As many of you know, Jonathan and I spent a lovely few days in Paris this past spring. The nights were cool and the days were filled with sun-drenched sites.
We ate dinner at a corner bar and enjoyed wine and broasted chicken, served by a lovely woman who tollerated our inabilty to decifer the menu. She served us with a smile, despite the quickly filling pub.
Our hostel was beside the canal and we watched boats float gently down the dirty water, past men, old and young, playing ping-pong on tables in the park. People walked their dogs in the same park and I was reminded of the opening scene of 101 Dalmations. Every dog looked like its owner and for every person in the park, there seemed to be at least one dog on a leash.
It was a wonderful place. There was always the smell of fresh bread in the air and people of every cultural background moved up and down the street past architecture, hundreds of years old. The entire atmosphere took away my breath.
