April Showers in Portland or Paris or Wherever You Want to Imagine Them . . .

 The Granddad (Pater) and I are doing some significant waiting today. Can’t tell you more for the moment,  but I can share these photos I took in Portland last month (so yes, technically these were March showers, but that’s not got the same connotations, and it’s April now, so . . . )

 Something about that glaze of rainwater catching the intermittent flashes of sunshine, counterposed with the mustard-cheery lacework of those chairs. . .

 Something there, on the otherwise rather different-from-Paris sidewalks of Portland, whispered “Paris” to me. . . .

 Not that I don’t already enjoy visiting Portland as Portland, but occasionally I like to inject a little Paris into wherever I am. . . .

 The changeable spring weather Portland was experiencing when we were there was Paris-congruous, and I could easily imagine that these sidewalk seats had been filled, moments earlier, by coffee drinkers and Gitane smokers and rosé sippers, all of whom had hurriedly called out their “l’addition, s’il vous plaît,” left their Euros on the table and gone back to the shelter of their offices or opened their umbrellas for portable coverage as they window-shopped their way to les grands magasins or to the closest Métro station.

 We’ll be dropping a lively Three off at her daycare in an hour or two, and then I might go looking for a little bit of Paris here, in an island city where I’m waiting.. .

I must say, though, that while the raindrops make for interesting photos, I’d just as soon do my Paris-fantasizing rain-free. . .

Seriously, though, I’m quite happy to be right where I am at the moment, and so was I in Portland not long ago. A little bit of playful Paris pretending never hurts, though, and if you’re wanting a bit more, you might want to visit the latest Paris posting from a young womanwho has followed her dream of an ex-pat life. The dream has become manifest, but with a twist (think of A Tale of Two Cities — Erin’s an ex-pat in London, not Paris, as she first planned). Lately, Erin’s dedicated her energies to career, to the commuting required to maintain a long-distance marriage, and to some ferociously brave and thoughtful blogging about mental health, so the Paris postings have been terribly thin on the ground and I’ve missed them. But she posted one again the other day, and it’s so well-written, so attentively and insightfully observed, and so honest about the gap between the expectations we have of a place and our experience when in it. . . Go visit, tell her I said “Hi!”

Back to my waiting now. Feel free to distract me, in the comments below. . .