Okay, okay...

There are a lot of you out there who, when you read this post, will mutter, "I told you so!" But, control yourselves and don't write and tell me. Yes, it's true, being in Paris is a darn good idea, and I'm feeling better already.

So, I'm in Paris, as you know, and it's pretty nice weather (a blue sky, no rain, not too cold), and I'm not weeping and whining about my bad marriage. In fact, I got up this morning, had tea, a shower, breakfast, coffee, and went out to explore. I'm staying in an area I hadn't explored before (the 11th Arr., right next to the Marais). In many ways, to my outsider's eyes, it's a lot like other parts of Paris. But what do I know?

On my travels this morning, I went to a pharmacy, got some ibuprofen (the guy behind the counter -- who used to live in San Francisco -- offered me something with codeine, but I'm not ready to throw in the towel yet and get it), visited an ATM, went to a different market, and then went into one of the older/oldest markets in Paris, and bought a chicken p'stilla (or b'stilla) (the marvelous Moroccan pastry with meat filling) for lunch, and traded compliments with the woman behind the counter. She said I have a VERY good accent, and that she could understand me quite well! And the b'stilla was positively absolutely lovely and melted in my mouth. I got back to the flat and devoured half of it, along with a nice little beer. Life is good.

What amazed me is how my spirits lifted once I was out and about, and forced to speak in French. I smile, they smile, we all smile, and I don't feel so bad. I still managed to squeeze out a few tears, thinking about my spouse's behavior, but in general, perhaps I'm getting resigned to it. He's treated me badly and unfairly, and been extraordinarily duplicitous, and morally reprehensible, and taken advantage of me, and is pretty spineless, but there you go. Perhaps it's all for the best, because I needed something to ensure that I don't open myself up to yet more hurt from him. But, I probably will, you know... Sigh... I wish, truly wish, that things had turned out differently for us, but they didn't, so I'll just play this one out.

OK, enough whinging about that for the moment. Time to brush my teeth, put on my toasty new Ugg boots, and go walk the other way on the boulevard, toward Place de Bastille. Perhaps I'll feel a surge of revolutionary spirit! Or, perhaps I'll hop on the Metro and go to the Luxembourg Gardens (my usual -- up to this trip -- first activity in Paris), and contemplate my past, my present and my future. Then I'll get a coffee, perhaps. Or not.

I also saw little Christmas trees in the market; was sorely tempted to buy one. Perhaps not, though. Maybe a wreath? Just for the smell... Hmmmm...

Well, enough for now. More later. A bientot!