Tonight Chloé and her mother wanted to eat some meat, so I went downstairs to grab a pizza. I decided not to go to the place I ate at last time, their four cheese pizza had just a few too many cheeses on it. The second didn't do take away. I looked at some Kebabs, but couldn't figure out which ones were vegi, if any. The Japanese was Korean. The fondue was full of tourists. So I walked backward and forwards through the cobble stone alleys searching for something edible. Peering over my phrase book, I watched some guys break dancing on the street. I can't even do a hand stand and this guy was jumping up and down on one one hand.
When looking at the umpteenth pizzeria I was ushered inside by the maitre d'. They didn't have any tables, and before I knew it the maitre d' had brought one from outside and plonked it in the entrance of the restaurant next to another table. I didn't really want to eat in, but I could hardly protest now. Fearing the unknown I ordered a margarita and a Cronenberg. Shortly into the meal the table next to me finished and another group had come in. The table next to me was whisked away to create a longer table somewhere else and all of a sudden I found myself eating alone, at a table all by it's self right in the middle of the entrance to the restaurant. At first I felt a little odd, but then I likened myself to Anton Ego, the food critic from the Pixar film Ratatouille, except for the fact that everyone was eating on nice tablecloth and mine was the Italian vista outdoor furniture, oh and the chefs weren't Rats. I did come across a restaurant called Ratatouille and I wondered if the chefs were really Rats, but I dared not ask.
I did enjoy eating by myself thought. It gave me time to reflect over the past week and how much I have enjoyed Paris. I know it's a cliché but it really is a beautiful city. I've got an unobstructed view of Notre Dame across the Seine from the balcony of the apartment. Everything looks postcard picture perfect. The centre of the city has been preserved so beautifully and they manage to even make the billboards pretty. I've been to the Louver two times to date, such a phenomenal place, and I've barley scratched the surface of the museum. I've wandered around and got lost in the side streets and boulevards and stuffed my face with crepes and croissants.
It's been kinda cool to see Chloé in Paris as well. We went out to the suburbs and had lunch with her Grandparents. We walked around the forest past her old high school and it was a pleasant change to hear about all of her childhood stories instead of mine and how she used to get into mischief. A quick trip to the observatory saw another marvelous view of Paris and before we knew it we were back in the assult of car horns of Paris.
Chloé's mothers apartment is in the 5th and it's is full of tourists (unlike me, Chloé's presence saves me from that awful status) and English can be heard frequently along the streets. It's amusing when shopkeepers hear Chloé speaking to me in English and mistake her for a foreigner. Still so much to do in Paris, but we're here until the 12th now, so there's no rush.
Until next time "à la France!"
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