Christmas in Paris

This post should still be downloading into your browser, overflowing with photos of the magic that is Paris at Christmas. Images of the Champs Elysees lined with trees illuminated in white heralding the spirit of the season punctuated by the grand Arc de Triomphe. Scenes of la Tour Eiffel sparkling blue with twinkling stars. Images of quiet, charming streets in the seventh decorated by cheerful strings of carefully arranged lights hung overhead. Photos of winter trees whose limbs have lost their leaves against the shivering river Seine. Patisseries with rainbows of les buches de noel. The booths at the Christmas markets in St. Germain des Pres selling fresh, hot crepes au chocolat. Even scenes of Disneyland Paris with French-speaking Mickey's all decked out for the season.

Alas none of it was meant to be. The only images we take with us are the ones we keep in our heads!

Upon arrival at Gare du Nord on Christmas Eve we were immediately accosted by overcharging chauffeurs. The seasoned travelers that we are, we didn't fall for this tactic clearly aimed at gullible tourists who don't see the alternatives. Feeling pretty good about ourselves, with a few winks we headed for the long taxi queue with the other in-the-know crowd. At long last we found ourselves at the front of the queue. We managed to shoehorn all of our luggage with five people plus the driver in a rather small taxi. My first real test of my rusty French and we were off to our rental apartment. This was going to be great! Christmas in Paris! We arrived at our rental apartment. I was busy watching our taxi driver do fuzzy math, figuring out the total of our ride. We saved 75% off those rip-off soliciting drivers. Go us! After completing the transaction I then turned my attention to reading all the fine print included in the instructions of how to penetrate the many barriers leading to our apartment. The keys were mailed to us previously. I studied the document, made note of my surroundings as to not fall victim to pick-pocketing (all that seasoned traveler stuff is really paying off!), while Scott unloaded the car. Taxi pulls away and I've got the security code for the main entrance successfully entered. We make our way through the second door and then finally through the apartment door, like some sort of scavenger hunt. And we were winning! Go us! Everyone uses the loo and hey it's only 4:30, and Christmas in Paris is waiting! We rebutton the coats and pull the gloves back on ready for our first saunter through Paris at its holiday best. Oh, but we can't forget the photography gear! Let's see where did I set that down? Hmmm, where is it? Panic. More panic. Hallucinating. Breathe. Gone. Taxi. Gone. Breathe. Breathe.

I will spare you the other ugly details (including the many calls to Parisien taxi companies and lost and found bureaus where my rusty French was truly tested!), but suffice it to say I am obviously not grown up enough to own this kind of equipment. Yes, in my moment of distraction I left ALL the photography gear I own on the floor of that taxi. I am normally so protective of this bag, like it's my fourth child. 10K in photography equipment gone. All gone. What's particularly unfortunate is that this loss included a brand new macro lens I got for Christmas that I had only opened hours earlier. Not one single shot on that puppy and it's already gone.

It doesn't take many steps back to gain perspective. It's only stuff. Stuff is stuff. I know that. I have my family and friends. I am blessed. But at the moment I'm pretty sick about it. So I take time to grieve and will begin to rebuild, one lens at a time.