One advantage of transatlantic travel is the early morning rising often following the exhausted tumble into bed after arriving home. I’m taking advantage of the still-dark morning to catch you up on the rest of my trip to Paris.

On the plane home, the man sitting next to me asked what I liked best about my time in Paris. I gave him some stock answer about how it was too difficult to pin down one thing, but the food, parks, perfume, etc., were wonderful. After thinking about it, I came up with a different answer: What I really liked best were the surprises.

For instance, one night March and I had dinner at La Mère Agitée, a tiny restaurant around the corner from our apartment. The Mère herself greeted us with “I’m not ready yet! Another fifteen minutes!” as she rushed between the kitchen and the downstairs dining room despite our having made the reservations the night before at a time she had announced as “parfait“. From the bar (where she was pouring herself a stiff pastis) she said she normally had about five people for dinner, but tonight there’d be twenty. She asked if we wanted a glass of wine, and we suggested maybe a carafe, to which she said “non” then plunked a bottle of peachy Vaucluse white on the table as she whooshed by…

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