Paris, pt. 2

If you missed it, you can read part one here.

We woke up the next morning and hopped back on the bus to head across town for a radio performance.

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The show consisted of a short interview and a few live songs performed in front of a studio audience. One of the other wives, Fiona was in town and she and I decided to slip out for a little bit of sightseeing while the guys did their interview. We walked around, meandering our way towards the Eiffel Tower. It was such a bright and sunny day and I was speechless for a few moments before I asked her to take my picture.

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I knew our time in Paris would be pretty busy- Joey was there to work, after all- but the only ‘must do’ item had just been checked off my list and so Fiona and I headed back to the station just as the guys were wrapping up their performance.

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Afterwards, we all hopped back on the bus and across town again to the studios of Canal Plus France, where the guys would be filming an episode of ‘Album de la semaine.’

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I stood in the wings of the theater and watched their performance. Their harmonies sounded so wonderful, despite three of them fighting off sore throats and failing voices after being on the road for three weeks and performing two to three times each day. I watched the audience’s reactions and I welled up with pride for my talented husband and our talented friends. To spend your days traveling the world and making wonderful music that brings other people happiness is a very good thing.

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After the performance it was a quick goodbye as the guys were heading on overnight to Belgium and I had a plane to catch in the morning. My years living in NYC served as good training for venturing out on my own in Paris, back on the metro to find my hotel for the night. I stayed in the St Germain district and sadly didn’t get to explore it very much as it was getting late and I was really looking forward to a hotel bed and a good night’s rest before my long journey home. I took the RER to the airport the next morning and while waiting on the train with my luggage in hand, a French woman about my age asked me something I couldn’t understand. I explained that I didn’t speak French and she quickly switched to English, asking if this was in fact the train to the airport. I confirmed that it was, and instantly felt a little more calm and collected. If I could look like an in-the-know Parisian instead of oozing tourist vibes, then I guess my two days in Paris served me well.

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