The first morning of our Paris trip, for better or worse, happened to coincide with Easter Sunday.
Our initial plan of having breakfast in nearby, quaint boulangeries wasn’t off to a good start. In fact, the few businesses that were usually open on weekends found good reason not to be. The streets near the hotel were eerily empty and everything, well nearly, was closed. The freezing cold notwithstanding, walking through the quiet streets felt exhilarating.
My recollections of Holy Week in the Philippines and the accompanying feeling of relief when that part of the year was over were now glossed over by the thought that I’d definitely come a long way from that life, and fewer places are figuratively as far as, or literally more beautiful, than Paris. The Internet certainly would have saved my mental state back then though.