Saturday we met up with our Parisien friends, Kelli and Steve. As seasoned Paris travelers they brought us around the city leading us to Jim Morrison's grave, where Steve shed a tear, then up Montmartre to l'eglise Sacre Coeur, where Kelli shed a tear as the restaurant with a view and des moules just didn't exist. We did happen to find a quaint authentic restaurant with no tourists and both patrons and servers speaking only French. Perfect. After 'a few' bottles of wine at Kelli and Steve's apartment we appropriately selected Mon Vieil Ami for dinner and took the last time slot available at 1030pm. With supplies running low, Steve wisely suggested the nearby wine shop, frommagerie, and boulangerie to provide some much needed time killers. Notes from today; if you rent a bike from a self-serve station be sure to check for flat tires. Sorry Julie, at least it was only 3km -- get buried in Paris, they know how to build serious mausoleums -- the Paris metro is the greatest public transit in the world -- and no hour is too late to begin dinner, as long as you continue to eat/drink between all meals.
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