Today my friend Caitlin and I went to a music store on rue de Rome in the 8th arrondissement and after she renewed the rent on her guitar we casually walked, chatting about school and music and Breaking Bad and Hemingway. We wandered into Parc Monceau, a typical Parisian park complete with a carousel (Parisians love carousels, it seems like there is one at every street corner,) some old looking monuments, and a small pond.
I love weekends in Paris because the French are still very adamant about the value of family time, so on Saturday and Sunday afternoons there are many families picnicking in parks all over Paris. The city slows down a bit and feels more quaint than metropolitan.
The weather was so stereotypical fall, because of the crisp air and falling leaves and blue-ish overcast sky. It was cold but not in a way that made me wish to be warm. Instead I reveled in the cold and how it made my nose pink and the tips of my fingers icy. It made me want to wear boots and drink apple cider.
I know that eventually the rain will come and I will long for sunny summer days and to be so hot that I’m sweating, but right now I’m loving the nostalgic feeling that this cold, fresh fall gives me. (Although I wouldn’t mind if my apartment building turned the heat on. Or maybe I should just buy some more wool socks.)