I wake up in the morning and immediately open our balcony window. (We close it at night because the “beeeeeh bohhhhh beeeeeh bohhhhh” sirens make us feel like we’re in a Jason Bourne movie. I love the sound but it is a bit hard to sleep to.) From our window I can see the sun making it’s way down the narrow cobbled streets. The shops are closed and the vespa scooters line up like bikes in a elementary school bike rack on the sidewalk below. There is no hustle and bustle in the early morning. Everyone is still sleeping at least until 10 am.
This morning was May Day so there were a few flower sellers on the street selling little bouquets of Lilly of the Valley for about three Euros. (They got cheaper as the day went on and got a little less fresh.) May Day is a big day in Paris and apparently the custom is to buy your sweetheart, or someone special, flowers for good luck. Maybe it’s a bit like valentines. I’m not sure. But I do know everyone was carrying them. A cute gay bartender in the bar I visited to get my internet fix had several of them lined up along his cash register. Either he likes flowers or he is the sweetheart of the neighborhood.
The only person who doesn’t sleep in the early morning is the baker. The boulangeries are open at the crack of dawn and you can smell sweet things baking as you walk by them on the street. My Mom and I keep telling ourselves that we are going to buy some croissants and baguettes to munch on later in the day when we are hungry but our hotel breakfast is so good we don’t remember to go until afternoon! At 8am our breakfast is brought to our door. There is a packet of hot chocolate, a pitcher of steamed milk, a pitcher of deliciously strong coffee, two croissants, two bagguettes, two plain flavored yogurts, some cheeses (which by the way, I’ve figured out I love Chambray) and jam and butter. We smear the soft chambray cheese on our bread and mix the jam in with the yogurt to make it sweet. It’s delicious. Why don’t I ever eat these sorts of things at home?