And on the 30th day, we rested.

Lesson learned from our return to Paris: remember which train station you leave your luggage at.
We went to the wrong station, and had to turn around and get back on the metro to go to the right one - which we weren´t sure about anymore. Ha. Oh geez.
But we pick up our mounds of luggage and hail a cab to get to our hotel. We had booked a nicer hotel in the middle of the city and planned to just relax for a day or two.
And that´s exactly what we did.
There was a cafè just across the street from our hotel, and on our second day their I ate duck for the first time from their menu. We savored freshly baked pain eu chocolat (chocolate-filled croissants) and enjoyed our hotel´s breakfast buffet. We dressed up our first night and went to an Italian restaurant for a late dinner and just sat and talked for hours.
Paris was cold - like Phoenix winters - but it was nice to have to bundle up for a change.

And we were done, our trip was over, there was no more.
I don´t think that really hit me until I got into a cab to go to the train station, and I was alone. I was alone for the first time since we had left the US.
I was leaving my partner in crime behind, the girl with whom I had shared my August. With whom I had done everything, seen everything, and traveled everywhere. And I was sad to have to say goodbye to our long discussions - about politics, life, religion, love - and our times together in silence, reading, journaling, drawing, and observing.

But Spain and other adventures awaited me ahead.

Like Paulo Coehlo quotes in his book, ¨We´ll always have Paris.¨
We´ll always have Paris, Leslie!