It’s been a trip. Certainly not the one we planned on.
Christmas was perfect. Beautiful. No place more beautiful than Paris at Christmas.
I saw the decorations coming down at Dior. When they were up though… spectacular. The stores go all out with their decorations here.
The department store windows.
All of it so pretty.
Then, all hell broke loose. My husband’s appendix ruptured and he spent days in the American Hospital. It’s a private facility and I’m told one of the best in Paris. The staff got him well and back on his feet. I did miss the American health care system though. Something about being sick and out of your own country is pretty unsettling.
The cost of prescriptions. We had to pay for things out of pocket. Reimbursed later. When I went to the pharmacy with six prescriptions, I was expecting the worst. Turns out, all that medicine cost me $100. I started laughing. The pharmacist asked why? I said, “Do you know what this would cost in America?” She laughed and in a French accent said, “Much more.” I have to wonder why?
The food. What can I say? The food here is rich and magnificent. The husband comes here to shop. I come to Paris to eat.
My favorite little cafe here is nothing famous. RM. I love their breakfast. Scrambled eggs with butter and heavy cream. A crepe and a chocolate croissant.
I have to admit however, that it’s all a bit much. I’m starting to crave a Pub Sub. Chicken tenders with buffalo wing sauce.
Now, to the bread. The bread! The French love their bread. One morning at breakfast I had three plates of bread served to me. I couldn’t begin to eat it all. And I love bread.
Our stay was extended a few days so Enrique could recover. Getting stuck in Paris isn’t so bad, right?
I’m ready to get home though. I miss my house. I miss my dogs. Heck, I even miss work!
It wasn’t the trip we were counting on. Up to a point though, it was great. I still love Paris. I can’t wait for us to get back here.
Why? If I can borrow from the great Tony Bennett, we left an appendix in Paris, France.