“Perfect. Where do we need to go to get on the boat?” Stella rubbed her hands.
“Don’t tell me you’re cold? It has to be at least eighty degrees.”
“No, I just can’t believe I’m really here. It’s surreal. And thrilling!”
“Then let’s go. We’ve lots to do today.” Naomi pointed in the general direction and led the way.
They bought combination tickets, which were valid for both the boat and the sightseeing bus and were soon seated on one of the medium-sized, one-level boats.
“How far is this cruise taking us?” Stella asked.
“This one takes us past the Notre-Dame cathedral,” Naomi explained. “Each way is about half an hour. We could get off the boat where it turns around, but it makes more sense if we stay for the round-trip and then get on the bus at the Eiffel Tower stop.”
“Makes no difference to me—I’ll follow your lead.”
“Do you want to get the audio guide?” Naomi asked.
“No, I want to just look around, take lots of pictures, and read later about the buildings we pass.”
“Me too. I can’t stand those germ-infested audio guides. They give me the creeps,” Naomi shuddered.
For the next hour they kept their conversation to a minimum, enjoying the views and pointing out landmarks to each other.
By the time they got off the boat it was close to lunchtime, so they found a little cafeteria-style restaurant near the quay and bought sandwiches and bottled water.
“It was the right decision to skip the Eiffel Tower in favor of taking the boat tour. It’s so relaxing to be on the water and to let the scenery float by,” Stella said.
“And a different perspective, too. I like how we passed under all the bridges. Did you see those beach-like areas on the sides of the river?”
“Let’s google what they are.” Stella pulled out her phone, and, after a quick search, read aloud, “It’s called Paris Plages. Every July and August, roads along the banks of the Seine are closed off and artificial sand beaches are created, including palm trees, swimming pools, lawn chairs and umbrellas. Also, various activities are held there, including concerts and sports events.”
“It’s a neat idea! Wouldn’t it be something for American cities to copy?”
“You’re right, but I doubt it’ll happen anytime soon. Well, we have the Schuylkill River Trail at home,” Stella said, “but that’s boring compared to this beach scene.”
“You can’t even compare the two. But—different topic—did you see all the brides this morning? I think there were at least four or five wedding parties posing for pictures between the Trocadéro and the Eiffel Tower.”
“And I noticed a few couples who got engaged.”
Naomi hummed the first notes of the Wedding March, then said, “I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again. I find the whole ‘getting down on your knee’ nonsense stupid. If—and it’s a big if—I ever get married, I wanna pick out my own ring to make sure I get the one I like, and not the hand-me-down from grumpy old great-aunt Hilda. Then I’d go to the nearest Justice of the Peace and say my ‘I do,’ after which I’d jump on my lucky new husband’s motorcycle and we’d take off on our honeymoon.”
“A motorcycle?” Stella almost choked on a bite of her sandwich.
“Well, I guess a convertible would do in a pinch.”
“So, first you say you’re not sure you want to get married, and now you’re telling me the details of your dream wedding. Which one is it?”
“I guess if the right man came along, I could be persuaded to give it a try. But I don’t see one on the horizon, so don’t go buy your bridesmaid dress yet.” Naomi raised her water bottle and grinned at Stella. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you get married first, and I’ll see how it goes? If it goes well, I might think about it. Maybe.”
“Well, since husband pickings are slim to nonexistent for both of us,” Stella looked at her left-hand ring finger, then at Naomi and said, “maybe we’ll move in together, have twenty cats, and our tombstones will say They lived a purrfect life.”
“I’d rather marry the next guy I meet than live with twenty cats. One would be one too many for me.” Naomi put her half-empty water bottle in her purse and said, “Let’s go, missy. Break’s over. Off to the bus.”
After securing seats on the upper level of the double-decker bus, Stella said, “So, where are we off to? Let’s look at the map.”
“Right now we’re on the red line, but we can change buses here,” her friend pointed to a stop, “and switch to the blue line. But I don’t think we have enough time if we want to visit the Louvre later. Okay with you?”
“Sure.”
A young woman rattled off her well-practiced speech: “Bonjour and welcome aboard. My name is Monique, and Pascal is our driver. Please allow me to go over a few safety reminders I’m sure you’ve all heard before, but I was told to refresh your memory.” A few people laughed and Monique instructed them to stay seated, keeping their hands inside the bus, holding on to their cell phones, and watching out for low-hanging branches.
“If you want to get off at any of our stops, please let me know,” Monique finished her routine. “Pascal, we’re ready to roll.”
The driver pulled into traffic, and Stella and Naomi listened to Monique and relaxed while they rode along a large public park behind the Eiffel Tower. When the bus approached an enormous building, Monique explained, “To your left is the Hôtel national des Invalides, a complex of buildings all relating to the military history of France.” She went into details about the history of Les Invalides, but Stella wasn’t interested in French military history and instead took photos and soaked in the sights.
“I can’t get over the sheer size of all
