On the second day of August, we took the Eurostar from London to Paris. Eurostar is a super-high-speed train that goes through a tunnel under the English Channel then across the French countryside to Paris.
Arriving in Gare du Nord, the international train station, we immediately discovered one of the truths about France today, the ubiquitous presence of armed police in military garb. As we were gathering our backpacks, three tall men – two white and one black, and all with stern faces that didn’t invite small talk – marched through our car, looking us up and down then continuing toward the front of the train. We didn’t know if they were simply conducting a standard check, or if they were responding to a specific threat.
When we stepped off the train and into the station, they were out in force, male and female officers wearing vests and carrying guns, looking closely at everyone who passed. We know, of course, that France has borne the brunt of a series of terrorist attacks in Europe. It’s clear the government is committed to stopping potential threats before they turn deadly.
Now it’s our third day in Paris, and we’ve spent most of our time resting and working. We’re finding our travel rhythm. On our second to last day in England, we went on a long bus excursion that took us to Windsor, Stonehenge and Bath. By the time we were in Bath, we were both exhausted. We realized we need to tune in to our bodies and make sure we don’t overextend ourselves.
I went out yesterday for a delicious French lunch, and Dempsey has been exploring the neighborhood pastry shops. There’s a wonderful sushi place around the corner. Today we went farther afield to the Parc de Bercy, and walked across the Seine toward the Zoo. We’ve decided to spend two weeks here, being tourists at a bit more relaxed pace.
We’re in an apartment in the 12th Arrondissement (a term for the district of the city), which is a working-class neighborhood. It’s got everything we need right outside the door, and compared to some other, trendier districts, it’s much less expensive. However, the apartment itself is very tiny and not very comfortable. I choose it because the AirBnb ad featured a photo of the rooftops outside the window.
I consciously manifested this trip. I am a powerful manifestor, and I’ve been teaching my clients to manifest in their own lives for decades. But here’s the thing about manifesting: When you’ve acquired the skill, you really have to pay attention to what you think and say, because it’s easy to inadvertently manifest something you don’t really want.
When I was a girl, dreaming of writing in Paris, I always imagined a little room in a garret, among the rooftops of the romantic city. So here I am.
As they say in France, Voila! Okay, so I haven’t heard any French people actually say Voila yet, but you catch my drift, right? Girl wants garret room, girl gets garret room.
However, as my patient husband has reminded me, I’m not twenty. And I like being comfortable. So next week we’ll be in Montmartre, in a lovely 3-room apartment in a storied district of Paris.
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