🎨 Museums, Magic, and a Little Bit of Melancholy: My Wednesday in Paris

Today was a full and fulfilling day in the City of Light—and also the first day of this trip I wore my fancy shoes. I’d been saving them for the right moment. Turns out tonight, the Louvre was worth dressing up for.

I started early, strolling through the Tuileries Garden while the city was still stretching its arms. The cool morning was perfect for walking, and I crossed Passerelle Solférino to reach Musée d’Orsay, where I already had my ticket—rare for this “wing it” girl. Planning’s not my strong suit, but sometimes it pays off (unlike the Notre-Dame interior situation, ha—note to future self: reserve ahead).

Inside the museum, I was completely transported. I wandered through the rooms for almost two and a half hours, sometimes marveling in silence, sometimes giggling—like when a little boy ran up to a statue and shouted, “Is she an angel?” My heart just melted.

As I walked, I thought: I hope the love who finds me one day will enjoy art the way I do—some of it uplifting, some of it puzzling, and some so moving it takes your breath away. I also found myself daydreaming of my granddaughter, and how I want to expose her to all forms of art so that she can decide for herself what moves her. There’s something sacred in that, I think.

One artist who always gets me? Pierre Bonnard. I’m obsessed. The intimacy, the colors, the way he used his wife, Marthe, as his eternal muse—it speaks to me. I could linger with his work for hours. (And today, I did.)

When I left the museum, the sky opened up and down came the rain—thankfully, I’d packed my raincoat like a seasoned traveler. I crossed Pont Royal in search of LouLou, hoping to sneak in for lunch. At first, they told me no tables without a reservation, but just as I was leaving, the hostess stopped me and said, “Would you like this terrace seat?” It was perfect—shaded, romantic, with a view of the Eiffel Tower peeking in the background. Paris really does flirt with you sometimes.

Lunch was unforgettable. I started with Aubergines alla Parmigiana—the best I’ve ever had. I deconstructed it bite by bite, determined to recreate it at home. My main dish, Tagliolini au thon cru, citron, fenouil, was equally divine. I barely ate half, but I wasn’t sad about the waste—sometimes, the beauty of a dish is enough. I dined next to a stunning French couple who were effortlessly stylish, both wearing simple wedding bands, speaking in animated French while she smoked between bites. I don’t love smoking—but somehow, in Paris, even that looks poetic.

After lunch, I strolled through shopfronts and wandered back to my hotel for a short rest and a quick change before my evening at the Louvre. I arrived early and they kindly let me in ahead of my 5:30 ticket. And oh… the Louvre.

I don’t know how to explain what happened in there except to say: I cried. Not just once. I felt overwhelmed standing in the presence of work by Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Alexandros of Antioch, and so many others. These artists—did they ever imagine their work would live on forever? Were they happy? Did they create out of joy, or was their art born of pain? I found myself aching to know them.

And I couldn’t help but turn inward too. I write, I draw, I feel things deeply—sometimes more than I wish I did. Maybe that’s why I connect with art so much. My own work—my life, even—is shaped by my joy, yes, but also my heartbreak. There’s someone I once thought I loved deeply who now only lives in the corners of my writing. He’s not my future, and I know that. But the ache sneaks in sometimes. I let it pass, and I hold onto hope. I believe in love. I believe in what’s next.

💛 If I had three wishes, they’d be for health, happiness, and love. I can work for the first two, and the third… well, I know it’s out there.

I ended my day with a FaceTime call from my granddaughter, who lit up my evening more than any Eiffel Tower sparkle could.

I’ve also learned something important this week: I don’t need three meals a day. A beautiful, lingering lunch and a couple of small snacks work just fine for me. No more wasting time or euros dining because I “should.” I’m a grown woman. I make my own rules.

🥾 Today’s Count:

• 25,000 steps (yes, even in fancy shoes!)

• 6 hours in museums

• 1 FaceTime from the most precious girl in the world

• And a whole lot of soul-stretching wonder

Tomorrow, I may finally go visit the base of the Eiffel Tower and maybe even get that long-awaited dinner at Girafe. And yes—I’ll probably still wear sneakers.

Until then, I’m just here in Paris… listening to a language I don’t understand, watching people smoke with oddly sexy indifference, and healing slowly. I’m learning. I’m growing. And most of all—I’m living.

Honey Note:

I’ve walked through museums, across rivers, and into myself today. Art opened me up, Paris held me, and my granddaughter reminded me why I’m still soft.

Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

À demain,

MaryNell 🌸

(aka - 🐝 Honey)