Tuileries Trampolines

Well, I think we finally have our routine down, so it finally feels like a home. More or less. Leaning a lot towards the less.

The sit down shower thing still makes me feel like I'm camping or something.

Had some breakfast and headed out to the little playground in front of the church. Ben and I played trains in the sand while another lonely soul ran around the playground by himself. His father sat on a bench outside the fence. Maybe there's a French-only force field around the playground that I'm unaware of...it would seem their technology has advanced well beyond ours...

Got to the bookstore after that so I could buy a journal to try to write some stories in. Not that I have any stories to write...but I'm going with the "If you build it, they will come" mentality.

Hit the grocery store. Realized I forgot milk and bread as we were leaving the store.

Hit the grocery store again.

Milklunchnap.

Headed to the Jardin des Tuileries again and rode the carousel, on the bench of course. At least this time he looked at the car and the train. Maybe next time?

Then we went to the nearly empty trampolines. And Ben wanted to jump! Hurray!

He started out jumping as if he were skipping; then I pointed out the little 1 and a half year old girl on the other trampoline jumping off two feet, and he got the gist. After that, I couldn't stop him! After three runs I finally told him we have to go. (It's 2 euro each 5 min)

And then something interesting happened.

Sometimes God gives you subtle hints about things. Most of the time it seems that's the way he works. Something like you reading about earthquakes in Malaysia when you were thinking about planning a trip there. Occasionally he actually spells it out. Literally.

I was looking up how the homeless are handled by the city and found this site: http://www.secretsofparis.com/heathers-secret-blog/beggars-in-paris.html
I read it to the end, and luckily the second to last paragraph stuck with me. So as we are walking toward the end of the Jardin des Tuileries, a woman comes up to me and asks, "Do you speak English?". She was dressed somewhat like a gypsy, but with a backpack, so she seemed kind of like a tourist. After the incident I recalled that her accent was French.

Back up a moment and understand that outside of the Louvre, some guy, Italian I think, came up to me (3rd or 4th random person in 2 weeks that's come up to me....very odd because I swear I look like the most American person in Paris. And mean. I look like a bulldog. Or a pitbull....right?) and asked where the entrance to the Louvre was.

Back to the gypsy tourist.

So, I just figured it was yet another person wanting directions from the most knowledgeable looking man in Paris. Till she held out her note. Then I remembered the article I had just read.

I glanced it over as I was handing it back to her and saying, no, sorry. It said something about help me I need money my mother is sick back in bulgeria blah blah blah. No, sorry.

I said it once and kept walking. And she got mad.

She yelled, what! Give me some money! But then apparently realized both my size and lack of any fear or nervousness and muttered something as she moved on.

Not that my life was in any real danger had I not read that article ahead of time, but it's almost as if I finally had a small conversation with God. He usually talks through the Bible and it's kind of always there, nothing changes in it. This time, he said, hey man, look out for the gypsy woman on your walk today.

It might have seemed like more coincidence had we not been getting tons of answers to prayers left and right lately. Yes', no's, just answers...which for most people is rather rare and happens in God's time, which usually means long times between answers. It's quite interesting. And fun! Even the no answers are still giving you some sort of direction, which is way better than being lost!

Anyway, Ben tripped and skinned his knee running the stroller down the hill on the way back, but that's what boys are supposed to do, so it's ok.

Had his second croissant of the day (he may be developing an addicting...) and an Orangina (a carbonated orange type drink) to tide him over till we got home. The birds almost ate the croissant out of his hand every time he looked over at me. Even the birds are aggressive when it comes to handouts here!