This was French food at its' close to best. I loved this restaurant because it reminded me of my mom. If she had a restaurant, this is exactly how it would be. Lace curtains, beautiful floral table settings, warm hospitality. Dinning at a fancy place in a language I don't speak gets me pretty nervous, but the staff was very welcoming and made us all feel readily at home. After a nice glass of champagne and some cheese biscuits, I had an amazing crayfish bisque then a classic French cassole' (again, spelling error) followed by a poached pear with hot chocolate and whipped cream. They pretty much had to roll us out the door. Tres Bon!
Death!!!! So I had the morning and afternoon free today, and after spending so much time with others, I thought that it might be nice to do something alone. So I figured that spending an hour below Paris surrounded by dead bodies would be a lovely thing to do. And it was. I kind of thought that the Catacombs would be corny, but I found it pretty amazing. It was a mile long walk through a maze of tunnels that eventually lead in to a bigger maze of skeletons. It kind of weirded me out at first, you could grab a skull and pick it up if you wanted to. The bones were just there, stacked up in neat piles. This would never exist in America. They would be kept out of reach behind plexiglass or something. I love trust. Faith that we'll all respect these remains. Granted that I did smuggle out a femur, this is the kind of thing that makes me not want to come home.