Musee D'Art et Métier

When Mary-Anne said she wanted to go to Paris on the way to Marbella I must confess to being less than excited. However, as a good husband I felt that it was only right for me to indulge my wife once in a while. :-) For some reason, my memories of Paris are a combination of the Eiffel Tower, which we parked beneath in our caravan when I was a child, I remember the angry Gendarmes and a general grey dreariness, which originates from a fleeting visit about 30 years ago.

As is so often the cas with me, when I am expecting little I get a lot, conversely when my expectations are high disappointment inevitably follows. What Paris was in my memory created a low expectation that enabled my recent experience to soar way beyond where it would otherwise have reached. Perhaps the city, like London, has undergone a transformation in recent years, or maybe I was unlucky on my previous visit, whatever the reasons though, I found the city, outer hotel and the places I visited, utterly enchanting.

We stayed at a small hotel in the St Germaine district called the Da Vinci, apparently some if his art was stored their in the war. The first myth that was broken regards French aloofness, the staff could not have been more felicitacious, they were kind,meatiest and funny, it wouldn't have mattered if the hotel itself was Mediocre, it wasn't, it was charming and meticulously presented, but nevertheless it was the way we were treated that made it special.

This kindness and humour was far from the exception, it was the theme running through our visit and the thing that surprised me the most given the bad rep the place has managed to gain in this department. We walked 12 miles in two days, saw many sights, tasted many flavours but the pinnacle of the visit came on the second evening when Mary-Anne went to a special healing mass and I was allowed to wander on my own.