I went for another run on the Promenade Plantée, so beautiful. I ran this elevated parkway (the only one in the world, complete with wooden archways crawling with vines, perfectly groomed hedges and trees, and a view of the absolutely picturesque apartments of Paris) for a total of 2 minutes when I went down hard, and what should have been a disaster for more than one bone in my body. It was slippery.. and I was jamming to Rihanna... Of course this happened in front of no less than 10 French people, and they all came over to check on me. A kind old couple approached me in my shock (it was good that I looked in shocked because for half of the things they said that I couldn't understand I now had a good excuse). The woman rummaged through her purse and gave me a kleenex for the blood on my knee and elbow (the second i would only realize until later). Nonetheless, the French people strolling through the gardens were quite sympathetique to me. Wearing my shorts I was so out of place on the rest of my run. The French, being eternal cold, do not wear shorts, not even to exercise in apparently... although I'm being hasty in making my judgments since I have never lived here for spring or summer.
The day looked up and I had plans to meet my friend Jen who just arrived in Paris for the semester a few days ago. We met near the Marait area... where the Jews and the Homos love to mix. The most beautiful people in the world congregate here to shop, walk the small beautiful cobblestone streets, sit at cafés, and just generally be seen. And beautiful, even for Paris. Wow. Luckily, Jen's friend also speaks French, so the three of us with our adequate knowledge of the langue maternelle of our host country strolled the streets of Paris for a couple hours conversing in the native tongue. Formidable!
When I returned home, we booked our train tickets to London in two weeks or so... its hard to know or care what day it is here with our thus-far leisurely lifestyle... which is not a bad thing at all.