It's Me, Sara Louise

When we last left my tales of Paris, we (Mr. & Mrs. London, Gregory, and me), were on our way to the Musée d’Orsay. I would love to tell you all about an afternoon spent touring the dazzling former train station and its impressive impressionist gallery (my favorite spot in my favorite museum), but I can’t, because we never made it there. Well, we sort of made it there, we just didn’t make it there, there.

When we arrived at the museum, a line like no other was out front. Like seriously, this was a no joke line, like a; ‘we’re giving away thousands of dollars inside‘ kind of line. We all agreed that standing in line wasn’t how we wanted to spend the afternoon so we shouted au revoir to Degas and Monet, and went on our way.

We decided to to make our way to the famed bookstore, Shakespeare & Co (a destination high on Mrs.London’s and my must-see list). Since there were a couple of bike taxis parked outside the museum, we decided to give them a go. Unfortunately the peddlers took one look at Gregory and Mr.London and hiked up the price. We set off on foot instead, and ended up getting distracted by the Jardin des Tuileries.

I could spend hours in the Tuileries Garden, it’s one of my favorite places in Paris. But since Gregory cannot spend hours strolling about a garden, we cut across it heading kind of nowhere. Somehow Shakespeare & Co was getting farther away, but that was OK, because I knew where we were, and I knew that we were getting closer to The Tuileries Bar, a place I had fallen in love with years before.

As I steered us up and down streets getting closer and closer to the plush velvet, banquettes, I felt myself growing eager with anticipation… there was a chilled martini glass with my name on it just around the corner (chilled martini glasses are very hard to come by in Le Petit Village, and just in case you’re wondering, so are plush, velvet banquettes).. and then we came upon an Irish pub. Ruh-roh. It is practically impossible for Gregory and Mr. London to pass by an Irish pub and not go in, so go in we did. Mrs.London and I huffed a little puff, pulled up a couple of bar stools and kissed our chilled martini glasses goodbye.