More walking, more talking, all this freezing day. So cold, such a bitter wind! We emerged from the apartment right smack into the Marathon, going by half a block away. I love to watch and applaud; it chokes me up, thousands of bodies pounding by. Later, when we were home, I asked Lynn to look up if it was Ethiopians or Kenyans who won. Both the men’s race and the women’s were won by Ethiopians. Human gazelles, all lungs, legs, and muscle.
We walked to the east along the river, to the Village Bercy, which is an interesting gathering of shops and restaurants in the Parc Bercy. We poked about, then bought a sandwich and struggled to find a patch of sun to eat in the lovely park.
We crossed the river on the Simone de Beauvoir Passerelle, and walked and walked north to the Place d’Italie, then down the Blvd. Gobelins to my old haunt in the 5th – the rue Mouffetard, a wonderful market street. Then to the Jardin des Plantes, to the magnificent cherry tree where I scattered some of my father’s ashes; every time I come to Paris, I go to visit him. The sun came out, and Madame and I sat for half an hour watching the Parisian world go by while my dad kept us company from the shelter of his enormous tree.
Across the river again, with a lovely view of our Lady herself,
we climbed up to the Coulee Verte, like the High Line in NYC – an old railway line now a long narrow park, beautifully planted with flowers, bushes and trees, well populated again with walkers and children. A long sit, warming up in the sun.
Groceries, then home – almost 23,000 steps today, not quite the record Bruce and I set of 24,000, but close enough that I feel it through my body. Lynn is used to lots of hiking and walking; I’ve been winter-bound and am sluggish in comparison.
Tomorrow she is at work all day, so I am on my own in the City of Light.