Our Paris Adventure: Day Seven (19 February)

Although we left Paris today, our train didn’t leave until 8:40 P.M., so it didn’t feel like one of those terribly truncated days that can happen when travelling. We had a bit of mundane shopping to do (boring things that are cheaper in Paris than London, like printer cartridges and the like) that we got out of the way before heading up to Montmartre, the highest point in Paris, for a bit of a wander up and down its hills, winding streets, and village atmosphere.

We climbed the steps to Sacré Coeur
and took in the views looking south over Paris.

For some reason, a group of men were assembling for a photo on a pair of firetrucks in front of Sacré Coeur. Firefighters? Soldiers? A combination? We never did find out . . .
As usual, street art dotted our path as we walked,

and although we’ve seen them before, I never get tired of the simultaneous elegance and creepiness of door-knockers in the shape of hands.
On a side-note, we hope that Kevin was reunited with his family.
This street framed a surreal structure at the end of the road,
one of only two windmills left out of Montmartre’s original fourteen, it may be a partial reconstruction and a restaurant, but it’s still a pretty sight.
Of course all this walking meant it was time for a coffee break and what better place than the Amélie café?
Back down toward central Paris, we browsed in a few of the foodie shops that crowd Place de la Madeleine, including Fauchon,with its over-the-top creations and advertising to match:




By now it was late afternoon, and we slowly began making our way back to the hotel to pick up our suitcase. On our way, we walked through the Tuilieries gardens, located between the Louvre and the Seine,
where we noticed what looked like a fallen tree, which turned out to be a bronze sculpture!
We passed by my favourite bridge in Paris, the Passerelle footbridge—a great place for a picnic on its upper, wooden deck—
and walked along the Seine for a bit before heading back up to street level and the hotel.
Suitcase in tow, and with a shopping bag full of ingredients for a train picnic-dinner, we made one last stop before heading back to the train station that would be our departure point from Paris. We walked a few minutes from the hotel, to a brasserie just on the edge of the Luxembourg gardens, for two citron pressés to quench our thirst.
Glasses of freshly squeezed lemon juice, with sugar and water on the side, I love the face-puckering tartness of a citron pressé, and I alternated between them and noisettes on our many stops for refreshment during our time in Paris. We gazed out onto the dark street,
said goodbye to Paris, finished our pressés, and began our trip back to London. The Eurostar was as comfortable as ever, we relished our indoor Parisian picnic as we travelled under the English Channel, and we walked in the front door of our flat just after 11:00 P.M., glad to be surrounded by the comforts of home, but already missing the wonders of Paris.