The Traveling Purple Jacket - Sundays in My City



When I moved to the Netherlands and became a bicycle commuter I quickly found that I needed a rain jacket and rain pants.  I found cheap ones for 5 euro in a bin at Lidl (a store that had an ever-changing very odd assortment of groceries and random other things like truck tires or snow boots or garden equipment).  The pants in my size were black which was fine.  The jackets in my size were not available in black so I ended up with purple...not a color I would normally buy. But I didn't want to spend a lot of time shopping or a lot of money.  Little did I know how much traveling that purple jacked would end up doing.

I don't take a lot of pictures of myself (I generally hate pictures of myself) but here are a few of the places the purple jacket visited. 

Waiting in line at the Louvre in Paris while Gran ran around taking pictures in the rain.

In Amsterdam (see it hanging from my backpack?).

In Queensferry, Scotland.  It was VERY windy!

At Plitvce Lakes National Park in Croatia



 

In Milan, Italy (see it hanging from my chair under the table?).



At a family reunion in PA

I still wear that purple jacket.  It's had quite the life for a 5 euro jacket from a Lidl bin!



Paris in the Rain Part II - Sundays in My City

Seen at a market in the Latin Quarter...too cute not to share.  I'm in Croatia, Slovenia and Bosnia next week so there will be no SIMC post.

Paris in the Rain

Is there a line from some old movie about loving Paris in rain?  Honestly, I don't watch old movies and there's a good chance I have that wrong. Regardless... I could have titled this post "2 Days in Paris" but it turns out that's the title of a movie I've never seen as well.

More to the point...last weekend I took the high-speed train to Paris for the weekend.  It takes just under 1.5 hours from my current location.  It rained the entire first day I was there but, as I've said many times, if you want to see Europe you'd better be prepared to see it in the rain.

I have a confession to make. I wanted to hate Paris.  I really did. When I went there 20-some years ago I didn't enjoy it at all. It was hot and dirty and smelly and the people were stereotypically rude.  So when I took my Grandmother there 2 years ago I was prepared to hate the city. I didn't hate it. In fact, I really liked it. I didn't want to, but I did. So much, in fact, that I took one of my last weekends here to go back. 

While I'm confessing...I have to come clean about my love of the Eiffel Tower. I don't want to love it. It's a tourist trap. It's the type of thing I would generally avoid. Some people swoon over a Manet or a Monet or a Picasso or a Garfunkel (points to those who get it), some people feel a Mozart or a Bach or a Chopin through their entire body.  Me?  Massive steel structures (bridges, towers...doesn't matter) take my breath away.  I literally found myself in the middle of the street with a bus coming straight at me (not slowing down a bit) staring up at Her Majesty completely oblivious to said bus.  At one point, I'm pretty sure I was drooling.  I feel honored to be in the presence of of the Tower and I stand there, rain or not, trying to absorb as much of her essence as I can. 

 

  

I love it so much, in fact, that I forced myself to go back at night (despite being completely exhausted) in the pouring rain just to see her lit up.

 

I saw more in my 2 days there but I really felt like the Tower deserved a post of her own.