Hotel Living is the Life for Me

Fashion Designer Christian LaCroix listed his apartment for 2.6 million

During my previous visits to Paris, I’ve rented an apartment—historic spaces with windows that you could throw open onto the street, light that streamed inside, a true Parisian experience. ( I did not rent Chrisitan LaCroix’s apartment but a girl can dream.)  This time I decided to try a hotel.  Although an apartment was nice for the extra room and the je ne sais quoi, it’s also work. You do your own housekeeping and cook your own breakfast.

Hotel Saint Louis en L'isle

The hotel on the other hand is not as roomy as an apartment but it has many advantages: an elevator to haul our large suitcases up five flights of stairs, car service from the airport, air conditioning, breakfast and maid service.  Since we are only in the room to sleep or read, using the cafés of Paris as our living room, we haven’t been bothered by the lack of space—yet.  I’m not saying I’ll never rent an apartment again—I may. However, the hotel is making my life easier and giving me more time to explore Paris with Anna.

Today we visited the Rodin Museum and I bought a four-day Museum Pass–a fabulous deal that saves money at museums plus allows you to skip the line and walk right up front. To make it even better, most of the museums in Paris offer free admission to anyone under age 18 so Anna’s ticket was complimentary.  As we strolled through the museum located in the old Hotel Biron where Rodin once lived, Anna admired the building as much as the sculptures.  We imagined what it must have been like to live in such a beautiful hotel.  We walked through the rose garden and I took her photo next to The Thinker before admiring more sculptures. As we walked past them, Anna amused us by narrating a story about the sculptures in the garden about how one statue, a trouble maker, started a fight with the others and causing one statue to lose its head (Headless Hercules) while others covered their faces in shame.  Before leaving the museum, we saw an adorable preschool class lined up for a picture in front of The Gates of Hell, an amusing contradiction, these cherubs smiling in front of Rodin’s tortured work.

Rodin's Gates of Hell

As we walked back to our hotel, down the Boulevard Saint Germain, a French woman approached me and asked “Ou est Saint Severin?”  (Where is Saint Severin?) Anna was delighted. “She must have thought I was French too!” she said.

When we returned to our hotel room– cool and quie with beds neatly made–we realized, like Rodin, how we appreciate a nice hotel. We may never leave.

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