I was planning to write today about my rather eventful and entertaining (in a manner of speaking) first day back in New York, but alas! I seem to have either eaten my camera cord or packed it way down in the dark depths of my suitcase.
And while the camera doesn’t contain photos relating directly to the stories of the day, I do feel I ought to put New York photos in a New York post. Therefore I’ll save that story for later – be ready for it, as I’m sure it’ll end up a long’un.
I only have a few more hours here in New York before I begin the mammoth flight-adventure home, but I didn’t want to leave y’all with nothing to look at for days. So, more Paris!
Why so glum, little man? Do you miss watching Victor Hugo write his masterpieces? (At the Victor Hugo Museum at the Places des Vosges.)
It seems that “doctors with children” is a popular category of French romance fiction. Makes sense - who doesn’t like a side of stethoscopes and pureed green beans with their bodice-ripping?
Couscous with shrimp and capsicum, which was lovely and zingy. As you may have noticed, or as you will in upcoming food posts, there was a distinct lack of vegetables in my Paris lifestyle. Dear home, you and I have a date with brussels sprouts.
At the Places des Vosges.
Canelés. I have to say, I didn't love these. They were a bit one-dimensional in their sweetness. However, I didn't research and hunt down a good canelé source the way I did with many of my other patisserie treats. These were still better than that Lenotre travesty, though.
Street market on l'Avenue de Flandres... with a woman selling nothing but pedi-eggs. Because authentic Parisian shopping experiences must involve devices for grating one’s own foot, right? *shudder*
Three words: I want this. (At the Louvre.) (I mean, this was from the Louvre, not I want this at the Louvre. Because I want this at my house.)
No "Glimpses of Paris" post is complete without a dog photo. Basenjis! I don't think I've ever actually seen basenjis in the flesh (fur?) before, but I always think fondly of them because we almost got one instead of Jedda (see About page). They don't bark, and they have wrinkly foreheads. What's not to love?
P.S. There is one thing I must be open and honest about right now. Whilst packing last night, I discovered that in two days in New York…
I bought 30 bars of chocolate.
Which is not counting the ten or so already in my suitcase, the ten or so sent home already, the jars of peanut butter and peanut butter-filled pretzels…
I could have bought a pug with the money, I think.