Vendredi: retour à Paris

“He that has a little tiny wit

With a hey-ho the wind and rain

Must make content with his fortunes fit,

Though the rain it raineth every day”

Fool’s speech, King Lear

For those wondering about the respite in updates, twas because the foul Winter weather of Normandy saddled our voyagers with chest rattling colds. After taking the train back to Paris, our soggy duo took Thursday off to rest.

Friday morning found Bob wishing he had better studied the chapter in his French book about bodily health as he ventured forth into the Pharmecie. "J’ai mal a nez, c’est bloquee. Avez vous quelque chose pour ovrir?" Somehow the pharmacist, between this and Bob's exemplary pantomime, deduced that he had a stuffy nose and sent him on his way with some pills and something sketchy to launch up his nostrils.

So off they went to the Palais Royale to breakfast on Foo-sized pain au raisin and whatever weird French drugs Bob had procured in the name of bodily health.

As this was the first day in four where the sun had made a visit, they decided to stroll along the Seine toward La Tour Eiffel and count the number of time les gitanes tried to scam them with their, "Did you drop this ring?" ruse. The count so far: three. "Geesh" Bob thought, "they must take me for an enfoire."

After making the tour of La Tour, Foo began to chant, "Fa-la-fel! Fa-la-fel!" That meant only one thing: a trip to the Falafel windows in the Jewish Marais on Rue de Rosiers. Naturally, they were as far away from the Marais as they could be.

Casting off the urge to hop the Metro (and because it was Bob-walk-til-you-drop in charge) they made a beeline for the Champs, ran straight up the Tuilaries, crossed Les Halles, and slipped into the Marais. Miraculously they found their vendor and were soon feasting on that pita wonder filled with cabbage, falafel, beets, and other assorted mystery toppings. That and a café, and the afternoon was whiled away blaming each other for poots and other gaseous indiscretions.

They passed a poster advertising "Lapins Cretins—La Grosse Adventure". Yes, after 12 days with Bobbers, La Grande Adventure had evolved into La Grosse Adventure for Foo. But knowing her for the fickle bunny she is, Bob knew she could be bought for a song. So he snatched up a mille feuille and proffered the treat in genuflection.

Once again he and Bunny were fast friends.