Lost (and Found) in Paris

Bonjour from Mile Marker 12,000... and then some!

I had this vision of my first "morning mile" here.

A leisurely stroll in the sunshine.

A stop at the neighborhood boulangerie.
Un café, s'il vous plait.

I didn't picture that I'd wake up late, or get caught in a drizzle, or become lost in a web of cobblestone alleys whose names don't show up on my phone.

The Marais, I'm discovering, is a bit like my Old City home -- with its narrow passages and hip cafés -- but complicated by French accents, unfamiliar streets, and jet lag!

No worries at first.  

I just wander.  Window shop.  Walk whichever way I want.

I buy un croissant aux amandes.

Then that first café au lait.

C'est très joli!

Then I walk some more.  

Just taking in the views!

But when I'm ready to turn back... well, I'm not sure which way to turn.

I've never had a great sense of direction, but still this surprises me.  I've been studying my Paris map for months.  And I was only setting out for a short walk.

(Just steps past the grocery store we found yesterday!)

Because of the slant of the sidewalk, I usually keep my prosthesis on the curb side -- which means I turn right more often than left -- which should help in this case -- but somehow doesn't. 

After a while, I give up and check the map on my phone.  My blue dot is a "5 min walk" from the red dot of our apartment.  Not bad...

I walk a bit more.  

Still "5 min."

I get it down to "3 min" -- but no shorter.

So close and yet so far.

Travel writer Rolf Potts (who I'll meet tonight at our pre-class picnic!) introduced me to the word flâneur.  It's the French word for someone who strolls on foot without a real destination in mind. 

That's me, this morning.  Walking for the sake of walking. 

Taking in my surroundings without a schedule or plan.

It's the way I love to walk.  I do it a lot -- even at home.

But for an amputee, walking isn't simple.  

"Leg time" is limited and, in the back of my mind, I know I need to conserve it for the picnic tonight.  Also, my microprocessor knee shouldn't really get soaked in the rain.  

As much as I want to turn down the next street just to see where it takes me, I have a compelling -- and physical -- need to find my way home.

After a mile or so of unintended flânerie, my phone tings with a text from Mona, my traveling companion and apartment-mate.

She's at our apartment, leaving to head out for lunch. :)

A few seconds later we cross paths -- at the courtyard to our apartment building.

Je suis trouvé!

Turns out, I wasn't really lost at all.  

Bienvenue à Paris!

Bonne journée!
Rebecca