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5hfanfiction · 6 years

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The Last Person You Love - Chapter 1

Summary:

It started at a coffee shop, as all cliché love stories do.

Despite it being mid-September, remnants of summer’s heat still lingered for a few hours a day before the crisp air from the fog took over. It was typical San Francisco - one moment the sun would be shining and all of a sudden a blank white sheet was covering the sky. Camila worked downtown near the Bay and, from her view from the hospital windows, she would often admire how rays of sunlight reflected off the water and skyscrapers to highlight the bridge connecting the city and Treasure Island. As she would bike back to her apartment through nearly sky-high hills, Camila’s lungs heaved for oxygen and would be relieved when the fog rolled in to cool down the sweat falling down her face.

She lived in the western part of the city - opposite the Financial district where all the booming tech companies were taking over and where tourists scoured for the best clam chowder near Union Square. She lived in the residential area by the ocean and just a ten minute bike ride to the beach - although, it was nothing in comparison to the beaches back in her hometown, Miami. Ocean Beach’s sand was too coarse and - as ridiculous as this may sound - the Pacific Ocean just felt different from the Atlantic. It was not as warm and the water against her skin did not feel as smooth. Nonetheless, she still loved it. It was one of her favorite places in the city. She and her best friend, Dinah, often found themselves there, playing reggae and entertaining themselves with a few joints because it was San Francisco and smoking weed in public was as common as wearing headphones on public transportation.

After graduating from New York University three months ago, Camila returned to San Francisco to be with her mother, Sinuhe, and younger sister, Sofia. The three of them moved to the city after Camila’s father died from lung cancer the summer before her freshman year of high school. He was an architect for houses along the coast and, after he died, their home simply felt like a house. So they packed their things and moved to the first job offering Sinu got, which was not too hard considering she was one of the nation’s most renowned cardiothoracic surgeons.

The whole situation was overwhelming for Camila - one moment she was saw her dad take his final breath in a hospital bed and the next moment she was in the middle seat of a plane, admiring Sofi admire the window view from their high altitude. However, San Francisco did her well. She cannot explain it, but it helped her grow in more ways than she believed she would have had she stayed in Miami.

They went from a three-story mansion with a backyard the size of a park to a two-bedroom townhome that was half the size of their previous home, yet double the cost. Camila took the bus every day to her high school, which she had to apply to despite being a public school rather than being assigned by proximity to her home. Her school emphasized service learning and critical diversity, and the foreign language department offered various languages rather than just Spanish. Their field trips were to community centers, museums and gardens, and tech headquarters in Silicon Valley. Camila loved Miami for its rich Cuban culture and laid-back aura, but San Francisco always offered something new. There were endless opportunities and so much autonomy to navigate self-discovery, which is what Camila needed after losing her father.

San Francisco made her realize she was a city girl and, ultimately, made the transition to study in New York City not as overwhelming than if she had moved straight from Miami. At NYU, Camila studied Global Public Health and Science with a track in Biology - her goal being to follow in her mother’s footsteps and be a doctor, too. Maybe not surgery because Camila wanted to form relationships with patients and be part of their lives - not just seeing them once or twice, and saying goodbye after that. Her dream was to foster her passion for underserved healthcare and social justice through comprehensive and compassionate care to long-term patients.

Since Camila finished her undergraduate studies in three years, Sinu let her daughter take a gap year to apply for medical school and gain clinical experience during what would have been Camila’s fourth and final year of college. Through her mother’s connections, Camila was able to get an internship at the hospital Sinu practiced at. Camila was a medical scribe, which was a fancy term for “personal assistant to her mother, who she could not call her mother in front of patients, so basically she was Dr. Cabello’s bitch, which really was not any different than from when she was living home.” Her main responsibility was charting her mother’s interactions with patients, documenting all important notes from their discussions. The job is perfect for her considering she spent most of her high school years typing away her feelings on the Internet. Sinu used to always take away her laptop when she was a teenager because she spent “too much time staring at a screen” and, now, Camila loves to rub in her mother’s face that her word-per-minute count can keep up with how fast Sinu talks thanks to all her tweets and Tumblr posts.

With her mom being her supervisor, though, Camila’s hours were lenient - mostly because her mother dismiss her early to pick Sofi up from her middle school and take her to all her extracurriculars. In between piano lessons and soccer practice, Camila often found herself waiting for her younger sister at her favorite coffee shop near Golden Gate Park. The coffee shop was just another hole in the wall, but she loved its minimalist interior design, fairy-light-adorned patio, and lavender white chocolate mocha. She has been going to this place since she had to study for the SAT. However, with her studying in New York, she never considered herself a regular until she moved back home after graduation. She spent all summer working on her medical school application and published article about her undergraduate research on educational neuroscience, but, now, with both submitted, Camila was able to actually enjoy the ambience of the charming coffee shop.

Taking a break from watching YouTube videos on how to properly water succulents, Camila looked up from her screen to sip her mocha and take in all that was around her. There was a table of three adults in business suits, talking animatedly about the stacks of papers next to their mugs. A woman was breastfeeding her baby as her toddler was playing with the banana bread in front of her. Camila’s eyes scanned the room when they stopped to soak in what had to be the most beautiful being Camila had ever laid her eyes on.

The woman was dressed casually - faint jeans and a white tank top partially covered by a black leather jacket that matched the raven hair twirled halfway down her back. The look was so simple, but Camila could not help but squint her eyes to try and focus on the woman standing in line a few feet away from her table. The mystery woman was texting fervently and her left foot tapped with what Camila assumed to be annoyance. Every few seconds, the woman would let out a long sigh or run her fingers through her hair - both of which were only noticeable to Camila, who tried to hide her gawking behind her laptop and mug.

She could hardly hear what the woman had ordered when she stepped in front of the cashier, but Camila could make out raspy mumbles that intrigued her even more. She looked around her table for an excuse to get up and quickly stuffed the rest of her croissant in her mouth so she could bring her empty plate to the bar. This was her idea of flirting: Sneaking glances at a distracted woman with her mouth too full to even talk. Camila gave a tight-lipped smile to the barista as she finished chewing and swallowed in time to turn around to face the stunning woman waiting for her drink. The woman looked up from her phone to meet Camila’s eyes and it was as if time stopped for a moment.

Camila blushed for having been caught staring, but managed to give a small smile before scurrying back to her table without looking back. The woman stood perplexed at the elegant features of the other woman, wishing she was able to admire more before she basically ran back to her table. Her breath caught at her throat and she was not brought back to reality until her order was called out. She grabbed her dirty chai latte and glanced back at the tables to try and see the woman’s face once more before she had to go to work. Her eyes landed on the woman, but was only able to see the white bow clipped at the top of her light brown hair as she was looking down to write some notes.

The raven-haired woman smiled at how simple yet cute the other woman looked and left the coffee shop knowing it was going to be a good day.

Still catching her breathing after her bike ride from work, Camila entered her apartment to find Dinah sulking on their couch with a bowl of ice cream and “Moana” playing.

“Rough day?”

“I miss Mani,” Dinah looked at her best friend and pouted.

Camila simply rolled her eyes at how dramatic her best friend was being. Dinah was so in love with her girlfriend, Normani, that she could not even handle a few days without the older woman. Normani had left just the night before to visit her family and best friend, Ally, back in Texas and Dinah has been acting like a complete baby ever since.

“It hasn’t even been 24 hours, Cheech.”

“You don’t understand!” Dinah threw a pillow at Camila. “What’s the point of living without her by my side?!”

“Okay, calm down, Juliet,” Camila sat down on the couch and instantly rested her head on Dinah’s shoulder. “Put the dagger away and just go FaceTime your girl.”

“I can’t. I know she’s having fun and I don’t want to take away time from her family and friends. I just feel so empty, you know?” Dinah sighed and leaned her head against her best friend’s. “Please tell me something interesting that happened today so I can distract myself.”

Camila thought about her day. She just finished a brutal bike ride because there was some convention that caused traffic along her normal route, so she had to take an alternate that included more hills than usual. Her mother was her typical self and kept pestering Camila to have dinner at their house because Sofi was being like any moody middle schooler. Not that she did not love her younger sister, but Camila knew the last thing Sofi needed was some staged intervention by their mother. Sometimes, things just sucked and you needed to be a bitch.

Nothing about her day was out of the ordinary except for the “flirtatious” moment she had with the stunning woman at the coffee shop earlier in the morning. Was their three-second gaze even considered a moment? Maybe it would have been if Camila had not fled in attempt to hide the flush of red that crawled across her face.

“I don’t know, there was this girl at the coffee shop.”

“A girl?!” Dinah’s head instantly snapped up and she bent her head down to look at her best friend with eager eyes. “Spill!”

Camila sat up and shook her head at the mischievous look on Dinah’s face. She shrugged and mumbled, “It’s nothing. We just looked at each other and I ran away.”

“Ugh, not again, Chancho!” Dinah buried her face in the palms of her hands. She groaned at how awful her best friend was at interacting with anyone she found even slightly attractive.

They have been best friends ever since Camila had initially moved to San Francisco and they ended up living in adjacent townhomes. They hit it off right away despite them going to different high schools - Camila at a randomly assigned public school while Dinah went to a private performing arts school on the opposite side of the park. Their families got close as Dinah’s parents always welcomed Camila and Sofi into their homes when Sinu had a night shift, and Camila tutored Dinah in basically every subject except Dance and Music Theory.

With Camila not being the one to really go out and Dinah always getting stuck babysitting her younger siblings and cousins, the two of them basically spent every moment with each other outside of school. They maintained their friendship via constant texting and daily FaceTime sessions while Camila studied at NYU and Dinah stayed in San Francisco to become a dance instructor at the children’s dance studio a few blocks down from their homes. When Camila returned from New York, she knew she would go absolutely insane if she moved back home on top of already working every day with her mother, so she proposed to Dinah that they live together.

It really was not hard to convince the younger woman to move out of her family’s small townhome with twenty other people.

Their two-bedroom apartment was just five bus stops away from their families, but it was enough for them to feel somewhat independent and in their 20’s. They were able to finish a bottle of wine on a weeknight and not have their mothers scold them for displaying borderline concerning alcoholic tendencies. They rolled and smoked on their fire escape after a rough day - much more convenient than when they would have to sneak out in high school to light a joint at the neighborhood park. They did not have to be second mothers to the little kids running around their homes. They were able to simply enjoy being out of school and somewhat adulting.

Normani lived with them, too, but, with her working at a major tech company as one of the best computer engineers, she went on several business trips to the company’s other offices - from Seattle and Chicago, to Shanghai and Berlin. You would think with all the business trips the older woman has gone on, Dinah would be used to her absence, but it seemed that the younger woman’s separation anxiety only got worse with each trip. Sometimes, Dinah would be so miserable that Camila sucked up her pride and put on the tightest dress she owned just to take her best friend out clubbing.

Camila may not be able to dance, but her ass was big enough to not have to do much and still have guys fighting over her. She cannot lie and say it did not boost her ego to watch extremely desperate guys gawk at her as she tried to sway her hips the way Dinah so effortlessly did. There would always be a few handsy guys who would grab her waist from behind and try to slam their boners against her, but “D” in “Dinah” basically stood for “Dick Deflector."

The younger woman never let a guy get their way with her best friend - always shoving them away and grabbing Camila to dance with. Sometimes, Dinah would push Camila against a wall and grind on the older woman just so no guy could get at Camila from the front or back. Sometimes, Dinah would hold Camila from behind and bend her down just to make it clear that her best friend’s Cuban ass was off limits. It was hot for most guys to watch and, honestly, if they were not practically sisters, it would really look like Camila and Dinah had something going on between them. Normani would murder her girlfriend in a heartbeat if Dinah ever danced with anyone the way she did on Camila. The two best friends just worked - there was no other way to explain it. They balanced each other out, always had each other’s backs, and never failed to have the times of their lives together.

So, when Camila admitted she ran away from a girl at the coffee shop, Dinah was not surprised, considering the older woman always ran off to the bathroom whenever someone tried to pick her up at a bar or club. Camila was not experienced with intimacy and romance. In high school, she "dated” a basketball player, Austin, for less than a month before he dumped her because she denied his sexual advances. During her three years of college, Camila only went to a total of seven parties - only four of which she got drunk at and only two of those four instances did she drunkenly kiss someone. She gave Shawn a quick peck on the lips as a rule for King’s Cup and she hooked up with Hailee after she took a body shot from the girl’s cleavage. The girl took Camila to an empty room and showed her what is was like to be with a woman, being the first person to ever see Camila in such a vulnerable state. Camila did not regret having sex for the first time with Hailee, but, prior to their hook up, Camila never considered the thought of being attracted to girls. She always thought girls were pretty and felt more comfortable around them than with guys, but, after experiencing the sheer bliss and passion with Hailee, Camila could not help but think that maybe she was only attracted to guys because that was expected of her and being with a girl was what she truly desired.

This reveal was not surprising to Dinah, who always noticed how flustered her best friend got around boys and caught Camila staring at the cheerleaders more so than the football players when they would go to Friday night games back in high school. She did not care how her best friend identified - all Dinah cared about was that Camila found someone deserving. This was hard to determine when Camila could hardly even flirt. If a decently looking guy tried to converse with her, Camila would stutter and make some excuse about having to pick up her younger sister. Whenever a pretty girl passed by her, which was all the time because women are just so effortlessly beautiful, Dinah would have to physically close Camila’s mouth for her. The younger woman has tried to teach her best friend the basics, but Camila always froze in the moment and resorted to what she knew best: Running off to be by herself.

“I really tried this time, I swear!”

Dinah crossed her arms and gave her an incredulous look. “How?”

“Okay, so I was learning how to take care of succulents, which is much more complicated than you would think, and then I saw her,” Camila stood up to reenact the morning. “She was standing in line on her phone like this and I thought to myself, ‘I have to do something!’ So I did what I thought was the best thing to do in that moment and shoved half a ham and cheese croissant just so I could give the plate to the barista at the bar, where the girl was standing, waiting for her drink.”

Dinah’s mouth hung open at how ridiculous her best friend was, but she let Camila continue.

“When I turned around to go back to my table, our eyes met and holy shit! Dinah, her eyes! Her eyes were like, fuck, I don’t know how to explain it!”

“What color were they?”

“They were green, but not just green!”

“Oh, so like hints of blue?”

“No, no, no,” Camila shook her head furiously as she paced back and forth in front of the TV. “It’s not as simple as that. They were so full. I don’t know how to explain it except that it felt like magic and bliss and warmth and eternity! We looked at each other and time stopped and I felt a rush of comfort take over me as if I have been scouting the universe for centuries and finally found my home.”

When she stopped her movements and looked at Dinah, whose eyes were as wide as saucers, Camila shook her head in frustration at how she could not fathom into words how gorgeous this mystery woman was. She knew she sounded crazy, but, of everyone she has encountered - from Mexico, Cuba, Miami, San Francisco, and New York City - this woman was surreal. You know how everyone has a celebrity crush or that dream person that stars in every fantasy? This woman blew every face imaginable for Camila. Camila did not even understand how a face so perfect could exist - it had to be chiseled by God himself and topped with Midas’ touch.

After moments of silence, Camila plopped face first back into the couch and groaned into the cushions as her best friend rubbed her back.

“Oh, honey…” Dinah cooed. “Should I pop open the red or white?”

“White."

A/N:

This is going to be a very long story… Get ready for an agonizing slow burn…

I hope you enjoyed - thanks for reading!

Wattpad: nodustollens7

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #humour #romance fluff #submission #The Last Person You Love

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insidethetraveltesttube · 6 years

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Finding Lisbon Restaurants

Where Locals Eat

Breathless, sweaty and most definitely ready for food, I pushed open the glass door and stumbled inside.

“Are you still serving?” I asked, the words more direct than I’d have liked.

A man walked towards me, in black against the bright white walls, clear-varnished wood and chic-hipster vibe I’d pretended to ignore in case we didn’t fit in.

“But of course,” he replied, before catching sight of the pushchair and paraphernalia behind me.

“Oh…” he took a breath and paused. “Perhaps you’d prefer to sit by the box of toys. She can use our trike if you’d like. It used to belong to my daughter.

“And perhaps you would like some green wine? Some tosta de queijo mel e nozes? It is bread with cheese, honey and nuts.”

Finding Lisbon Restaurants Where Locals Eat

This wasn’t how it was meant to be, of course.

Relishing a few days in the foodie city of Lisbon, I’d scribbled suggestions, pinned pictures on Pinterest, flitted hearts across instagram and whatever else we’re supposed to do in this social media age before taking our taste buds anywhere.

I had the additional perk of knowing not one, not two but three food writers familiar with the city and, quite literally, ran into a woman who wrote the book on travel and eating out in Portugal only a few weeks before.

So where did I go wrong?

Opening times, that’s where.

The many flavours of Lisbon

Planning or drifting through the flavours of Lisbon?

Or perhaps the blame lay in abandoning my more natural happy-go-lucky spontaneous traveller vibe (we’ll call that the optimistic description) in favour of something more organised.

Still. I had a hungry toddler on my hands and a list of recommendations that ended in closed doors.

Until now, at Banca de Pau, a tapas-oriented restaurant specialising in food from Tras os Montes in the north near the Douro valley.

Trams in Lisbon – a favourite photo thing to do in Portugal

There comes a level of exhaustion and hunger that can make anything taste good. And thankfully, I wasn’t yet there.

But good the food did taste, all brimming with top ingredients, minimally messed with.

We ordered bread, olives. Tomato salad with vinaigrette and toast with pistachio.

And it turns out there really is such a thing as green wine (vinho verde from the Minho province in the Portugal’s far north.)

Faith and full belly restored, I was ready to try again.

The Cool Cat Restaurant in Lisbon: The Time Out Market

The foodie spot on everyone’s tastebuds right now is the intriguingly named Time Out Market down, also called the Mercado da Ribeira, picked up by Lonely Planet as one of the reasons Portugal is on its 2018 Best in Travel List.

It has an ear for a zingy slogan: if it’s good it goes in the magazine (yes it’s that Time Out) if it’s great, it goes in the market.

The idea is cool, showcasing the city’s different flavours, and the execution is clearly cooler. Stalls use matching fonts on monochrome fabric and diners throng together on shared tables in the centre of the hall.

Ironically, this made it trickier for travel with baby, but a playground outside eased the congestion of that.

Home of the Pasteis de Nata: Belem

Another staple on the foodie scene is the home of the first pastel de nata, the Pasteis de Belem.

Uninspiringly described as egg custard tarts, these Portuguese sweet treats don’t look much better either.

But don’t let appearances fool.

Even for non-pastry lovers like myself (I’m more of a “meh” girl when it comes to croissants,) they won me over.

The pastry is light yet tough, the filling delicately flavoured.

You’ll find them everywhere, more or less, and having tasted some so incredible at an underground chain kiosk, I don’t really think you can go wrong.

But Pasteis de Belem is the famous one and rumoured to be the best, so if you have an appetite for queues and a hunger for pasteis then fire up your Google Maps and go.

Pasteis de Nata in Lisbon

Tangy Sweet Cheese and Ham: Ovelha Curado and Presunto

The other staples of Lisbon dining are ovelha curado and presunto. Commonly brought out with while you choose your main dish, they taste amazing but come with an irritating trait: they’re presented as though they’re a gift from the chef but actually there’s a hefty fee.

On the rebound from pregnancy-related soft cheese bans, I relished every chance I could get.

The best came at the seafood restaurant café at the five star Tivoli Avenida Liberdade. The ham melted softly, the cheese bore the salty-smooth twang that most certainly is not to everyone’s taste but that had run off and eloped with mine.

Lisbon Restaurants with a View

For a city clustered over centuries around seven steep hills, Lisbon’s a place that excels in vistas and rooftop bars. And though the Tivoli’s Cervejaria Liberdade lives at street level, its Sky Bar and executive breakfast lounge offer views across the city that make you forget about the food.

The Sky Bar is open to all, serving cocktails like the Snowberry with port, lime juice, egg white and cinnamon. The sea glittered to order on the horizon and the leaves of Lisbon’s “Champs Elysees,” Avenida Liberdade, fluttered with self-conscious glamour below.

The Sky Bar at Tivoli Avenida Liberdade

It’s a bright white, cool cat kind of a place, but for “rooftop views” with a casual feel, head deep into Alfama or take a tram or steep stride uphill to Jardín de São Pedro de Alcântara.

The former is the oldest part of the city, where streets are even narrower, even steeper, even more cobblier than the rest.

Vegetarian Graca 77 captures this through its watercolours but wears the 21st century in its reinterpretation of Portugal’s trademark azulejo tiles.

São Pedro de Alcântara, however, rustles up standard tourist fare with a happy tourist vibe. The scaffolding was up when I met my companions for the Highlights of Portugal G Adventures tour, but with the sunset, the music and the stands that looked like mulled wine, it scarcely mattered.

And then there was the tomato salad at the Banca de Pau.

With its fresh, great flavours and the man who lent his daughter’s trike.

It was like finding friends in the city. An experience so good we went there twice, once bringing our Lisbon-local friend with us.

And the whole thing reminded me of a long-held truth: no matter how hard you plan, sometimes it pays to make travel mistakes.

Cafe Versailles in Lisbon

More Notes on Lisbon restaurants Where Locals Eat

Breakfast

Café Versailles – yes, it has a French vibe and we’re talking about eating in Lisbon but it’s an atmospheric haunt and beloved by loyal locals. Pastries galore, character in fin de siecle abandon.

A Padaria Portuguesa – Am I recommending a chain on a travel blog specialising in unusual and thoughtful luxury? Yes, indeed I am. A chain it may be but it’s certainly a Portuguese chain that provides plenty of Lisbon restaurants where locals eat. A good stop for breakfast or a mid morning snack.

Tivoli Avenida Liberdade Hotel – for the view. The breakfast buffet is top notch but it’s the view that steals the show.

The Ones I Couldn’t Check: Lisbon Restaurants Where Locals Eat

Cervejaria Ramiro – near Independiente. The queues were like Oxford Street on Boxing Day and although solo by then, I had to move on. Recommended by Eat Like A Girl and Celia Pedroso.

Prado – lots of fresh vegetables, often a novelty when eating out in Portugal! Recommended by Food and the Fab.

Disclosure

I spent a few days in Lisbon with my family and then travelled north through Portugal on the Highlights of Portugal tour as part of my work with Lonely Planet and G Adventures. As ever, as always, I kept the right to write what I like. Otherwise, there’s just no point. For all the pastries in the world.

Some of the other recommendations were hosted, some were not, but all were only included because I like them and would gladly do them again.

How does food work when you travel with G Adventures? On this trip, most meals were not included so that you could test out whatever took your fancy (the group size means that some of the smaller sized places aren’t suitable if you’re all eating together.) Occasional dinners were included and plenty of suggestions were made.

How Not to Eat in Lisbon Finding Lisbon Restaurants Where Locals Eat Breathless, sweaty and most definitely ready for food, I pushed open the glass door and stumbled inside.

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trespiratesque · 7 years

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Day 3

Thursday, April 13th

This was Beck's first day of working at the lab, so I walked over with him and one of our hosts, Anne-Claire, around 8 or so. He's working for now in the Comparative Anatomy building, and as we approached, Anne-Claire pointed out the bust of Georges Cuvier in the entryway, and the first-floor office that belonged to him. Cuvier is known to modern scientists as the father of paleontology, and spent a lot of time in that office pioneering the science of comparative anatomy. (Wikipedia link here for the curious, he was an interesting guy.)

The building itself is an old one, a squared-off stone pile set a couple minutes' walk past a guarded gate and a little clump of frog-filled forest. At first I just assumed the building's exterior was made of the regular gray stone you see in East Coast collegiate Gothic buildings, but I was later surprised to find that it was a porous, pockmarked, igneous rock that didn't call to be touched the way smoother stone does. Inside, the wood floors and high ceilings brought me straight back to the castle-like dormitories of my alma mater, The combined scents of dust, books, and wood polish immediately made it my favorite olfactory landscape yet encountered. Anne-Claire pointed out the water cooler and instructed Beck to only take drinking water from it, as the building's lead pipes render the tap water unsafe. I loved every inch of this building, if you couldn't tell.

After Beck was ensconced in his new setting (with a super nice desk and a computer with windows XP), I headed back to the house to do some writing and put myself together for later adventures. I later met Beck for a quick brunch (a superior croissant for me, an apple pastry for him) and a walk around the block, I headed off towards the 20th arrondissement. Paris is broken into 20 of these districts; as I will be here for 20 weeks, I thought it would be nice to make sure I visited them all. I'll aim for one every week, though other travel may interfere and I'll adjust.

The 20th is one of the larger districts of Paris, but it is relatively far from the center. Far, in this case, meant about 20-30 minutes by Metro to reach a stop on one of the centerward edges of the region. Its most famous feature is Pére Lachaise cemetery, the final resting place of Oscar Wilde, Jim Morrison, and many other luminaries (most of whom are actually French). But I did not originally plan to visit Pére Lachaise on this day, intending rather to wait for Beck and explore it together. In the end, I did wind up in the graveyard; but as I discovered, there is quite a lot of it to explore, so a return trip is likely in the cards.

Initially, I debarked as near as I could to the Parc de Belleville, which is reputed for its elevated views of the city. I got slightly lost on my way there due to following the wrong large street when I emerged from the metro, but it wasn't a problem, and I entered through an overgrown fence. There was a distinct urban park feel to the way the world of cars and buildings disappeared behind me, reminding me of certain Philadelphian parks I have loved. I explored without thinking too much about any direction other than upward. I saw a man in a suit drinking beer on a bench and enjoying the sunshine. There were patches of young adults spread over a short wall, just like on the cover of my high school French textbook. The paths cornered around the face of the small hill with regularity, so I could never quite see where they led, but I was in no hurry. Eventually I reached a set of stairs leading up to a cement structure with a military shape to it - almost every human-made structure here was once used for a different purpose - and from that perch, I looked out over the park.

A very healthy-looking cat crossed a path below at an angle, on the hunt. It was the first cat I had seen so far, and the second came soon after. The view honestly wasn't much to write home about otherwise. Perhaps I've been spoiled in the endemically hilly Bay Area, but I think Paris is just too damn big to be well-captured in one view. Or maybe it was just kind of a hazy day. At any rate, I left the park a different way than I came in, realizing I had a lot of day left to pass. There were a lot of shops and markets along the Boulevard de Belleville where I was walking, many of whose awnings proudly declared a nation of origin other than France. I noted this in service to future specific food needs, but I had nowhere to store any new purchases at the moment as we were still crashing on a couch. I decided to scope out Pére Lachaise, thinking it was unlikely that I'd see the whole thing in one visit anyway.

I walked the three-quarter mile distance to the cemetery - it was a pleasant day, and it was a straight shot. I entered at the unassuming northwestern entrance, befuddled for a moment by the woman with the folding table and whether she was charging an entrance fee. No, it was just for a map or a postcard - I didn't think I needed either. But as soon as I climbed the stairs I began to regret my decision. Turns out the property is 110 acres, about the size of Vatican City. There was a very detailed map on a sign (the only one of its kind I saw) right at the entrance, offering coordinates of various luminaries' gravesites. I decided to head for Edith Piaf's memorial at the opposite corner, hoping to take in some nice sights along the way and enjoy the weather.

It was a really long walk on cobblestones and I got lost to the point where I downloaded a map on my phone. I had thought that all I would have to do would be to follow the borders, but that wound up being impossible. In the end, I saw several wonderful and unexpected things, including a very striking monument to the dead, a grave topped with a life-size bronze sculpture of a broken cello, and a whole lot of ominous-looking mausoleums. I found Edith Piaf's grave almost by pure luck. I sat down on a bench to give my feet a break, thinking I had a small ways more to go, when a very small crowd caught my attention. I re-referenced my map and realized that they were visiting the chanteuse. When they dissipated a little, I stopped by for some pictures and some thoughts for my maternal grandmother, who was a fan of Piaf's.

I was tired and hungry by then, and couldn't muster the energy to negotiate any complex interactions like buying food from someone who didn't already know I spoke toddler-level French. So I took the Metro homeward (again, got only slightly confused navigationally) and got a bread-sausage-cheese loaf to tide me over until Beck was done working. I settled into a bench in the Jardin des Fleurs and read for an hour or so, which was a pure pleasure.

I met Beck back at the front door of the house, and we went to pick up a few groceries for dinner - the plan waas to grab whatever looked good. In the end we wound up with a nice little meal of a baguette, some hummus, cucumber, and lemonade. Continuing our walk, we found another nearby Metro station that was on a different line. We sat by the Seine for a while near a boat-shuttle stand, the kind of thing where you pay $60 for an all-you-can-ride boat ticket. Neither boats nor hopeful passengers came or went. Finally we returned home, walking through the park again on the way. Anne-Claire had mentioned with some distaste that parrots had become a common sight in Paris, a result of the pet trade and irresponsible owners. This evening, we spotted some of the invaders for the first time. They were perched in a tree that was blooming purple, and they were snipping the flowers off the stems without a care in the world. We stood there for a few minutes, tsking for the tree's health and watching the intact flowerheads fall to the ground.

Sometime after dinner, we got confirmation that the apartment we really wanted wasn't going to be available until May 15. This pushed us to put in a request for an Airbnb, which we had been treating as an emergency option in case we needed more time. Anthony and Anne-Claire were more than happy to have us stay as long as we needed, but as small as Paris apartments are, I expect they were looking forward to having their living room back.

#pere lachaise #paris #birds #birbs #science #cuvier

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