All the Way to Paris for My First Caramel Macchiato

I'm sorry that my last few posts have been boring stuff about French administration. The weekend was substantially better, especially after my success at the prefecture.

Friday night we invited one of my colleagues over for dinner. Adrien works in the Detroit office, but has taken a temporary assignment in Méru for a few months while he waits for a new visa. After we shared a bottle and a half of wine, he decided to crash on our futon for the night.

On Saturday I met Jeanne in Paris for lunch and a photography exhibit. We wandered around Saint Michel, which she knows well from her studies at La Sorbonne. Being in Paris with someone who knows the city intimately makes everything look different. She knew where all the best independent movie theaters, bakeries, and sushi restaurants were in that little corner of Paris.

In the end, the exhibit was closed (so French), and we ended up just walking and talking. Jeanne noticed with amazement that Starbucks had finally infiltrated Paris (remember, she spent the past 4 years living in Michigan). When I confessed that I'd never had a caramel macchiato, she promptly dragged me into the closest shop and ordered two. It was fantastic. Why haven't I tried that before??

"God bless America!"

Sunday morning we got up early and went into the city to watch the Paris marathon. We picked a nice spot on a corner at the 26 mile marker, and huddled against the cold while we watched the racers struggle - or sometimes trot seemingly effortlessly - through the last part of the race.

The best part for me was seeing a blind runner. He had a guide running alongside him, gently steering him by touching his elbow and muttering things in his ear. He was running under a 3 hour marathon, and we were duly impressed. And I was inspired by the guide's dedication and personal commitment to the runner. At our corner a security guard tried to take the guide off the course for not wearing the official marathon bib number, but the guide roughly pushed him away and never left the runner's side.

Anyway, after watching the race for a while we met Wally at the Frog & Rosbif for brunch. Then that night we met my brother's boss and her family, who happened to be in town on vacation, for dinner. We went to the steakhouse off of the Champs-Elysees, then to HagenDaaz around the corner. In hindsight, it was a pretty American dinner. At least we didn't follow it with a trip to Starbucks.