This is the third time I’ve been to Paris in 9 months. Not to sound snotty. But I decided that I was going to see a few things in Paris I haven’t had the chance to see before. So far, I’ve managed to go to two museums I haven’t done before. Today, my quest to see new parts of the city continues.
Bill recommended going to Montmare. There are artists there and there’s a spectacular view of the city. So we went. I didn’t see any artists. Unless you count the people who write your name so that the letters look like birds or flowers or whatever that is. The view only qualifies as spectacular if you climb the tower of the church on the top of the hill. I have grown three fresh blisters on the bottoms of my toes. I decided to pass on the climb. I didn’t expect everyone else to, but there were no takers when we got up there.
A souvenir shop in the neighborhood did prove to be a jackpot of sorts for Patrick and Julie. They loaded up there on gifts for friends at home.
Since Patrick had figured out the map to the Louvre yesterday, I put him in charge of reading the metro map and figuring out the best way to get to our next destination: a shop with American groceries not far from Notre Dame. It wasn’t too hard to find. It also wasn’t so great a store. But there were a few things I hadn’t been able to find here and couldn’t ask anyone to spend the money to ship here: pickles, Bush’s baked beans (oh, that beautiful bean footage!), mac and cheese. Then I opened my purse to get out my wallet to pay and realized my backpack felt light because my camera wasn’t in it. It was missing. Gone. Crap.
The last place any of us remembered seeing it was at breakfast. I’d taken pictures of Patrick putting ketchup on his eggs. Because Dad is disgusted by this completely normal practice and I wanted to show him that it’s done in France. Fortunately, we’d eaten breakfast at the cafe next door to the hotel so at least I could find it again to ask if they’d found the camera.
On the way back to the metro, we stopped at Notre Dame. Since no one had any more interest in climbing the tower here than they did at Montmare, I figured it wouldn’t take too long. Patrick said he and Julie love stained glass windows and you cannot skip Notre Dame if you love stained glass windows. I offered to go ahead to check on the camera, but they promised to be quick. Which they were.
By the time we got back to that cafe, I thought my arm would fall off from lugging around a grocery bag full of canned food. I guess if I go grocery shopping on vacation again, the next stop should definitely be to drop off the food.
No one working at the cafe had seen my camera. They went through the stash of lost items so I could see . No camera. Well, not my camera. I looked under the table where we’d been sitting. That sort of alarmed the women sitting there. Luckily they spoke English so I could explain I am not a weirdo checking out their shoes. There weren’t even crumbs under that table. My camera is gone. Lost. Along with the pictures in it. I called Bill, not sure how he’d react. He was calm. Said we’d get another one. It’s just a camera. True. But I’m still mad. Heck, it’s not like I panicked and thought someone had stolen my passport and gone to the embassy to get a new one only to find it later in my suitcase.