Bonjour, nos amis! Nous sommes ici à Paris!

Or rather, we’re about to leave Paris, at 6:00 tomorrow morning. We got up early Sunday, took a taxi to Dover Priory station, took the train to Ashford International, and boarded the Eurostar for Paris. Two hours later we checked into the hotel Empereur at 2 Rue Chevert, 7th Arrondisement, Paris.

Danby was in charge of the Paris segment of our trip. We began by visiting the museum of the French WW2 resistance, brought to our attention by our friend Bobbie Ann Mason. We dined at a sidewalk cafe, as we have done every night of our visit here. After dinner we rode the Metro to the Trocadero to view La Tour Eiffel (Eiffel Tower to you.) Ah, Paris.

It must be firmly stated that on this trip we have observed none of the stereotypical French hauteur with which most Americans brand the Parisians. Quite the contrary. We were met by smiles and bonhommie at every encounter. From our experience here we would adjudge Paris one of the friendliest cities on the map. Granted, we initiated every conversation with our best French, which was generally succeeded by the Parisian’s even better English; but all our conversations have begun with a friendly bonjour succeeded by happy smiles all around.

Monday we visited the Louvre, along with five million other people. We saw the principal treasures: Venus de Milo, Winged Victory of Samothrace, Mona Lisa, Rembrandts, Vermeers, Michaelangelo sculptures, the hoi polloi of artworks.

After the Louvre we walked along the Champs-Elysées from the Arc de Triomphe to the Place de la Concorde. Now, I have sometimes heard it claimed that the French are not brave. I have to tell you that I saw not one but two Parisians—and one was a woman—brave the traffic swirling about the Arc de Triomphe on bicycle. The faint of heart do not venture there in automobiles. Those who bicycle through that Maelstrom, in my view, deserve the Legion of Honor for bravery.

Tuesday we walked through Montmartre, expertly guided, as always, by Rick Steves. It’s a delightful hilltop village where names like Van Gogh, Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso, and Edith Piaf crop up frequently. A giant church, windmills, can-can dance halls, schoolchildren on outings, and an agile rabbit somehow blend into a homogenous and satisfying whole. We’d heard the neighborhood can be seedy, so we visited in the morning, and we were happy with what we found.

More on Paris to follow. It’s getting late, and that 6:00 alarm is going to be hard to obey.