In two days, the Seine will be a boat parade of waving flags and smiling athletes for the Opening Ceremony of the Paris Olympics. It makes me feel hopeful just thinking about it. I’ll watch for one small antique boat named Corto in particular, but more on that later.
It’s been almost a month since I flew home from Paris. It was the bookend destination of a trip that took us to Scandinavia and Budapest, with time in Paris on the front end to adjust to jet lag and time on the back end to meet up with friends. There’s a non-stop flight from Houston to CDG, so Paris is a no-brainer first stop for us. Not to mention that my oldest daughter hadn’t been back since studying at AUP and was ready to rekindle the romance. There should be a term to describe the love of Paris after one really knows its quirks and flaws and loves it anyway, and maybe just a little bit more despite them. Topophilia is the love of a place, but Paris isn’t just a place.
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