Memories: The First Time in Paris

There’s a possibility that I’ll get in late this evening – probably not, but a gal can always hope. Just in case, I figured I’d put up a quick little post before I go out, just an anecdote.

The first time I came to Paris I stayed here for a month in the summer of ’94. At the end of that month, my husband joined me here. I said to my husband that I couldn’t see where Parisians got their reputation. I was finding that everyone was just sweet and lovely, and downright friendly on occasion.

“Hé?” He looked at me shocked for a moment and then said, “Ouais, b’en sûr. You come from the one city where people are ruder. No wonder you think this is friendly.”

New Yorkers, rude? Who knew. Well, I still think my ex is wrong and Parisians are surprisingly friendly.

 

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