The train to the airport didn’t feel like 2 hours. I got out of the house with plenty of time to spare so I picked up some granola bars at Aldi. Tavel snacks. I get that from my mom.
Luton Airport is the third consecutive airport I’ve flown in/out of that doesn’t have a MAC. What a rip off! I need my duty-free makeup! They’re serious about security at Luton, but I’m a seasoned flyer so I got through just fine. I almost missed my flight because they wait to post the gate number until the gate is practically closed, and I was trying to kill time in the bookstore.
When I arrived in Paris, I got out of the airport like a boss. Despite my seat being over the wing, I was the third person off the aircraft. I was the first person through customs and I blew through it. I hit a little speed bump trying to get on the train. French ticket machines only accept credit cards with chips (not the kind you swipe) so I had to wait forever to buy one from live representative.
After this, I got into Paris in no time. The wonderful thing about coming from London to Paris is that you really appreciate the weather. it happens to be unbelievable gorgeous this week. tomorrow it will he 77. wow!
Carson and I are staying in the same hotel that Kathleen and I did. It’s not only easy to get to but I already knew exactly where it was. He was already checked in. He got to the city early this morning and explored, came back to the hotel to shower, and was waiting for me when I arrived.
We set off to see Montemarte and have dinner before the cabaret that we had reservations for. We ate at a cute little place that the two ladies I met on my first visit to France had pointed out to me. The waiter got my order wrong and just gave me the same thing as Carson, but whatever I ended up with was delicious.
We finished just in time to head around the corner to Au Lapin Agile, the cabaret show. It wasn’t quite open yet, so we went to a corner shop for a bottle of wine for afterwards.
Au Lapin Agile is one of the oldest cabaret in Paris. It was a frequent haunt of Picasso, who did lots of sketches and drawings there. He even made a painting of it. The show is small, intimate, and dark. The space probably hasn’t changed much since it was opened in the 1800’s. We were placed on a wooden bench and served glasses of the house cerise. It was delicious.
The entertainment was great and very authentic. The place wasn’t crowded and it felt like we had finally escaped touristville. We listened to group songs at first, then one performer after another had solo acts. We had a great time and stayed for the whole things, which was nearly 4 hours.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Carson, so after this we headed back to the top of Montmartre to split that bottle of wine and catch up. It’s good to be in Paris, and it’s good to be with a friend. The especially nice thing is that for once I have a shield against the persistence of French men. It’s amazing the amount of attention I got in the very brief space between the train and the hotel. Carson and I were talking about it. He said he’d heard yelling outside and asked if that was because of me. Yes, it was. But when we walk around together, everyone leaves me blessedly alone.