So, what is it like, coming home to Paris? Well, if you have to say good bye to Africa or any great adventure, knowing that you’ll soon be saying Bonjour, Paris does make the pill that much easier to swallow. If you’re a paranoid freak like myself, you will be very relieved to come home and find that your flat has not been broken into, because home invasion is the number one crime in the City of Lights and it is particularly popular over les vacances.
Along with the relief comes an overwhelming sense of mud-wallowing, tail-wagging joy, because it is mid-August and the city is nearly empty, opening up a delicious playground to discover and fall in love with all over again.
There is a sinfully tempting selection of note-worthy restaurants that are usually too packed to even attempt in the regular season. This week we just walked up to and were immediately seated on the terrasse at the fabulous Le Comptoir du Relais and the mouth-watering La Cantine du Troquet Dupleix. Both featuring a enlightened menu of light, scrumptious dishes to choose from, all 100% healthy and guilt free. Like Mr French’s cold beet soup with anchovies at Le Comptoir, or my grilled razorback clams at La Cantine.
And parking spaces!!! Everywhere. One night Mr French called on his way home from the office, “It is gorgeous out. Get dressed, we’re going on a date.” 15 minutes later he was downstairs and we were headed for a lovely evening, topped off by a romantic stroll at the foot of Sacer Coeur. Like a true rive guache Parisienne, I had not been there in eons, so I was swept away by the romance of the illuminated, rain bleached basilica surrounded by couples hand-in-hand, tourists clamouring for a view of the Eiffel Tower as it went into sparkle mofe on the hour and one really, really bad street singer who provided the perfect comic relief for an enchanted evening in Paris.