Mid-Life Cycling

Mid-Life Cycling

17 August 2015

Another Long Lunch And Late Ride--And A Confession

Today I enjoyed another long lunch with another French friend I hadn't seen in a long time.  And I took another late bike ride.

I had seen Michele more recently than I'd seen Jay, but we agreed that it had been trope longue. Interestingly, my conversation with her--like my conversation with Jay--was not a sentimental repetition of temps perdus.  Rather, we picked up where we'd left off eight years ago, when she came to New York.

That is probably a good thing because, since we last met, the friend who brought us together--Janine--died.  Michele is nine years older than I am, as Janine was, so it's hard not to think of aging and mortality and other related topics.  That may be the reason why we didn't dwell on the past. 

She asked me the question she didn't ask when I told her, via e-mail, that I was coming to Paris.  I said, only half-jokingly, "Donald Trump sera le president."  She chuckled in the way one does when one could just as well sigh:  She knows that neither his election nor the prospect that it would drive someone like me out of my own country is out of the question.


Perhaps I shouldn't worry so much about The Donald going to Washington.  After all, he might make the White House look something like this:



I took that photo of the Versailles palace from about a kilometer up the road.  You can see all of that gold glitter from that far away. 

 
 
Yes, I rode there after Michele and I parted.  In this part of France, there's about half an hour more of light at the end of a summer day than there is In New York or other places at or near the 40th parallel.  All Paris museums are closed on Monday, as is the inside of the home of Le Roi Soleil. But the gardens around the palace were not and, having ridden there during two of my bike tours, I knew the trip would be pleasant.
 
 
 
I also had another motivation for taking the ride.  To tell you about it, I have to make a confession:  I am really a big magpie in a human body.  Why else am I drawn to glittery, shiny things and looking at my reflection in them?
 
 
 
Anyway, the gardens are interesting.  They're so formal that even this bird is all  dressed up. 
 
 
 
Maybe he's going to a party in Paris.
 
 
 
 
Can you beat that for a navigational aid?
  
 
 
 

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