Samedi adventure: Canal St Martin.

Amply fortified courtesy of Cafe L'Epoque, le lapin et son ami set foot through Place des Victoires and compassed their way toward Place de la Republique. All well and good until they crossed over into Belleville; an international stew of crowded streets, kabob windows, and bon marches. The parks were filled with an assortment of homeless, drunks and unsavory smells.

Finding the large Bassin de la Villette, they roamed around before heading down the more picturesque canal St Martin. Amelie must have been busy as she was nowhere to be found skipping stones on the water.

Famished from a morning of tromping from arrondissement to arrondissement, Foo suggested a kabob and some frites, so they headed towards Les Halles to choose between several cheap and cheerful vendors. 3€ bought a tres bon repas of falafel and enough energy to head up St Honore towards the Arc.

Weary soles stopped in a quiet park for a quick rest and read, then across Place de Concorde, and into the Tuileries.

As the French are noted for their mélange of ancient and modern art, Foo was elated to find Halloween-inspired statues around the pond and the rather odd addition of cymbals attached to posts—akin to a gathering of Chinese rice-hatted men standing in a puddle. Every few seconds the 'ting' of a successful hit could be heard as people threw coins and pebbles at their target for good luck and audible confirmation of an accurate aim before plunking into the water.

Just the best thing ever.

First espresso; then adventure.

Setting the alarm (an unusual move for Bobbers), he arrived promptly at his favorite café—Le Nustrale at 9am to meet his bank friends Judy and Mark Kammer. They sang songs of praise, a nod to the jet-fuel quality of Fred's cafe cremes. However, they did not tarry for they had a full day's worth of sightseeing planned.

After bidding Judy and Mark au revoir, Fred gave Bob un cadeux—2 glasses touting a Corsican concoction (Foo muttering her gratitude, "Merci Fred. Merci!"). Knocking back the last of his creme, Bob commenced to the Palias Royale for petit dejeuner, a favorite breakfast spot of Bob and Foo.

Grabbing a carnet of metro tickets, off they went to Château de Vincennes. Our furry duo explored the formidable chateau then spent hours in the Parc des Flores, a rather large park with the Bois de Vincennes (which is also quite large). In the Parc there was a spectacular Bonsai exhibit; trees that were perfectly Foo-sized.

Now we all know that Bobbers is a tireless walker so he decided to hoof it all the way back into centre ville. But not before making a mental note that the future Hebert pied-à-terre would be in Vincennes, a delightful suburb with easy access to town.

Following the marathon route, his stroll took him toward the Bastille and the Marais by way of the the Seine. He walked the quais, fending off ring scamming gypsies after a finger-wagging from Foo who scolded, "Don't you even think about it."

Crossing the Seine at Pont Neuf, he ambled into the Universitie district for a cafe before heading back to the hotel for journaling, picture editing and a nap before his Indian food dinner.

Undoubtedly Poulet Tikka Masala if history is any indicator.

Steak haché avec champignon pizza

No one said it would be pretty.

(hunger has no shame)

Nous avons arrive.

Bonjour!

Bunny and Bobbers settled into their window seat on the 767 bound for CDG. After a Dijon-inspired chicken dinner (l'horreur!), they sat back and gritted out 2 bumpy hours over New England. Things settled down over Canada, and they actually got some sleep—a first for Bobbers.

Our motley foo arrived on time, breezed through customs and rode the crowded RER into Les Halles.

Greeted warmly by Didier at the hotel, Bunny and Bob found themselves comfortably ensconsed in room deus son quatre, tinier quarters than in the past, but a familiar layout just the same. A new addition was the tasty Madeleine that greeted them on arrival. Foo however spotted it first; a reminder to Bob regarding lapins and absconding desserts.

Preflight prep.

Bunny passed the preflight hours in the Delta lounge knocking back Airbornes and tracking the weather.

Editors note: And in true Bobber's style—6 hours early.

Bon Vie Bistro Foo.

One look at the menu and the decision was made:

"Je voudrais que le boeuf Stroganoff, s'il vous plaît!"

Bunny wondered why the waiter stared at her blankly then remembered she was in Ohio.

Awkward.

Bon mot: punctilious

punctilious
\puhnk-TIL-ee-uhs\ , adjective:
Strictly attentive to the details of form in action or conduct; precise; exact in the smallest particulars.

Bunny bore witness to Bob's punctilious travel preparation; a multi-day affair involving checklists and his fashion staple: the green sweater.

First class: denied.

It was a bumpy ride to Cincinnati in coach, but Bunny was mollified with the XM Grateful Dead channel during the road trip to Columbus.

Bob begins to sing:

"Dark star crashes, pouring its light into ashes..."

Sarah eagerly chimes in:

"Reason tatters, the forces tear loose from the axis"

This dream sequence brought to you by US Bank.

Jitter Bean Foo

Well of course Foo looks fuzzy. Have you ever had a Jitter Bean latte?

Thank goodness her attention was easily diverted from the comfort of a BarcaLounger, the aid of a remote and reality TV.

Adventures in dust bunnies.

Chinese chicken in Marina del Ray.

Key lime Foo.

"I'm stuffed. I couldn't possibly eat another bite."
"Hey, is that cheesecake?"

Far be it for Foo to turn down anything remotely masquerading as dessert.

Lunching with the ladies (and Bob).

Absently brushing the tortilla chip dust from her cheek, Foo fervidly declared, "There is absolutely no better value on this green earth then the bottomless chips, salad and soup at Chili's."

A bevy of beauties and bovines

It was a dark and stormy night...leading to a windy early morning; a presage to their first day of adventure. A nasty, bronco-bucking climb out on a 737-700 found smooth air for all of five minutes before starting it's descent back through the ugliness to the mecca of ugliness: Los Angeles.

Gathering her collegues, Foo loaded up the rented gray Sonata and started the long drive to Santa Barbara. Foul and pestulence rained down on the freeways which, even on good days, are nightmarish to navigate. In and out of the storms they drove, yammering all the way about the methane output of cattle, mysterious egg smells, and bovine lawn ornaments in Minnesota.

Passing one spun out and flipped vehicle after another, Bobbers remarked that perhaps the drive was more dangerous than his plane ride of terror earlier that morning. They finally pulled into their lodging destination and whiled away the afternoon before heading out to Pepe's, the best local Mexican grub in Goleta. A post dinner stop at the Coffee Bean for a cup of mud and a slice of carrot cake satiated both Sarah and Foo.

Next up: more rain and the drive back to Los Angeles.

Santa Barbara Sunrise

Bunny leaves the rain-soaked peninsula for US Bank Adventures down south.

Bento Bunny.

Mall rat

While eating lunch at the Juneau "mall" (mall being defined as a bunch of stores featuring snow globes and keychains nestled wharf-side), imagine Foo's surprise when she looked up from her reindeer sausage to spy a ferret on a leash.

Of course they became fast friends, but was dubious about the leash.