December was . . . Interesting

The Roamers survive the festive season

No sooner had we returned home, unpacked, and settled into our “normal” routine, than I came down with a robust case of bronchitis. This seems to be an annual event for me, so I hunkered down, saw the doctor, and stayed home for almost three weeks. I did make it out for most of my French lessons, and I was rewarded one day with a lovely rainbow. Promising fluency one day, perhaps?

The Rainbow Promise of French Fluency

Just as I was starting to feel human again, it was time for my cataract surgery. I was impressed with the efficiency and kindness of the staff (although the surgery was more uncomfortable than I expected), and Phil especially loved the disposable outfit they gave me.

Eye shield fashionista

Four days later, we caught an early train for Paris, where we would spend Christmas at la Fantasie, a boutique hotel in the 9th arrondissement (for which we used an annual credit card benefit). We checked in quickly and headed out to the Musée Rodin, which was. . .closed on Mondays. No problem, we simply made our way, aka walked an hour (with a stroll through a nearby Christmas market), to the bar at the Meurice, where we enjoyed a cocktail before our teatime reservation. The tea at Restaurant la Dali, a splurge, was intended to put us in the holiday spirit. It was nice, lots of sweets, but we don’t need to do it again.

The next day, Christmas Eve, was unscheduled, and we spent most of the day wandering the streets. Shop windows, churches, people-watching, and simply strolling are special fun in Paris, despite the crowds.

A beautiful shop window

The famous Galleries Lafayette Christmas tree

a

Galleries Lafayette’s ceiling

Nativity scene at a church; I’ve forgotten which one

One of many amazing animated window displays at Printemps

We noticed several blocked-off streets and heard lots of sirens, and as we made our way back to the hotel we discovered the cause: a fire in the upper floors of a beautiful Haussmann building near the Gare St. Lazare.

They were still fighting the fire when we walked by

It took a lot of searching to find restaurant reservations for Christmas Eve and Christmas, but we were happy with our choices. Christmas Eve dinner was at Sorza, a tiny jewel of a restaurant that seats only about 24 people.

Sorza; highly recommended!

On Christmas day we enjoyed a video call with kids before heading to a bouillon for lunch. A bouillon is traditionally known as a large restaurant where one can get good quality food at a reasonable price. We chose this one, Chez Julien, for its gorgeous Belle Epoque décor, but we truly enjoyed the food as well.

Beautiful stained glass ceiling at Chez Julien

We noticed a French group at a nearby table taking photos, so we offered to take one for them. And they returned the favor!

Roamers toasting Christmas

For several days I’d thought I’d cracked a rib coughing (see aforementioned bronchitis), but on Christmas afternoon the pain worsened. By the next morning I couldn’t move or breathe without severe pain (when I can’t eat or sip my coffee, it’s serious!), so at the advice of our hotel front desk staff we headed out to the American Hospital. The good news: no broken ribs, just a muscle sprain/tear. The bad news: it took SEVEN HOURS to get through the process, which included a Covid/RSV test, EKG, blood draw, IV, and Xrays. After paying my $750 (much of which will be reimbursed), I noticed my hand where they’d removed the IV was puffed up. Hmm.

A nurse applied alcohol and re-bandaged the hand. And apologized, profusely.

We had a reserved time at the Musée D’Orsay, so Phil went on his own while I stayed at the hospital. When I finally arrived back at the hotel, it was time to head out for dinner before the ballet we were attending at the Palais Garnier. Last February my friend Margi and I had drinks at the Café de la Paix, next to the opera house, so I’d reserved a table for dinner there. It’s a gorgeous Belle Epoque restaurant where you can easily imagine the elegant people who were regulars back in the day.

Gazing past my dessert at Phil

After a lovely dinner (and paracetamol for me), we strolled to the Palais Garnier, the gorgeous, historic opera house that was the inspiration for “The Phantom of the Opera.” On our first trip to Paris in 1993, we had seen a ballet there, and we were excited to return. We had great seats for the Play Ballet by Alexander Ekman, which was amazing–playful, exuberant, creative, and fun. 

Waiting for the performance to begin

And of course I had to take a photo of the incredibly beautiful ceiling by Marc Chagall!

Palais Garnier ceiling, by Marc Chagall

The next day we wandered the streets again, stopping for coffee and later for lunch, before checking out of our hotel. We made it to the train station with a robust train picnic, complete with wine, for our three-hour trip home to Montpellier. 

A vintage child’s tea set in a shop window

So now we’re back home, sleeping in our own bed and getting some needed rest. I’m hardly coughing, my ribs are slowly getting better, the cataract surgery follow-up was positive, and my poor ugly hand is gradually healing. But honestly? After this month, I’m ready to start a new year!

The hand, three days later