Paris, je t'aime

It was nice to get away for a little while. And even nicer to see mum again before she leaves Europe, because who knows when or where I will see her again.

So we agreed to meet, and this time of all places in Paris. I made sure I arrived earlier than mum, so that I would be able to greet her at the train station as she got off the train. And greet her I did, with a big hug. It has been a week since I last saw her, and the time between seeing one another will only grow after this encounter.

No matter, as our two days together just started. But then again, looking back the time went by all too fast. We made our way to Musee d'Orsay, a luxuriously decorated former train station, which today houses magnificent marble scultures and the great works of Impressionist painter like van Gogh and Monet. I was dead exhausted, after having to wake up at 5am earlier that morning to catch my flight, so at one point when I sat down to rest, I actually dozed off in front of the portrait of a courtesan...



Paris is such a romantic city, whatever the season, and whatever the reason you visit it. This must have been my fourth or fifth trip... I guess I lost count since every time is a different experience altogether. So rich in history, and all around are sturdy blocks of 19th Century buildings with artfully decorated windows and balconies that align the Parisian bolevards and squares. And that mighty Seine flows throw the city, dividing it into two, in a city that is made of more than a dozen arrondisements, each with its own charateristic, each with a story to tell, and each with alleyways and parks waiting to be discovered. Underground is a whole network of tunnels, alive with the sound of grinding metal, as trains snake rapidly from one station to another to bring people of all backgrounds and cultures to their destinations. And the food... simply exquisite find cuisine, unparelled elsewhere in Europe, in bistros and brasseries overlooking the bustle of passerbys on the busy pavement of a crowded street.

Two days is just not enough for Paris, and is certainly not enough to enjoy the company of mum again. Early this morning, I took her to the station to bid her farewell. It was hard to see that train door close, and to see only a faint image of mum through the darkened window. The train departed, and pulled away slowly at first, then as if mercilessly, quickened its pace as it sped out of the station. Left behind are the family and friends, some still waving at the train in the distance, others trudging slowly home. I was one of the latter.

I had a number of hours to spare before my flight in the afternoon, so I headed for the Imax theatre to catch an episode on of the Alpes. They say when you are emotional, anything can make you teary. And so it was with this documentary on the epic journey of a mountaineer who sets out to conquer the mountain where his father lost his life decades ago. When he finaly made it up that mountain, despite all the odds of the bitter cold, of the steep and treacherous heights and falls, I could not but cry, especially as Queen's "Who wants to live forever" played lowly in the background, while before me the white snowy landscape of awing towering mountains stood.