Sleds in Paris

All right. I admit it. This is a lot of snow. 

And for a city not particularly used to snow, I can see why it has thrown everyone a bit. The streets are fairly quiet, traffic is light. And because some things are important, I still see French women stomping through six inches of snow and ice in heels. Yes, I know that technically they are "boots," but a four inch spike heel in this kind of weather is going to kill you. French people, or at least Parisians, do not really seem to take weather into account when dressing. For example, in the winter, one wears a winter coat and a scarf. Yes, it may be 60 degrees and sunny, but it's December after all. 

Because I did nothing yesterday, and because I'm from the American midwest and therefore hearty enough to withstand any blizzard, I went out to meet Ellie for a museum and some exploring. We met in the 16th, close to halfway between Boulogne, where she lives, and where I am in the 7th. Musee Marmottan Monet was once a 19th century hunting lodge, and is now the backdrop for all of my if-this-was-the-Victorian-period-and-I-was-a-European-heiress fantasies. Ellie and I agreed that the beautiful house was much more tastefully decorated than Versailles. No offense to Marie Antoinette and everything, but we can kind of see why they rebelled. Of course I'm a sucker for Impressionism and early 19th century miniature portraits. It may be one of my new favorite museums. 

After Monet we wandered into Bois du Boulogne. I'm sure it's beautiful in the spring, but it was positively Narnian blanketed in snow. (I guess I'm feeling a little fanciful today). 

A few stalwart souls were running. Big, fluffy dogs gleefully bounded in and out of snow banks. Little children were sledding down the sloping bank toward the frozen river. "That looks so much fun," I said a little wistfully. "I wish I could take Le Petit here, but there's no way V would allow that." 

I watched a Dad jog over to stop his kids from sliding onto the ice.

"On the other hand," I said, "What if a kid was going too fast and didn't stop in time and slid onto the ice and then fell through and got hypothermia?" As we started walking back toward the city for hot chocolate and pastries we saw a dad situating his child on a makeshift sled of what looked like an old laminated shopping bag. Hmm. Questionable.

Parenting judgments aside, the day could hardly have been more picturesque. Can I just say one more time how glad I am that I brought my rubber boots? Because let's face it, I am just not that Parisian.