Paris 2009

I loved Paris for it's gazillion outdoor cafes, music, art, architecture and bread. Our hotel was located in the bohemian, eclectic and artsy district of Montmartre and we loved it. Visions of Van Gogh and Lautrec, higher than kites on absinthe, laughing and stumbling along, the dark Parisienne cobblestone streets, while struggling to hold one another up, danced in my head.

At night, after a full day of sight seeing, climbing more stairs than you can ever imagine and eating more butter than I have in years, Doug and I would return to our hotel, climb an additional four stories to our room, walk down the hall and around the corner to the public 'toilette', then join each other out on our wrought iron balcony, reminisce about our day and watch the same homeless man set up his bedding on the street below. Did I mention we were staying in a very modestly priced hotel? In the morning, he would be gone.

Caught up in the frenzy of 'all things french', I couldn't resist purchasing a long, blue knit scarf. Doug winced. I've seen that wince before and although I knew it to be 'bait' for me to tersely ask, "What???" I chose to let it go. Who cared if he didn't like my new look? Screw him.

As our train was leaving Paris for London, I could no longer resist..."Do you like my new scarf?" - "It's alright but I was afraid you were going to go nuts and buy a beret too" he said. Oh puhleeeease - even I knew that wearing a scarf and beret in Paris would have made me look like a caricature of an American Tourist. But I secretly wanted one anyway.