Parisians are particular about buying local, so you’ll always see on the signs an indication of the produce’s origin. Some things, of course, can’t be grown in France such as bananas, pineapples, and mangoes, but you’ll see on the price signs an indicate of what country they were grown in. Continue reading Mingling at the Market tour

As we step out onto the 2nd floor, we’re told to turn left to take the cable car directly up to the top. Yeah, nah. That’s not happening for me today. Even the briefest attempt to look up has my head swimming. I grasp the rails and wait for my heart to stop thundering.  Continue reading Eiffel Tower, Musee Rodin, and aching feet

There are lots of boutique clothing, jewellery, and food shops in Montmarte, and I spend a few hours exploring them, buying my family some little things for Christmas. The shopkeepers are very helpful, don’t mind my lack of French, and I’m feeling confident again. Continue reading Eating my way through Montmarte

After the hour-long service I ride a wave of people out into the plaza again, to find it colder, damper, and greyer than before. Ugh. I’m now really kicking myself for not bringing a hat and scarf. Continue reading One cold, contemplative Sunday

By the time we got on the first train he was asking, in that typical French way (with a smile, of course), if I was married. “No, I’m divorced”, I explained. Have a boyfriend? “Nooo”, I laughed. Not interested in men then? he said puzzled. To which I of course blushed… Continue reading Paris welcomes me back with an indecent proposal