Thursday, November 2 at 7:30 pm, at the Medina Entertainment Center.
For those of you who find Karl entertaining enough on his own, feel free to shoot him an email. He'll be in Minneapolis until next Saturday, and he'd love to hang out with anyone who's game!
Feeling a trifle blue after putting the love of my life on a plane, I decided it was high time I figured out where all the runners in Paris were hiding. Eh, you say? Well, it's the oddest thing, but you rarely see a person jogging about town here. Now, I hear that Paris is the most densely-populated city in Europe. Moreover, these people can't be completely sedentary, given a) their skinny bodies, and b) their everyday consumption of bread and cheese. So, point me in the direction of the caloric drop-off location - I want in!
To undertake my investigation, I decided to head somewhere nearby that was colored in green on my Paris map. Drumroll, please.....The Jardins de Luxembourg. I was a bit leery of this location in advance, because my memories of these royal gardens told me that they do indeed command a triumphant entry. And the only thing flashy about be was my loud running shorts. (Hey, isn't there just a humble little spot where I could jog around a bit and go home? Where's my Lake Nokomis?) Nonetheless, I set off with my trusty GPS device on hand:
(sorry about the pun)
...and headed for the Jardins. Imagine my glee and delight to discover hoardes of others doing precisely what I was doing! I've never been so excited to see spandex in my entire life. Now, this runner's haven doesn't exactly contain as much green as my Plan de Paris had promised, but the chestnut trees were flying the colors of their full golden splendour, and the effect against the gray skies was giddifying. (Yes, I made up a word. It made me giddy, okay?) It was so good, I had to bring my camera back later. Cue up your Edith Piaf ("Ze autumn leaves....") and see the sidebar for the slideshow.
Also, if you will note the picture of Karl at the top, he is carefully pronouncing "Louvre" outside of that venerable institution. Almost a week ago, when the leaves in Paris had not yet fully turned, we headed into the Louvre for a four-hour marathon (the only kind I do these days). The experience brought us through a great number of epochs in one afternoon, which has a sort of dizzying effect.
I mean, it's a little surreal to be standing in a reconstruction of King Darius' temple.....
And then, fifteen minutes later, find yourself amongst someone's collection of Degas and Renoir. But never mind, there were good lessons to be learned about historical continuity: of human nature, of God's sovereign doling-out of measures of beauty and truth, and the resulting tradition of masterful art. It cost the same amount as going to a film in pricey Paris, but somehow the random series of pictures flickering before our eyes held more meaning than your average movie. Not a bad way to spend a Monday afternoon.