Paris was fabulous. Totally, completely worth the wait. We should have gone there more than five years ago when motoring in France, but detoured to visit a friend studying near Rennes. We should have been there on my actual birthday, but my poor father in law hurt his back. But the should haves meant that we were there on Valentine's Day instead, so what could be more romantic than that.
Oh, how we walked. And walked. And walked. From our hotel to Montmartre, skipping past all the tourists having their portraits drawn, drinking in the view from Sacre Coeur over Paris, and then moving away from the mass of tourists to the kind of France we love. Just wandering. Stopping and looking up tiny streets, shrugging, and following winding steps up and down, back and forth.
This was our lunch, in a tiny delicatessan which only had two tables (so definitely not a tourist trap). Corsican specialities, followed by lemon tarte and delicious coffee. Feet and stomach rested and filled.
We wandered on, people watching, window shopping and enjoying just being Mr and Mrs MacOlsson. And treated ourselves to Sunday brunch at the most elegant tea salon ever. Ladurée. Not cheap, but incredibly chic, and incredibly French. Did we catch a glimpse of the lovely Audrey Tatou? If not her, a very close likeness.
We had delightful neighbours, very unFrench French, who when they heard us speaking Swedish wondered where we came from. And when they heard that I was from Scotland, became rapturous. Ten years ago, they had camped for two weeks in Bonnie Scotland. It rained every day. And on the last day, on the Isle of Skye, he proposed to her. Scotland has that effect on people. Its not just the French who understand romance!
Finally, the wine. I imagine one would be completely fluent in French after this. Perhaps that is the secret.