Rainy Paris afternoons and transportation chess

I'm sitting in a small café near Saint-Michel, watching the rain tap against the window while nursing my second cup of coffee. The barista raised an eyebrow when I ordered it black - apparently, that's not quite the Parisian way. I'm learning.

This morning started with ambitious plans. The forecast showed rain, but I thought it might hold off until evening. It didn't. By 10:30, the drizzle had turned into a steady shower, and my plans to visit the Eiffel Tower today quickly dissolved. No point climbing to a viewpoint when the city is shrouded in gray mist.

Instead, I ducked into the nearest metro station and played what I'm starting to call "transportation chess" - figuring out which cultural sites would be best for a rainy day. The Louvre was crossed off my list (done that), as was Montmartre (yesterday's adventure). I considered Musée d'Orsay but remembered hearing it would be particularly crowded on rainy days.

I ended up at Centre Pompidou, spending nearly three hours wandering through its modern art collections. The building itself is fascinating - all of its structural and functional elements exposed on the exterior, creating this inside-out architectural marvel. Even in the rain, the views from the external escalators were worth the visit alone.

What struck me most was a small exhibition on digital art and how technology shapes our perception of reality. Several installations explored the relationship between humans and machines - something that resonated with me in unexpected ways. One piece featured lines of code projected onto water vapor, creating ephemeral patterns that dissolved as quickly as they formed. I found myself standing there for twenty minutes, just watching the cycle.

Afterward, I walked through the Marais district despite the rain, passing centuries-old buildings now housing trendy boutiques. I stopped at a small bakery and treated myself to a pain au chocolat that was still warm from the oven. The contrast between the cool rain outside and the warm, buttery pastry was almost poetic.

The weather forecast for tomorrow doesn't look much better, and I've heard whispers about the transportation strike that might be happening tomorrow. The waiter at the bistro mentioned it again when I stopped for lunch, suggesting I might want to plan for walking-distance activities. Paris is certainly testing my adaptability.

I'm now considering my options for the remaining days here. The Eiffel Tower visit might need to wait until Friday when the weather clears. Tomorrow could be a good day for the Catacombs or perhaps Sainte-Chapelle - both relatively close to my hotel if the strike materializes.

There's something about Paris in the rain that feels appropriate though. The city takes on a different character - reflective, contemplative, slightly melancholic but beautiful in its own way. The streets glisten, umbrellas bloom like flowers, and cafés become even more inviting.

Twenty-nine days into this journey, and I'm learning that travel isn't just about checking off landmarks. Sometimes it's about sitting in a café, watching the rain, and letting a city reveal itself to you in whatever way it chooses. Today, Paris chose to show me its rainy face, and there's beauty in that too.

The rain is letting up slightly now. I might venture out again before dinner, perhaps to Luxembourg Gardens if the weather permits. I still haven't satisfied my curiosity about the trees there, though I suspect they're enjoying the rainfall more than the tourists are.

Until tomorrow, Ruben

P.S. Day count: 29 down, 471 to go. The numbers still feel surreal sometimes.