Thursday, a perfect last full day in Paris started with a problem. After leaving the Airbnb last week, I discovered a pair of prescription sunglasses in my purse that looked a great deal like mine. They weren’t Lynn’s, so I guessed I’d taken our landlady’s by mistake. Turns out, I had. So Tuesday, after my arrival at the Gare de Lyon, I got on the #91 bus I’d just taken to get to the hotel and went back to the Gare de Lyon, to meet Sylvie and give her glasses back, with many apologies. The bus returning to my little hotel passed le Jardin des Plantes, so I got off and walked through this beautiful garden at dusk, stopping at the big cherry tree, as always, to thank my father for the gift of Paris.

Wednesday morning I went out for breakfast, put on my sunglasses, and said, MERDE! I had given Sylvie MY glasses and kept hers! So stupid! Time to go home. I offered to go back to the Gare but she said to leave them at the hotel desk and she’d pick them up on her bike. That poor woman. What an idiot.

Off to walk to lunch in Montparnasse with my cousin Lesley and her husband Duncan, but first, to the big Monoprix nearby, to buy — moth repellant. The French have much better moth products than ours. Nearby was a street market, one of my favourite sights. The day was colder than I’d anticipated with a high wind, so I bought a warm hat. It was 35 euros but she offered it for 20 because she said nobody wants a warm hat now. Except moi.

A lovely lunch with L and D who’d come in from near Poitiers. We met at the same bistro last time, and it was just as good. They’re flying to Vancouver in a few months, and Lesley has done her usual phenomenal job of researching, not only from tourist sites but by joining Facebook groups and reading fiction based in the area. I kept making recommendations, but she was ahead of me. Amazing. I’m the only cousin she’s in touch with. Very happy to have such a smart and interesting new family member.

We walked all the way down Blvd. Raspail to the river and then parted ways, they to walk back to get their train home, and I to go to the Matisse exhibit at the Grand Palais, a final feast of the greatest art. He’s one of my absolute favourite artists, up there with Vermeer and David Milne.  It was a stunning display, focussed on the last fifteen years of his life which were among his most productive. He’d barely survived a medical emergency and was so glad to be alive, he attacked work with new vigor. He painted through the war and when he couldn’t paint any more, developed his collage method, cutting paper covered with his typical bright gouche colours into various shapes and having his assistants pin them to paper while he inspected and had them moved around. Such joy, such colour, such genius. He died two days after finishing his last commission; now that’s a life well-lived. As he said, “I hope that however old we live to be, we die young.”

Exhausted — over 15,000 steps and feasts of food and art — I headed home on the very crowded metro and had a gourmet dinner in my hotel room — leftover cheese from lunch, a fresh baguette and dessert from the best bakery on la rue Mouffetard, and a bit of fruit. I saved a pain au chocolat for before the flight.

Thursday, as I walked to the Port Royal metro stop to get to CDG, a beautiful day in Paris. And also, eventually, many hours later, a beautiful day in Toronto.

Below: 1. the sidewalks in Paris are often lined with well-maintained plantings, shrubs and flowers, healthy and beautiful. 2. The fruit and veg vendors are wondrous. 3. vintage junk on the sidewalk – so tempting! I saw a silver teapot just like my British grandmother’s. 4. Lesley and Duncan at Le Bistrot des Campagnes. Fabulous. 5. The view, walking to the Grand Palais. 6 – 9. A taste of the glory of Matisse. 10. Supper at the hotel. 11 and 12. Home.

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