Wanderlust Wednesday: Paris
A cliché? Nah.
I found myself in Paris for three days with some euros and a dinner recommendation from
I speak enough French to order dinner in a restaurant, and make up for my lack of conversational French by smiling a lot. I ordered a Kir and was delighted by the plate of saucisson and olives that accompanied it.
Some eyebrow raising shared among my fellow diners around the room. You hear that Parisians are rude, but I don’t feel that way. They are city people, quiet. Don’t try the Midwestern approach; it’s just not appropriate here.
Duck confit. A lemon tart so sour that pucker is unavoidable, balanced with just a bit of char. Not too sweet.
Empty chairs at a Metro station, Ligne 6.