That’s about the level of the French I was able to muster while in Paris in April. In other words, no better than I manage in Quebec. Considering French is one of this country’s official languages, the Ontario educational system has a lot to answer for. But thankfully, Parisians know which side their baguette is buttered on, and they’re pretty accommodating to oafish, unilingual North Americans. (Or maybe they would rather switch to English than hear us butcher one more word in their native tongue.)
Two months later, I’m still basking in post-Parisian bliss to some extent, which I guess shows how badly I needed a vacation. It was one of those rare occasions when the universe smiled.
I can’t share the macarons and the croissants and the street-vendor crepes. They’re long gone, my friends. But I can share a few images. Herewith the doors (and some windows) of Paris, or at least a few of the ones that caught my eye. I know, I know, the concept has been done to death. It’s all over Pinterest, which is pretty much an indication that it’s so last year. So feel free to call me unimaginative, derivative, a hack. When I’m on vacation, I shoot what amuses me.