people watching from café charlot as the neighborhood bustled with saturday morning proved colorful and fascinating -- families shopped for flowers and cheese, antique shops brimmed with curiosities, lady friends talked over wine at eleven in the morning.
we meandered, in awe of grand doors and narrow streets.
our hearts skipped beats in place des vosges, the oldest planned square in paris.
i scribbled notes on all i saw -- children clad in neutrals and never bicycle helmets, men in top hats and overcoats on vespas, women in little makeup, all appearing impossibly polished.
an expat shop owner directed us to café des musées for steak frites -- i know the butcher, she said -- and what became our favorite meal. we wandered in out of the cold and were served a bottle of red wine and he smiled with that dimple like he does and i thought, well, isn't this just about it.