We went to Montmartre. Miguel says when we retire he wants to go and sell paintings to tourists, in the square outside Sacre Coeur. It was a beautiful day and the view from up there was amazing, hazy Paris spread out to the horizon. And a minstel in a box on the terrace, playing a piece of music I recognized as one they often had on CBC when I was pregnant with Kirsten. Everyone up there jsut sitting quietly and listening, arms around each other.

Later, the Champs Elysee and the Arc de Triomphe at 11 pm, wavering flame on the tomb of the unknown soldier, cars honking around and around, as we sat out of the wind. We talked about how seeing it in person put everything in place, gave surroundings to all the often-seen pictures.

When we finally returned to the hotel, we found that we only had one (wet) towel -- and not any of the three we had been entrusted with. As we checked out, Miguel told them, as we didn't want to be charged, and the woman at the front desk proceeded to yell at the chambermaid...