I Love Paris In The Springtime

Paris. The ever eternal, beautiful city. Pity about the weather this time around. Drizzle to heavy rain, freezing cold, further Arctic conditions. In one sense it does lessen the tourist crowds... I'm glad it's not a first time visit otherwise it would be so miserable. But walking the cobbled streets is still enchanting, examining the menus of the numerous restaurants (and the unfortunate large number of closed premises) and the funky and charming boutiques is sufficient reason to brave the weather. A trudge through the old haunt of St Germain brought back old memories of the first visit staying on Rue Monsieur le Prince, and enlightened new discoveries such as the delightful Cire Trudon shop and wickedly amazing patissiers.The long evening light, even through the cloud and grey mist is so beautiful and eating late (for me, not the Continent) is no bother at all. The studio is on Ile St Louis just past the gorgeous local church far away enough from the maddening crowds and incessant American accents. Third floor, exposed wooden ceiling beams, Louis furniture with luxuriant curtains and super comfortable bed. The bathroom is disappointing - only because there is not a shower fixture and the shower arm attached to the bath is only suitable for migets. Do inadequate facilities such as this make it too frustrating to have a daily wash and contribute to the reputation of the stinky, unclean French?!
Or rather, are the French born with cigarettes in their mouths? Virtually everyone, young, old, the glamorous and the barely presentable - everyone seems to be sucking on cancer sticks as if their lives depended on it. Along footpaths are the worst, I find it amongst the most abusively arrogant things to have no consideration for whom the exhaled smoke attacks. First night. Mussels (yes they were tiny and not the best quality - they are right in Bruges), confit de canard and creme brulé. €17. Bargain.