|And we waited it out...|
Days of heat have amounted to one very stuffy apartment. It was time for a change. I packed my bag. Water for drinking. Books for reading. Peaches for eating. Sunscreen for protecting (and the smell). It was going to be a good old-fashioned summer afternoon at the park.
Isolated thunderstorms were potentially hovering over the air.
“Well it always might rain in Paris,” Bridget reminded me via Gchat as I questioned my venture.
I barely gave it another thought as I threw on my sun glasses. I biked up to the Parc Buttes Chaumont, perching atop the hill, overlooking all of Paris. I spread out my towel and kicked off my shoes.
Summer ain’t so bad in Paris.
While tapping my feet to some music and flipping through my book, the air was clean and fresh, and I started to get nervous. This was Paris in the middle of July – it should smell more like baked urine and the heat should hang in the air like a sauna. What was this fresh cooling business?
Then I heard it. The few around me did, too. Thunder clapped overhead. The wind began to rustle the trees across the park as the refreshing air started to waft hints of ozone. A storm was brewing, but like good Parisians, we all dismissed it. It felt too good after so many days of heat.