I don’t really remember seeing a lot of milkshakes when we lived in France four years ago. That’s not to say that they can’t be found. It could be that I don’t actually go looking for milkshakes. Truthfully, I don’t really go looking for them back home, either. But I will say I know where I could find one in Seattle if I wanted one. I’m not really sure where to find one in France.
Apparently, though, milkshakes can be found in Paris. Today, Chloe and Ella went out on their own to do some holiday shopping and one appeared on their table when they stopped for a drink. Melinda and I thought it was a great idea for the two girls to head out without us (the milkshake idea didn’t come up before they left). Just imagine being able to explore Paris, 21 and 18 year-old sisters. And when your parents provide you week-long passes on the Métro, you’re pretty well set.
Melinda and I went out in the Marais. I’m feeling a bit better today after my best night’s sleep since we arrived, although I’m nervous to report that Melinda’s energy is waning. While we were walking she described her “battery” as being at “20%,” which I took to mean she didn’t want to venture too far from the apartment. At one point we passed by a store called “Flu.” I found that name to be apt so I asked Melinda to snap a picture of me with the store name in the frame. She did so reluctantly.
Later in the afternoon I went to the grocery store to pick up some things for dinner (I manufactured a raclette dinner, boiling potatoes and microwaving raclette cheese over the top before adding ham and cornichons). Along the way, I saw some graffiti art on a wall. I thought it was a good reminder and am including it here.