with perfect accents. Geoff said that it'd be funny if that's what our kids were like some day.
When we got home, we looked up some English bookstores open Sunday night and a place to buy a wireless modem. Of course, both were within a short walk of our apartment. We had definitely started to get excited about the centrality of our apartment. The English store Shakespeare and Company has existed in Paris for many decades, run by the same woman who is now handing the shop over to her daughter. The shop is right by the Seine so we also walked along the River and wondered, who couldn't love this city?
We wound up for dinner at Le Petit Pontoise - a nice little café where I finally learned the correct way to ask for tap water: "Je voudrais une carafe de l'eau." Although since then there seems to be some discrepancy between some people thinking we should say "d'eau" and others "de l'eau." It's comforting and scary that even the French don't seem to understand which is correct. Geoff ate pig cheek and I got lamb chops. I also mustered the courage to ask in French what the people next to us were having for dessert so I could order it. Turned out it was chocolate mousse, and the best I'd ever had.
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