Samedi promenade dans Paris.

Who cared what Le Parisien said about Saturday's forecast. After tossing a crème, deux café, and a pain au raisin down her gullet, Foo declared "Let's go!"

Rive Gauche was the morning destination so our heroes moseyed on over to the Parc du Luxembourg to enjoy the crisp morning. All of Paris likes to stroll through the parks before shopping the main boulevards—and today was no different. The parks were filled with joggers, jump ropers, tennis players and children enjoying pony rides. There were Foo-friendly ponies but le lapin was too busy scampering all over the statuary to be coaxed onto a Shetland.

After leaving the Parc, they roamed the St. Germain area to find familiar spots and eateries, while enjoying the store windows, street art, and hidden alleys just begging to be explored. For le dejeuner they grabbed a grec baguette avec frites for a frugal 4.50€ and settled alongside the Seine quai to enjoy their gut bomb. Pigeons had their beady eyes on the baguette but Bob spared them the salty nastywich.

Amply recharged, they did a quick tour of Ile de la Cite (and for those of you keeping count, the gitane ring scam count is now up to six). Crossing the pont to Ile St. Louis, they espied a familiar street band. Twas much too cold for a famous Berthillion glace on the ile so they found their way back to Rive Droit to have a café with Fred before rounding out the afternoon in the broad Rue la Fayette area with its many Cinemas and Grand magasins.

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.

À bientôt, Paris.

Time for cafe cremes to be replaced with drip coffee and to swap almond croissants for toaster waffles. Sadly, we must bid adieu to La Ville-lumière (the City of Light) and begin the long journey home.

It's easy to get into your groove in Paris, meandering through many a kilometer from one historical delight to another. But all good things must come to an end—such as our yogurt and baguette breakfasts in the Jardin du Palais Royal each morning, butchering the French language with our pals Didier and Fred, and watching in horror as our hard-earned American dollars pale in comparison to the Euro...

À bientôt, Paris!

Wide-eyed wonder at the Musée du Louvre

Open to all since 1793: From the outset, the Louvre has embodied the concept of a truly universal institution. Universal in the scope of its collections; universal in its appeal to some 6 million visitors (and a finger puppet named Foo) each and every year.

It is quite possible that Musée du Louvre Director Henri Loyrette is questioning "open to all" after our visit.

Un marathoner américain à Paris

Oh the fun they had (and the tales they have to tell).

Coming shortly.
To a Bunny Blog near you.
When the jetlag wears off
And the café kicks in.

Bonjour Paris, je t'aime.

Ah, April in Paris.
The big adventure begins tomorrow with the 10.5 hour Air France flight. Thank goodness for Nano playlists, "Life of Pi" and back-of-the-seat GPS locators. Tracking your exact location while hurtling through the air at 37,000 feet is a wonderful time sink.

The itinerary includes the usual plodding from Arrondissement to Arrondissement; Musée du Louvre to Arc de Triomphe; Champs-Élysées to Le Marais. But this year Foo ventures outside the remarkable city of Paris for a 3-day side trip to Brussels. And she's got one thing on her mind: chocolate.

As always, stay tuned for Blog updates as internet cafes and time betwixt adventure allows.