What a beautiful city you are, especially when the last sight of you is followed by the drive home from JFK down Steinway Street in Queens. Ick. But it is good to be back home with the animals and Paquita is sporting her brand new Parisian harness. She would have loved you too with dogs being welcome anywhere and everywhere. And now, I cross you off the list and hope to see you again soon . A la prochaine, moi.
There is too much to write at this late hour on so little sleep. We did the touristy things, of course, but we incorporated them into walks courtesy of “Paris Walks,” a useful, easy guide for first time visitors. I have only one or two minor, nit picky things about the book’s practicality and some snarky editorial but wholeheartedly agree with the two reviews on the Amazon page. We never took a cab, even from the airport to the hotel, but instead relied on our feet and the freakishly perfect Metro system. It is pristine and a cinch to navigate.
While I enjoyed the sites where we, for whatever reason, felt we needed to go / see to say, “Yes, I have seen the [FILL IN THE BLANK],” the fun parts were more about the culture, the joie de vivre and the drunk and disorderly. The best way to get a sense of how “things are done” is to see how people react to situations like an over packed subway car at rush hour, post office lines, the drunk unsuccessfully trying to get served another drink, the drunk handing another drunk with a Santa hat a half empty bottle of wine, the drunk trying to make a move on every woman in the bar whilst tucking away his obvious wood, and the like. Maybe over a vin or two I will tell you about the trip but until then, joyeuses fetes.
First class on international trips is ridiculously, ridiculously amazing. I am still full nearly 9 hours after landing.