I just couldn't 'shoes' what I wanted to do

I didn't think I'd fall for it.  I went to the cafe this morning looking for advice on what to do all day.  I said I'd just do whatever they suggested.  I threw a few ideas out there.  Museums with a high concentration of watercolor paintings, little towns an hour or so away on the train where I could just go for a walk, galleries, dance performances?  "You name it,"  I said.  I just wanted something to do.

What they couldn't understand was why I wasn't going shopping.  People actually come to Paris this time of year for the sales.  They're huge.  Every store has signs about the discounts.  SOLDES!  That's what they're called in French.  Which is really kind of funny because "soldi" means money in Italian and reduction (of money) in French.  The sales started a couple of weeks ago and I think they last for six weeks.  Then it happens all over again in July.  It's kind of like the day after Christmas for six weeks twice a year.  Anyway, I told them that I wasn't much of a shopper and that when I do shop it's usually for second-hand clothes which is called d'occasion in French which I love the sound of.  I really have the perfect clothes for every d'occasion.

Okay, so I didn't really just accept the first suggestions offered by my cafe mates.  The Louvre seemed a little too predictable.  Musee Rodin?  Been there.  The Petit Palais?  It sounded better and it was suggested by a man wearing a Barbour and round tortoise glasses, both of which he has probably owned forever.  I'll go.

And for the evening?  Olivier showed up with a little booklet that comes out once a week with updates on theatre, cinema, expos, enfants.  Why did it take four months for this gem to fall into my hands?  (And I still haven't stopped to look up enfants.  Kids for sale?)  Anyway, I asked him to find me a dance performance.  He went to the dance section and handed me the book.  I said, "No.  Just pick something and I'll go."  I can hardly tell the difference between the name of the show, the name of the theater and the name of the street, so it would be much easier to follow instructions.

Voila! By 11:30 a.m. my day was planned and I set off on foot to find the Petit Palais.  What I'm realizing is that you really see a lot more on two feet than on two wheels.  I'm becoming quite familiar with stoplight surroundings on my bike since it seems I'm sitting there for hours,  but the rest of Paris is still kind of whizzing by.  So, a seven-hour walk was just what I needed.  But....that's how they got me.

I could successfully walk past almost everything.  Then I saw a window full of wing tips, looked up, saw the name, Albaladejo, and said au revoir to the Petit Palais and bonjour to Frederic (it looks and sounds better with the accents on the "e's".)  I bought one of my favorite pairs of shoes from this shop in Madrid 8 years ago.  Then I saw the store in Paris 6 years ago, but I didn't buy any.  Came back to Paris in May of 2010 and couldn't find the store.  Came back in September 2010 and couldn't find the store.  And on a grey day in January of 2011 the store found me and I found two really cool pairs of shoes.

As for the rest of my day?  I walked.  It's fun to walk swinging a shopping bag from a store you've been searching for for 8 years.  As for the dance?  I decided to go find the theater and see if I could buy a ticket early for tonight's performance.  Yes.  I could buy a ticket early, but it would be for Tuesday's performance because there were none left for tonight.

So, how am I going to tell the gang I didn't take any of their suggestions?  I think they'll understand.  Just in case they won't, I'll spend the rest of the evening translating this piece from Dr. Seuss into French:

You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes. (your  Albaladejos)

You can steer yourself any direction you choose.

You're on your own and you know what you know.

And you are the one who'll decide where you'll go.

Oh the places you'll go.