Square Saint-Gilles Grand Veneur

Eric Maisel was right; you would never know this garden was here.  This is truly a hidden gem in the very heart of the bustling Marais.  No Americans here, that’s for sure.  The only sounds are light conversation (in French of course), and the twitter of real birds this time, not pigeons.  Everywhere I look, there is beauty; roses climbing up trellises, benches and patches of grass, a woman quietly eating her lunch, all of it surrounded by creamy white, block long buildings on each side with open casement windows, most likely apartments. 

There’s even a resident chat . . . take a look at his proud tail, and saucy disposition, oh, to be a cat living in Paris!  He must have done something right.

Oh, dear God, this is so delightful sitting here quietly, with the whole day stretched out before us.  It doesn’t even start to get dark here until 10:00 pm!  I lay flat on my back and look at the clouds through the tree tops.  I realize that Paris doesn’t have to be the sight-seeing, metro riding, crowd pushing, schedule driven, noisy urban chaos it’s been on past vacations.  There are so many places designed for respite here; parks, fountains, cafes, green spaces and pristine white gravel walkways.  This is exactly what this vacation is about; finding these spaces and sharing them with you.

I want to be a Parisienne! I can’t help it!  I want to work around here and eat my lunch in this park!  I know, I know, the everyday would eventually set in even here.  Oh but what a splendid every day!  Let’s see - - Telegraph Avenue - - Rue de Rivoli?  Oh dear God, I can only hope these people don’t take it for granted.  I look at an elderly woman with gladiator sandals, and I think, “She’s French.”  I see a small child, speaking adorable French to his mommy, and I think, “He’s growing up in Paris!” I see a group of teenage girls, talking and laughing and I think, “They are actually from here.”

My everyday is pretty great, too.  It’s so funny, because it seems like they think of America like we think of them.  For example, our hotel is next door to a café, called “Breakfast in America”.  It has been packed with young people every time we’ve passed it, any time of day.  I’ve noticed a lot of stores advertising American goods; with “America” somewhere in the title.  Yesterday, I spotted a “vintage” Levis store, that looked like a cool place to hang.  Ok, so let me never take my amazing life for granted either . . .

I yearn to be free of a schedule while here.  I’m barely even willing to make a restaurant reservation.  Ah, what that might be like to live according only to what draws me?  What freedom!  And I realize that I could actually live like that all of the time.  That is the very spirit of vacation at home.  Really being where I am.  Not missing it by drifting around in the past or imagining a brighter future.  Vacation at home is being drawn to exactly where I find myself, even if it is Telegraph Avenue.  Yes, it is easier in Paris.  But it is a skill that can be practiced anywhere.  You and I can both do it. 

It is a prayer to live like that.  It is praying without ceasing.