Paris 2018 – Last Day
Packing up in the morning, I prepare to leave the tiny apartment I have rented. It is on the top floor of a seven story building, with a courtyard filled with plants and an elevator that is so small that you will get to become good friends with your neighbors.
One last trip to the bistro for breakfast, I am almost finished eating when I feel a moment of nausea. Wishing to avoid a repeat of an earlier incident in New York, I rush to the restroom, laughing in my head that if the Messieurs is full, I may be forced into the Madames, and have to have an e conversation about gender identity via Google Translate.
It is only my gall bladder again. Surgery next month, this sudden vomiting is inconvenient.
Of course, now I am hungry, but don’t dare eat the rest of my food. Off to the room to pick up my bags.
Hunger eventually gets the better of me, so I head to Café de Flore, the rival of Les Deux Magot. I try raspberry eau-de-vie, which Hemingway used to drink with Gertrude Stein, but decide I do not like it. The draught beer is excellent, and I keep the crab and celery remoulade down.
Then on to the airport, and home. I got stopped by an idiot security guard because I didn’t have entry stamps for France in my US passport (because I entered France on my UK passport, too complicated for him.) Patricia was FBI, we were travelling separately and I don’t have the details yet.
And then I was stopped the second time for a random security check. Just another cursory searxh of myself and my carry on.
