“Greetings, from French France,” she said as I stepped off the plane. Or maybe it was “au revoir”, my hearing’s never been great. But here’s a tip for you: remember to duck.

Paris: it’s cool.. with rain and wind.

Listen closely and I’ll teach you of this distant land. France is a cold and desolate place, filled with chic pigeons and short glimmers of sunshine as the clouds part, which fill you with hope for all of mere seconds. We sought solace in the loving grasp of tourist attractions.

Speaking of sights, they have something here called Starbucks, full of crisp coffee and chaude croissants. I hope we see it soon in far off Canada. If not, it’s certainly a reason to return.

The Louvre is huge, but not even its immense size could fully contain its collection of curio or line to the washroom. And let me tell you, friend, something you will surely not believe: for all the cost and trouble that went into its construction, whomever built it did not own a level. It was a theme common to our two days of travel. So if you’re looking for a gift for notoriously-difficult-to-shop-for Paris, I heartily recommend a leveling tool.

Now, military museums are really where it’s at if you, like Dayna, love celebrating the lives and subsequent deaths of millions.

Napoleon, as obese as two small cars, judging by his coffin. He was clearly a giant among men if we’ve taken anything from creeping on his eternal slumber.
His corpse is a national treasure, guarded gravely by very friendly men draped in what I hope were ceremonial machine guns. Maybe they know something we don’t – how long did it take Jesus to rise again?

Gift me wine, or gift me death they say here, constantly and regardless of context – must be a famous French adage. Their threats got to me, but while hiding from the mob I was sure was shortly to form, I found a stash of wine and even some k-bourg blancs, truly the roi of beers, in the furthest corner of a supermarche. Now we’re prepared.