Boat Shmoat, We're Going to Paris - Part 9

Wednesday was a day off, so we decided to visit the Palace of Versailles. I had been there when I was a kid and remembered the palace as a place of wonder, gilt in gold. Vast rooms were decorated opulently with embroidered silk upholstery, carved velvets on the walls, and heavy tassels hung from satin curtains. Furniture and moldings were covered in real gold as were fixtures. Vases were filled with solid gold roses. Crystal chandeliers dotted the ceilings. Tables were laid with elaborately decorated china, solid gold cutlery and crystal stemware on table cloths of silk. The symbol of the sun for Louis IV, the sun king, was emblazoned everywhere. Everything was made of colored marble, inlaid with the greatest care. There were rooms upon rooms filled with these treasures that I wanted to share with Sean.

After our café and croissant breakfast, we took the metro to Versailles and made our way to the Palace. The gates that I remembered as being so tall and topped with shiny gold when I was a girl were not that tall now and the luster was off the gold. The fee was about $20 each to get in but we paid anyway as the money went towards restoration of the palace.

The most disappointing thing was that the decorated rooms were far fewer (only three or so) and not open to visitors until the summer. What a bummer to have come all this way and not be able to share my memories with Sean. Plus, the famed chapel was also closed. We wandered up and down the weathered looking marble halls of this once great looking palace that now looked beaten down and much like it needed a good sweeping and dusting; maybe even a wipe with a damp cloth. Even the hall of mirrors looked a bit dull. Maybe it was because of the bright and shiny childhood memories I was comparing it to. Sean seemed to think that Versailles looked a bit beat too, though.

Things we did see:

Things we did not see but I remember:

We looked out a window at the gardens, which when I was there as a kid were in full August bloom, but now it was grey and cold. The park is beautiful, but it was too breezy and raw to explore today. So, with regret, we left the palace and headed for town to scout for lunch.

We were really hungry and in no time we found a McDonalds. A McDonalds in Versailles you might ask. Yes, readers, a McDonalds in Versailles. What is even stranger is that we ate there. We just really needed comfort food. We scarfed down a couple of burgers each and got back on the metro to go back to Paris.

We arrived back at our hotel some time later. Tonight we were invited out to dinner by the vice president of intercontinental clinical research, Dr. P. Dr. P was in Paris to visit his wife’s family who lives there and typically his office is in the US. I had known Dr. P for several years as we had worked together on a project earlier and had some good times. We were working together now on integrating later phase studies with early phase studies as part of the initiatives. We were supposed to meet him at Chez Françis. For this special occasion, I was going to wear my Fendi cocktail dress. I bought the dress while shopping with a good friend at a very chic mall that had a Fendi store. We entered and while I was looking at sweaters, she pulled the dress off of the rack and yelled, “Sue! Look at this dress! This will look fabulous on you! Try it on!”

This is not the actual dress, but you get the idea.

I looked at the price tag. It had been marked down from $3,000 to $800. I thought, well, it will never fit anyhow. But I took it into the try on room and damn if it didn’t fit as if it were made for me. God it just looked really great. I had to buy it. You understand that, don’t you? So, home I went with my purchase. It was one of those, honey, guess how much money I saved, purchases. But, Sean has always taken the view that it is my money and I can spend it on what ever I want. He loves the dress anyhow. Well, tonight was the perfect occasion to wear it. Dinner in Paris with a vice president. If not now, then when? I felt like a little princess in that dress.

We took the metro to Chez Françis and waited for Dr. P while we enjoyed the view of the Eiffel Tower across the Seine (which is what the restaurant is known for). Right on time at 8:30 he and his wife, Madame J showed up. We entered the restaurant, took our coats off and right away Dr. P complemented me on my dress. I was tempted to say, oh this rag, something I just threw on. But I didn’t. I told them the story. They were quite amused. Dr. P gave us a book, At Home in Paris, and we thanked him profusely.

We ordered dinner. His French was impeccable, but with some French Canadian accent, as he is from Canada. After our ordering was done, he leaned forward and said to me, in his best god father voice, “So, did they make you an offer that you can’t refuse?” The he smiled.

We all laughed because he knew exactly what had happened to me. I guess they pull that with all the candidates. Bring them in unsuspecting and then show them the contract and pressure them to sign right away.

“Yes. But I told them that I will have to go home and look it over before I sign.”

His smile grew even larger and he said, “Good for you! Look it over carefully. Make sure they aren’t pulling any crap on you.” Then the conversation drifted to more social matters and we all got along swimmingly as if we had been friends for years. We ended up walking with them towards their home and our hotel.

Sunday Comics - Oliver Frey's Tender Bait Part 1

Remember, to read the text, click on the cartoons to enlarge.

Pete of Finland is running another Oliver Frey series called "Tender Bait". Enjoy the first half here, here, here, here and here. Hopefully I will have the second half by next Sunday. Enjoy!

Friday Fantasy - Mr. Brazil 2007

VOTING IS OVER! THE WINNER IS GLEIBER!!!!

A record breaking five people voted. In a stunning victory over his competitors, the vastly overlooked Gleiber was able to dominate the competion and pull ahead for the win. It wasn't even close. I have to admit, that this blogger had chosen him as a favorite too. So, thanks to those who took the time to vote: Mr. Tickle, Peter from Amsterdam, A Boy, G Cracker and Goldeneye.

I never tire of Brazilians. Is it just me? They are the hottest men in the world. My fantasy this week is that I get to choose Mr. Brazil 2007, who will represent Brazil in the Mr. World competitions in March. Scratch that. He will come here to my own little private party orgy at Fair View. If you vote, you too may be invited to cum. (Just a leettle teesny pun there!) Of course the official Mr. Brazil has already been chosen and he is Lucas. The first runner up is Alan and the second runner up is Thiago. But, looking at the field, I don’t think I agree that Lucas is who I would choose at all, at least for my orgy. How about you? I have carefully selected 8 of the sexiest men of the 27 candidates (via Made in Brazil) for your perusal. Here they are:

Lucas

Alan

Thiago

Marcos

GLEIBER - WINNER

Francineudo

Rafael

Edson

Please select your top three men (the winner, the runner up and the second runner up) and maybe mention what you would like them to do to you, or you would like to do to them. Winners will be announced Saturday night.

The Gospel of Luke - Part 2

I was also a real jock at school. Well, as much as one can be at 5 feet 3 inches and 95 pounds. I was captain of the synchronized swimming team (please don’t laugh), on the gymnastics team, ran track, and played intramural volleyball. I was invited by the coaches to play soccer and field hockey, but my mom wouldn’t give me permission because I had braces on my teeth and she didn’t want to ruin her investment.

I took advanced placement biology and English and got good grades in everything but French. I won a Regents Scholarship that would pay for my tuition if I attended college in New York State. That was important because there would be 4 of us in college at the same time, me, my sister, my brother and my mom, who was going for her doctorate in English Literature at Stony Brook. Her only income was as a high school English teacher. I wanted to major in art, and showed great talent and promise throughout my education and especially in senior year, but mom said that she would not pay for me to study anything but science. My brother, Verne had already been at a state school at Cornell studying plant biology for two years and my twin sister Evie was accepted at Notre Dame to study chemical engineering.

I applied to three schools and Cayuga was the only one that I was accepted at. I applied to Nassau Community College, but they were overwhelmed with applications and had a lottery and guess who didn’t win. I also applied to Binghamton, but was not accepted there either. So, Cayuga it was where I was planning to major in biology.

Luke and I continued to fool around with our pants on (dry humping – pathetic I know) until late one summer night we were out laying down on the lawn in my pitch dark backyard. We could hear the cicadas in the sycamore trees above us whirring loudly. We had progressed to the point where he was putting his hand into my pants for the first time, which I really liked because he had these big long fingers that were really strong and dexterous from playing all that organ music. Let’s just say that he was really good at manual masturbation. I was also putting my hand into his pants. Actually he just pulled his erection out of his pants for the first time and it was huge. He showed me how to stroke it and I did my level best. As I did it, his breathing got faster, his head rolled back and his mouth slacked open. His legs began to flex uncontrollably. I became a little frightened. What was happening to him? This couldn’t be good. So I stopped and rolled over away from him. He said, “Why did you stop?” I only whimpered in response. “Did you get bored?” He said angrily in a mocking tone as if it had happened before.

“No, I was scared of what was happening.” I replied meekly.

“Oh, no Susie. There is nothing to be scared of. I was enjoying it. Everything is going to be okay.” He said sympathetically. He cuddled me closely and I felt comforted and I understood that that is how men react when they are turned on and it is a good thing. So I turned back to him and continued stroking. He had lost some of his erection, but it came back quickly. Not that much later, I watched in awe as he came for the first time with me and his semen spurted onto his mostly hairless stomach and chest. Then he lay back quietly, sated. He had his thoughts and I had mine.

I was jealous that he had such an obvious marker of his orgasm while I did not. I wasn’t even sure if I had had an orgasm yet. What he did felt good, sure. But an orgasm, who could tell? I certainly couldn’t. This is what I thought as I lay beside him in the green summer grass; he being sated and I who knew not.

At some point during the week, my mom told me that Luke had another girl friend at her high school. She was a pretty Jewish girl named Valerie and Luke walked around the school with his arm around her. I even knew the girl. My response was, “So what?” I was pretty sure that Valerie wouldn’t let Luke get too far with her sexually since she was Jewish anyhow. Besides, I would rather have been dating Luke than no one at all.

My Pride and Joy - Ralph Glory Blooms

Long ago, my brother gifted me with a Ralph Glory orchid. That is genus Phaphiopedilum, or the slipper of Aphrodite, for you purists. It was blooming when he gave it to me, of course, and I figured that I would never see this lovely plant from the Himalayas bloom again.

I put it into the bathroom, figuring that it needed lots of humidity and that nearly killed it. Next, I moved it into a fish tank to help it recover, but it just looked even more unhappy in there. Years went by. I gave up on it. I moved it to the stainless steel wire shelving unit in the kitchen where there is lots of foot traffic, but the sun is bright. I stopped looking at it.

Then, my brother visited and glanced at the plant. He said, "Wow, this is a happy orchid! Is this the Ralph Glory I gave you?"

Sure enough it was. He noted a new flower spike coming from within a new growth of leaves. That was last year. It is blooming again this year and Sean took a photo. I guess the Ralph Glory has found a new home. Now my brother wants to gift me with more orchids.

Isn't it pretty?

Boat Shmoat, We're Going to Paris - Part 8

The next morning I awoke and my back was aching from sleeping on the floor. I was still a bit jet lagged too. But I was thrilled to be in Paris and really nervous about my busy day of interviews. I had five interviews scheduled and lunch with Dr. A. I took a nice hot shower and dressed in my brand new size 2 stylish Isabel Ardee designer pants suit with a white silk blouse and Italian designer made shoes. I accessorized with mabe pearl earrings and my pearl necklace and the hand bag I had bought in Rome. I felt like a million bucks. Well, at least I looked like a million bucks. Sean wished me luck and I kissed him goodbye as I left.

I went down the elevator and checked out the hotel’s breakfast offerings. They were way too expensive. They wanted more then $20 for coffee and a croissant. So I headed for the metro. The Porte Maillot station is just across the street from our hotel and I entered and bought a ticket from the automated machine for the straight shot ride to La Defense. I people watched the whole way there. Parisian women have a certain style all their own. They always look put together as if they own mirrors and use them. Their make up is well done; accessories, such as scarves, are colorful and well thought out. The women I saw were all on the cusp of style.

The La Defense stop was busy with commuters. There were lots of exit options but it was not difficult to figure out where to go. Once upstairs and outside again, I could right away see the Grande Arche and what a stunner it was! The design was part of a contest begun by French President François Mitterand. Johann Otto von Spreckelsen won with his design of a four dimensional cube or tesseract, but he died in 1987 before the completion of the Grande Arche in 1989/90. The dimensions of the cube are 108 x 110 x 112 meters and the sides are made out of Carrara marble and glass. The Arche was inaugurated in July 1989 to celebrate the bicentenary of the French Revolution.

My company’s offices were housed in the Grande Arche. But first, my stomach was growling and I had to get something to eat. I saw the CNIT center across the plaza and went to check it out. Inside there was indeed a small area on the left that served food. So I sat down. In no time a server was with me asking what I wanted. I ordered some café and a croissant and wolfed it down when it arrived. As usual the coffee was served with a bit of dark chocolate and the crystallized sugar on a stick (yum) and the croissant was rich and buttery, though I did add some more butter. My size 2 pants were beginning to feel a bit tight. No, no, that was all in my head. I looked at my watch and it was time to go to my first interview.

I paid and left. I crossed the plaza in no time and climbed the steps of the Arche, which are higher than they look once you are on them. Also, the plaza beyond the steps is broader than one might imagine. I entered the glassed in lobby and went up to the reception desk. I said, “Bonjour!” with a big smile and then switched to English because I wanted to make sure I was understood. The receptionist smiled and said, “Hello!” back. I told her that I was there to meet with Dr. A at 9:30 AM and she called upstairs to let them know I was there. Then she proceeded to take my name, company name, etc. to create a security badge for me. She typed it all into a computer, snapped a photo and out came a photo identification badge just for me. This was pretty impressive given that it was 1997. A woman came down who spoke very little English, but apparently was Dr. A’s secretary to escort me upstairs. We ran into some other employees on the way to Dr. A’s office and they all smiled and said hello as if they knew who I was and asked me if it was my first day at work. This had me totally confused. Didn’t they know I was there for an interview?

I was shown into Dr. A’s office. She soon arrived and asked her secretary, in French, to bring us coffee. Yum, more coffee. I let Dr. A take the lead during the interview. She went through the types of problems I would be dealing with on this job. I would be interacting with the clinical research heads of each of the 17 European countries who report to her and are all strong minded individuals and essentially telling them how to do their jobs. She then detailed the problems, country by country by personality of the country head and with ethnic stereotyping. I thought, well that is just lovely (not). She told me that I would be flying around most of the time making my case for the clinical initiatives. The job sounded just about impossible, but I would be living in Paris and traveling around Europe with Sean on weekends. It could be a dream come true. I couldn’t think of anyone who could take a better stab at this mission impossible than me. Her inbox was stacked two feet high with unread mail. She said that she would just give it to me to go through on my first day. I felt that the interview was going very well. Our time was up and I stood and shook her hand. We both smiled.

My next interview was with Monsieur P, President of Human Resources, France. He was average height, dark hair, middle aged, and his suit looked stylish and tailor made. It probably cost major bucks. I didn’t like the way he shook my hand. You know how some men shake a woman’s hand and won’t grasp it all the way like they would a man’s. They just hold gingerly onto the front as if it might break. I hate that. But I gave him a big smile anyhow. I went into his office and he motioned me to a chair and I sat down. He began to talk, and I began to sell myself. He kind of just looked at me and said something like, “Well when you start you will be doing this…”

I was flabbergasted as I thought holy shit does he mean that I have the job? Suddenly I couldn’t focus on what he was saying so I interrupted and said, “Wait. Stop. Are you saying that I have got this job?”

He replied, “Yes. I thought you knew. We should have your contract ready for you to sign before this Friday and it can be all set this week.”

I was completely stunned and in shock to say the least. Part of me was excited and celebrating, jumping up and down cheering, saying hooray for me!!! I got the dream job in PARIS. I get to live in PARIS. The other part of me was saying, gee, why didn’t Dr. A tell me? And holy shit, how am I going to do this shitty ass job? And that explains why the whole office assumed it was my first day. And I wonder what is in the contract? And how can I possibly break it to them that I cannot sign the contract this week? All of this was boiling up in my head as I was sitting there trying to listen to Monsieur P.

Ultimately, I decided that it was most important to tell Monsieur P that I could not possibly sign the contract by Friday as I would have to take it back home to examine the financial aspects more closely. I did manage to work that into the conversation at some point, but he assured me that the final package would be so attractive that I would have a difficult time saying no. I told him that I couldn’t wait to see it and he told me it should be available by the end of today.

I was quite excited when it came time to leave his office, but kept my cool and gave my warmest half handshake, which was all he would allow. I had to wait a bit for Dr. A for lunch. Before then, I went to the office ladies room. In Europe, most of the restrooms are coed; there is one for both sexes. I sure wish it was this way in the U.S. because it would solve the problem of long lines at stadiums, theaters and movies for ladies rooms. Those always get my goat. It is that way at restaurants also.

Dr. A showed up, and we began walking back to the CNIT place where there is an Italian restaurant for lunch. On the way I chided her for not telling me that I had the job. She looked at me and said, “Oh, I thought I had. Did I not? Sorry about that.” She said it as if it was nothing to her. Sigh.

We had a delightful lunch. You know, just us gals chatting about this and that. The weight of selling my self was really off and I could relax and be my usual charming self. She mentioned that I should reward my self for getting the job and treat my husband by taking ourselves to the five star fish restaurant next to our hotel that is one of the best in Paris. I shamefacedly admitted that we went there last night. She grinned as she asked how we liked it. I reported that we just loved their three fish dish. Two hours later, we returned to the office.

My next two appointments were with people who worked with Dr. A. But the pressure was off and these just flew by. I just couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and tell Sean that I got the job. One more thing, I had to see if the contract was ready. So, I stopped by Monsieur P’s office and his assistant handed it to me, hot off the press. I grabbed it and ran to the metro.

Once on the metro, I started to read the contract. It was surprisingly short. The first thing I noticed was that there was no car. There also was no allowance for the loss of Sean’s income, or subsidy for living in Paris. There was a good salary increase, commensurate with the level increase, but no cost of living increase for Paris. The mortgage coverage for our house in the US was underestimated by about 25%. On the face of it, it seemed a disaster. But, I was sure there must have been some miscommunication between the US human resources and the French. This was nothing like what was promised by Ms. S of the manicured nails. That must have been the problem, a lack of communication. I was sure I could get that sorted out. I tried not to be too let down. I could make this happen. I would not give up.

I got back to the hotel and greeted Sean with a big wet kiss and the happy news! He had no idea that I could be hired on the day of my interview and come home with a contract in hand. We speedily were on the same page as far as the contract. We really are kindred spirits and had already discussed it. We were in high spirits that night as we headed out for dinner. We ate at a diner and had another fabulous meal. I had fettuccine pasta with salmon strips. This meal could have easily gone astray had one over cooked the salmon, but it was done perfectly and the salmon remained tender. Sean had a mushroom stew that he said was wonderful.

Constest Winners - Europe's Sexiest Swimmers

THE VOTING IS CLOSED! There have been over 700 visitors during the 2 day contest period. Only 11 have voted. I owe a special thanks to those who took the time to vote. THANK YOU VOTERS!!! First off, Shaney corrected me by saying that it was not a smorgasbord, but a smORGYbord. Thank you so much for the correction. You are sooooo right. The winners are:



With an overall score of 7.7, E, the Fin with the gray long legged suit.

In second place, is D, with an overall score of 7.2.

There is a tie for third place between A and F at a score of 6.5 each.

Here are some quotes for the winners:

For E from Daniel:

Hi, I’m Chip and I love to cuddle.

For D from Daniel:

Don’t stand up yet.

and from Mr. Tickle:

You’re my ~guy~!

For A from Daniel:

So, do you live near here?

and from Mr. Tickle:

You’re cute and irresistible and I feel light headed looking at you.

For F from Mr. Tickle:

How do you get such great definition? Can I run my fingers over your body?

Friday Fantasy - Sexiest European Swimmer Contest

These photos are from the 2006 European Short Course Swimming championships which were held in December in Helsinki, bringing together the top swimmers in Europe. Finneye shot the event for Outsports.

Swim faster or you will be late for the contest!!!

Today we are having a contest at Fair View that requires reader participation. That means YOU! So get your hand out of your pants and get ready to vote for the sexiest European Short Course Swimmer! Here are the entrants who were scientifically selected from the galleries of Outsports magazine. (The scientific methods are patent protected. Right.) All you have to do is rank all of the contestants with a score from 10 to 1 (10 being the highest, 1 being the lowest; you know “10” like in the movie with Bo Derek?). Incomplete/incorrect votes will not count. So be careful voting and you can click on each picture to enlarge for all your fantasy voting needs.Each contestant is assigned a letter from A to J. So if you think A is to die for cute, and you would definitely give him a tumble, assign him a 10. If you think A is someone you would toss out of bed (yeah right), give him a 1. Though, I will have to say, none of these guys will fit that bill. After all they are swimmers and young and wearing skin tight tiny suits. So here we go:

A: Guy tugging at crotch of his suit

B: Guy with hands on hips, arching backwards

C: Guy with tiny blue suit talking with coach

D. Guy in full suit, bending over shaking hands

E: The Fin wearing grey long leg suit

F: Guy holding his cap and goggles

G: The Italian using the pool ladder

H: The guy with the water bottle

I: The guy yanking his suit by the hips

J: The guy in the blue suit being followed

I tell ya, it is a regular smorgasbord of hotties. Don’t you agree? So have fun and leave plenty of comments. You must realize how difficult it has been for me not to. Winners will be tallied by our Fair View computers and be announced on Sunday.

The Gospel of Luke - Part 1

Luke used to sing madrigals in the choir at school and play the organ at his church. No kidding. I think we made every organ joke on the planet and he suffered them all with a straight face. He had been accepted to a religious college that specialized in these and I think they had one of the biggest organs in at a college in Northeast America. (I couldn’t help but giggle.) I think he wanted to teach music.

His college's organ

A group of madrigal singers

The next time we were in my room alone together and I was cold. I had inherited this room from my brother Verne, when he went off to college two years earlier. We sat on the bed and Luke kissed me. I told him that my feet were cold and he took off my shoes and began rubbing my feet. All I could think was that I hope they didn’t smell too bad. Luke was such a gentleman really. He was tender and slow with me. He showed me how to kiss and then moved on to kissing my ears, which I loved, my neck, and then he opened my shirt and undid my bra and kissed my breasts and that was wonderful. He put his hand on my jean clad knee and stroked it up towards my crotch and I couldn’t help but rise up a bit to meet the pressure, it felt so good. Then he stopped and said that his erogenous zones were the same and it was my turn to try on him. So I kissed his mouth, ear, and neck, pulled up his polo shirt and kissed his nipple, then I looked down at his jeans and I could see the head of his erect penis emerging from the waist band of his jeans. It looked all cooped up in there, maybe even painful, and I wanted to free it so I unbuttoned the top of his jeans and unzipped the fly. Right there he grabbed my wrist and stopped me and said, “Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”

I didn’t understand quite what he meant. But then suddenly, we heard the front door of the house open and Lance’s voice say, “Are they upstairs?” We didn’t have long to get presentable and we could hear him charging up the stairs and then he burst in the room and said, “Caught ya!” But we were pretty much dressed. Luke’s pants were up and zipped and his polo shirt was hanging un-tucked hiding his erection. My shirt was buttoned but my bra was not hooked and my shoes were off. I was angry as a wet hen. How dare he burst into my room; he didn’t even knock. I was at a loss for words and left just brushing past him and heading for the bathroom. Once there, I fixed my bra. When I came out everyone was in the living room downstairs and Lance said, “Everything back in place?”

Boat Shmoat, We're Going to Paris - Part 7

We used our map to navigate a short way back to Le Méridian Étoile, our hotel, and enjoyed Paris on our way. There really are no ugly places in downtown Paris. Everywhere you turn there is a surprise of beauty waiting for your eyes to feast on. No kidding. I shit you not. Go there and see for yourself. On our way we passed the nearby Musée D’Art Moderne but we could not take the time to go in and look around.

The inside of a room just like ours. The beds are pushed so close together not for l'amour, but because the room is so small. A window and the opposite wall are just outside of the photo.

We arrived back at our hotel and our room was on the third floor. We took the elevator up and the room faced out onto the street and the street noise was just unbearable. So, we went back to the desk to see if there was another room available either higher up on another floor, or facing the courtyard. Sadly, they told us the hotel was full. Yeah, right. So, we had to make do. Not, so bad, we were in Paris for free after all. I was tired, needed to unpack my suit case, had a big day of interviews tomorrow and just wanted to relax. I proposed to Sean that we just stay in. He was all energized and wanted to continue to explore. Fine. We compromised. I would stay in and unpack and rest, while he would go out and explore. Between the French he had studied at home from tapes and the little bits I had coached him on, such as, “How much is that please?”, “I would like one of those, please.”, and “Thank you very much.”, I felt confident that he would be all set.

Some time later, when I was all unpacked and resting in bed he came back with three pastry bags. Three pastry bags. Oh, and a huge grin of accomplishment on his face.

“I could live here.” he declared. “I can go into a store and buy stuff. I have just proven it. My French is good enough.” Again the big goofy grin. He held the bags out to me and I looked inside. There had to be enough French pastries to clog our arteries until we got home. He had bought éclairs, Napoleons, fruit tarts (those were for me), cream puffs, tiny chocolate croissants, you name it and it was in there. “I amused all of the ladies in the store too. They giggled at my French and I just went with it. I had a really great time.”

I said, “Sean, who is going to eat all of this stuff. We have no refrigerator here.”

He got a doubtful look on his face and said, “I will.” Then he smiled. Somehow I had no doubt that he would be in his element here.

When dinner time at around came at around 7 pm, we headed to the closest restaurant, the one right next to the hotel. It was a five star Southern French fish establishment featuring specialties from Province. The décor was also of a style reminiscent of a store back home called Souleiado. See photos below for examples of the décor.

So we felt right at home. The maître d’ asked in French if we had a reservation, even though we could clearly see that the establishment was empty of customers. We soon became aware that this was typical in all French restaurants. I replied in French that we were sorry and did not. He must have taken pity on us poor uninformed bourgeois Americans because he gave us the best table in the house, in the back up on a raised area, surrounded by a valance of curtains and piled high with throw pillows. Either that or he wanted to hide us from passers-by that might see that he had been gauche enough to seat diners before the trendy 8:30 pm dining hour or he just rewarded me for using my pathetic French.

We both ordered a three fish dish and were astounded at how wonderful the food tasted. We also ordered one of the suggested wines which of course was terrific with the meal. Guess that is how they got five stars. We thanked our server profusely and complemented the chef. I tried not to notice how much the bill was for, but it was the most we spent the entire time we were in Paris and apparently this was the fanciest restaurant we dined at the entire time we were there (that we paid for). We just didn’t know it at that time.

We returned to our hotel and I was completely sleepy and ready for bed. Tomorrow was a really big day crammed with interviews. But the damned street noise kept me up all night. I took the blankets off of my twin bed into the entry vestibule and slept on the floor there for more quiet. At least I got some shut eye.