Here’s a quick rundown on some of our highlights in Paris.

It’s Paris.  What else really needs to be said?  But still, . . .

The main traffic law seems to be “the bravest driver wins.”  Pedestrians trump traffic.  If you even look like you want to cross a street without a traffic light, the vehicles will stop for you.  Having said that, if you’re at an intersection with a traffic light and have not crossed the street before the light changes, you will hear a chorus of horn honking.  Horns also honk loudly for anything–people or vehicles–that require use of the brake.  Motorcycles weave in and out of the traffic, driving between lanes and going to the front of the line at the red light.

It’s so much fun to talk with people.  At the Bastille Day parade, the lady standing beside us said, “Since you’re wearing Eddie Bauer jackets, I assume you’re from the States.”  She was from Arizona.  At the fireworks, we stood next to a family from Ohio.  We met Felix, a Frenchman born in and still living in Paris, at a cafe and chatted with him for about a half hour.  At our Eiffel Tower dinner, we sat with a couple from Australia and another couple from Brazil.

No matter where we were, any food I saw in Paris looked delicious.  In England, everything looked washed out and sometimes grayish.  We even had pale carrots in England, not to mention a horrible pepperoni pizza–and it’s hard to ruin a pizza.  We’ve tried a number of new foods in Paris and they’ve all been delicious.  The French seem to deserve their reputation for good food.  We ordered organic omelettes (they’re French, after all) with fresh raspberries and strawberries on the side.  It took awhile to come, so we thought they must have waited for the hens to lay the eggs and then picked the berries while we ate the omelettes–and maybe they did.  Those were the best omelettes and berries we’ve ever had!  A little corner cafe offered boeuf bourguignon, Julia Child’s signature dish, so we had to try it.  In the U.S., it would be called beef stew, but the wine sauce made it so very French.  Mmm-mmm good!

 

In addition to the  police escort to our hotel after the Bastille Day parade, we also saw some criminals.  We were going through security at the Eiffel Tower when about ten guys (we heard they were pickpockets) came running through the crowd, followed by several running policemen chasing them.  One of the guys bumped against Ted’s arm as he ran past our group.  We’d been warned about pickpockets, and keep our possessions well protected, but we didn’t expect to actually see real, live criminals.  We were on a streak:  the following day, we had to wait to cross the street while marchers demonstrating for racial equality in Paris passed by.

I saw a double-decker, open-top tour bus that advertised “Slididing top.  Never cold or wet.”  Yes, the top apparently slidides.

After our Eiffel Tower dinner and our Seine River cruise, we took a moped-type topless carriage back to the hotel.  I wish I’d taken a picture of it.  There was just enough room for the driver in front and the two of us in back.  The back of our seat was trimmed in blue tinsel with flickering blue twinkle lights coloring it.  The driver asked if we wanted music for the ride.  We said “yes.”  He asked what we like.  I said “Elvis.”  I was kidding.  The driver was not.  He must have used something like Pandora, because the open-top vehicle blasted “Jailhouse Rock” and a few other Elvis songs for all to hear on our short trip back to our Paris home.