Going to America

Our time in France was limited and here it was the moment that had once seemed so far in the future. Time to venture back to California. While Momo was not going to miss the insistent rain, she would miss France very much. The croissants, the bread, pastries, cheese, the shoes, and even the big old Metro. L&P knew something was up when all the toys disappeared into suitcases.

Speaking of suitcases, it must be some sort of cosmic act of physics that makes the stuff larger than when it first got packed because it sure doesn't fit going the other way. We even tossed tons of stuff the fake French laundry had destroyed. But thankfully Mr. Momo was able to get every little thing in the suitcases, with the exception of his shaver charger cord which is still in France somewhere. We did manage to bring home the extra zip-lock bags. So what's a little shaver charger compared to zip lock bags I ask?

Once again, CDG airport seems to defy logic, in French or in English. And can anyone tell me if there is an airport on this globe that is not currently going through "renovation" which is code for "will get done three generations hence"?

First, we must return our rental car. Mr. Momo seems to have a brain that completely understands the madcap mapping system in France and he knew the way. Momo didn't even try because she was trying to avoid the migraine. L&P were of no help at all. They would have led us back to the croissants. The rental car place was not accessible in the direction we were going unless we made a u-turn which is signified by some strange sign that only Mr. Momo figured out. So we passed the place just once which is a good start. Upon returning the car we would get a van ride to the terminal and hopefully to the terminal from which our plane was leaving. Voila, to the right terminal.

The construction prohibited us from actually driving to the terminal, only to the end of it. If you can picture an airport of that size, you can imagine that our United Airlines would without a doubt be at the furthest point from where we were dropped off. Indeed. Oui. With luggage cart, a stroller filled with the L&P and two carry bags, off we go in search of our airline. Starting out with optimism, we enter the terminal and realize that CDG was really as bad as we had first encountered and our time in France learning about French directional signs was useless still. There were no signs. So we hiked and hiked until we came to the United Airlines counter. They have just a couple of flights so the lines were split between the two flights. The staff in France has a great deal of French character and it felt like we were still in France although many more people were speaking English. It was nice to hear, but we were beginning to miss France even then.

First you hand someone your passport and they check you off like when you go to a restaraunt with a reservation. Too bad they don't actually seat you and feed you. Then you go to another line and they actually take your information again and give you a boarding pass. Our luggage was just slightly over the limit but they were kind enough to not make us repack as they did the charming young woman in front of us who thought they meant repack right there at the counter like they do in America. Non. Not in civilized France. You must leave the area and repack and then come back so that others do not have to wait. Bags gone, we still had many lines to navigate through. But first, one last outside trip for the L&P before the real trip begins. And guess what? We arrived at the airport to blue sky and now it was...wait for it....oui! Raining. Just at the airport. Just for us.

To get to the gate you must first pass through several check points. So far L&P are happily strolling along, but at the first pass we must put them in their crates said the airport police. Why that was necessary is still a mystery because we were still very far from the gate. Here again, they check passports and tickets. It is easy to pass through though even if it is a narrow funnel because it so very hectic and busy, anyone could have passed by those two passport guys.
Next there is a moving sidewalk that makes the one in Denver and Chicago seem like small potatoes. This one is 140 miles long and goes downhill and uphill for no apparent reason other than to amuse and annoy those of us with strollers who don't want to dump the baby or the L&P in this case, on the sidewalk. Literally, the downhill and uphill were like miniature versions of the gondola affair in Chamonix. Two moving sidewalks in a tunnel. I would bet this was another Mitterrand wonder, this airport design.

At the end of this ridiculous thing is a circular corridor that brings you to the toll both, or in this case, passport control for France. They simply gaze at your passport for the 10th time and send you on the way to security for the gate. This line snaked very far but didn't take that long. That is unless you are behind a Brittney Spears doppelganger and her boy toy. She, having all kinds of trouble navigating with her very high heels and extra large purse which was truly bigger than her whole self. He, who is so busy holding her up by the tush, that by the time they get to the front of the line they are useless. Mr. Momo must tell them that it is their turn. Oh, they say, as the two windows open, and they split apart (how telling) each using one of the free windows, when most couples use one window together..........have to love the tourists.

Next we pass by the duty free shops and the three tables that make up the entire area's food section and move on to the security line. Which is pretty darn short. It is right in front of the gate and clearly set up just for the United Flights. They don't make us take off our shoes, but we must undress the L&P sans collars, leashes and anything useful to keep them secure. So here we are with fourteen of those plastic buckets filled with computer, phone, dog stuff, Mr. Momo's belt, keys, change, our bags, and yet we get to wear our shoes. How nice for us. We get through but it is five minutes before we have collected and redressed the L&P for travel and Mr. Momo has gotten his belt back on, which is very necessary to hold up the pants since he managed to lose the most weight in France. I cannot even imagine what someone must go through taking a baby on the plane this way.

The gates for United I do hope are on the list for upgrades in the renovation plan for the airport. For two flights that hold 8,567 people, the gate was designed to hold 16. We were standing shoulder to shoulder. Seriously. We were so close to the trash can, we offered to throw stuff out for people who came by to avoid the splatter landing on us. Meantime, L&P are still free on leash and having a great time playing with anyone who will pay attention to them.

In addition there is a tiny tiny refreshment window, if you can call it that. The line was 8,532 people long because that was the only place to get water or coffee prior to boarding the plane. We all know you have to buy the water after security in order to carry it on the plane, right? Wrong. Mr. Momo came back with a bottle of water with no cap. Apparently they keep the cap for good luck? Seriously, they keep the cap because you cannot take the water on the plane - security. What? Great. And you know it will be quite some time before they get around to bringing you drinks in the cattle car section. Did I mention that one of the airport upgrades ought to be air conditioning? Just a thought.

The flight to Washington was not bad at all considering how long it took and the time difference. L&P had a great time meeting and greeting fellow passengers, some who had no idea that they were neighbors to two adorable BTs. L&P were very quiet and well mannered. We were able to leave the top hatch open so they could sit up if they wanted but mostly they slept. At one point L needed a little TLC so Momo pulled her out with her blankie and she slept on Momo's lap for a while. The flight attendants were very talented in assessing that they were well behaved little pups and we had them under control, so they left us alone. Much appreciated. Of course in such tiny quarters it is important to make sure your neighbors are fine with dogs first. And they were. All of them quite nice and kind to the L&P. Total time for the dogs sans bathroom was almost 12 hours. Good good dogs.

The 2nd leg of the trip was the next day on Jet Blue. Again, the seats are just too short for anyone over 5' 8" tall. That is how they get that fabulous leg room. Make that seat bench short! Not to mention that there is absolutely no reason that the seats could not be an inch higher up than they are. The under seat room is pitiful with or without dog carrier. That flight, which will never be mentioned again after this post, was too long after 10 minutes. It is a bit sad when you get indifference with flight attendants regarding the cuteness of the L&P, but it is just plain awful when you get a flight attendant who actually does not like dogs, which we did. Again, we had the top open, but they are connected inside to a short lead to the bag, which means they cannot jump out of the bag because they are physically attached. In addition, L&P are trained to not do that unless one of us tells them to. I understand that not all dogs that travel are trained, but it would not take but a minute to talk to us and look over the dogs to get a good feeling for that. Sheesh. Anyway, the wicked witch of the west made us zip up the top keeping their heads back in the bag per her interpretation of the FAA rules (which are vague on purpose so the flight crew has discretion). Another flight attendant came back to whisper to us that she just reviewed the regs and told us that at least the bag could be up on the seat during the flight, but we should leave it closed, well, because. L&P took it way better than Momo. Even Mr. Momo got a little annoyed when we were landing and they insisted that P could not be under the middle seat. So we move her to the aisle- under the seat and then he comes along again and says the crate isn't far enough under! Yikes. We are literally landing at this point. Thankfully L&P did not care. So, Jet Blue? Please work on your manners. It could have been a pretty good flight because the pilots did a great job. And again, our seat neighbors loved the L&P. Made the end of the trip endless. Needless to say, L&P won't be flying on Jet Blue anymore, nor will Momo or Mr. Momo.

L&P enjoyed getting out of the crates, but they enjoyed it more once we hit the driveway. They whipped inside that front door like road runner. And within the first five minutes they had every single toy out of the toy box and had sniffed every corner of the house. If they had tails, they would have been wagging. I think those girls were happy to be home.

But I can tell you that the next day they were looking for the croissants. Sadly none were to be had. First, we got some from Whole Foods that were frozen and made in France. After baking them, L&P were indifferent, it was clear that made-in-France was more like, France, Iowa. Next we got some fresh baked ones at Whole Foods. Once single croissant was big enough to feed sixteen truckers. And doughy. Next, we went to the little 'French" patisserie nearby and realized that those croissants after our time in France were also wrong. Huge and topped with strange items like almonds, cheese and other things. And the pastries were huge and skyscraper like. Sadly, Momo realized that the true French pastry would not be found here. We will try the Williams Sonoma frozen croissants just once. After all, we can hope, can't we?

So here we are back in America. While the Momo family love their home, they would be happy to be back in France as would L&P. They are forever looking for the sidewalk buffet and sadly, old leaves and twigs are just not the same.

However, while we are still in California, we have taken a vote and have decided to continue the adventures of Lulu and Phoebe, only now it will be the Adventures of Lulu and Phoebe in Sunny California. After all, can you think of better place to lampoon than California?

Au Revior for the moment. We are going on a little break for a week, but we will be back with our first California adventure in another week. Can anyone say road trip?

L&P rate the hospitality of United Airlines (international) a big 9. It could be a 10 if the jet could peddle a little faster. They rate Jet Blue zip. But they did enjoy their Sturdibags once again, so a big thumbs up for Sturdibags at Sturdiproducts.com.

And We Shall Shop say L&P: Momo Get that Credit Card Out

Once upon a time, Momo had a dream. When she learned the Momo family would be going to France, she had numerous fantasies about French couture for the L&P. She dreamed of finding new and exciting toys and stuffies for the L&P. She imagined all the new collars and leads in beautiful French fabrics and ribbons for L&P.

Before even leaving for France, Momo tried very hard to look for stores in Paris that would carry these lovely things. Momo had lots of trouble, not only with the language and the French yellow pages, but with even asking French people where she might find such things. No one knew. And the logic of the French yellow pages was, well, French. If you know anything about French logic, it is not American, nor European. It is just French. The French understand it just fine. Nothing wrong with it, but often the French yellow pages were harder to decode than the literal translation of anything French.

So the task became part of the adventure. Momo must find the couture and the jouets for doggies. It was apparent it would have to wait until the Momo family arrived in Paris. It should be easy then because, well, the French love the dogs, do they not?

At our itty bitty apartment hotel, we asked the desk staff. They scratched their heads. Stores for dogs? La chien? Ooo la la. What an idea. They must peruse the French yellow pages. Good, Momo thought. They are French. They will understand the logic. Or so I was hoping.

Jouet for chien. Sadly, the results were not good. Toys r Us. What? Didn't we leave America? And wait. One more. The Disney store on Champ Elysees of all places. Again, (Jon Stewart moment) WHAT???? Ah, yes, it was the Jouet that was confusing. Toys. The French online yellow pages ignored chien and went with toys. Well, I guess that was odd logic, but logic nonetheless. Ignore one word and search for the other. Apparently the words in the search were a guideline. So very French.

Next we tried chien. Oh oh. Washing dogs and cats. Toilet stuff for dogs and cats. Dogs and cats. Services (not to be confused with stuff) for dogs, cats. Mon Dieu. Nothing. Not one Pets r Us.

Luckily, Galleries Lafayette had a small section for the pets. But what they had would make Target blush. A few toys, some really dumb collars and a few balls. They had bowls, but bowls were not our problem. Oh, and one type of tee shirt with some stupid logo on it for 40E. Yes, 40E which is about $50. Even Momo would not pay $50 for a dog tee. Momo is a little bit touched when it comes to L&P, but not that crazy. Even L&P thought that was stupid. They would rather have the equivalent in croissants, thank you. Can you imagine at .80 per, how many croissants they could eat for 40E? Piggies.

Then we accidentally found Pinceloup on a stroll to Notre Dame. There we were able to spend only 250E on two sets of matching collar/leads, a puppia look alike harness, and a couple of toys. And the collars buckle like the old fashioned stuff so they aren't going to be able to be used for everyday (you want the snap buckle for safety). Ah yes, Momo was desperate. However, L&P had a great time in the store, as you can see from the photo, and enjoyed visiting with Maude, her dog and her husband. Although a little air conditioning would be good. Stores just are not air conditioned much in France and this one, not at all, and such a hot day, even the L&P were sweating.

That should have sufficed, but we had no new couture, and those collars were not exactly the ones. Momo quickly went to the internet and ordered from Zoe's Collection so that at least when L&P arrived home, they would have some lovely collars awaiting them. Just plugging Zoe's Collection. If you need some very nice collars, that's the place to go.

By now, L&P were looking quite frayed without new collars or tee shirts. We looked and looked. We even made a few special trips on the Metro to a couple of places that sounded promising on the website from again, the French yellow pages, but it was in French, and Momo still cannot translate all that well. Turns out one place was a chien beauty parlor and they had three collars and some bows. Hello, Fifi? The next place was a shoe closet and they had a few toys that one gets in places like Petco, at home, that sell for an American dollar. One. American dollar. Here, they cost 10E. Or so the nice man said as he emerged from his residence to the dog store closet with his lunch napkin still tucked into this shirt. Oops.

Sadly, Momo was about to give up. Good thing we had packed a few toys and clothes. France was chilly and P began learning all about de-stuffing stuffies. Things were getting tense as the toy supply suddenly dwindled. Momo called upon her peeps from Woofboard.com, fellow BT buddies, and the ideas for homemade toys flew off the pages. But it wasn't they same. And L&P knew it. Ok, Momo knew it. L&P merely cared about the daily croissant bag. Frankly, Momo thought they might have been a little obsessed.

Fortunately there was a store at the end of the number 14 Metro, Momo's favorite Metro train, at Bercy Village called Animalis. Momo again did a bad job translating and assumed this was a boring dog supply store. That was correct, slightly. Only the supply was real dogs, cats, birds, and the assorted rat like creatures. Dilemma. In America, it is very bad karma to frequent a facility that sells the actual chien. Those poor dogs are typically from puppy mills and we do not want to encourage or support any business that does that. But here we were, 6000 miles from home and we have had no luck with the acquisition of toys. And the supplies were running low.

The first time Momo went to Bercy and found the store she could not bring herself to buy anything there. The second time she went, it was with freshly dyed hair, sunglasses and a costume that she would never ordinarily wear, not black. She quickly made her way into the store and secured a load of stuffies and other toys and paid for her purchase in cash, wracked with guilt, but knowing that L&P would benefit. Turns out, bad karma is bad karma. Should have just followed the rules. The toys lasted less than one day. P had honed her seam ripping skills and mercilessly de-stuffed all of the new toys within hours. The only thing remaining was, uh, Daffy Duck. Yes, Daffy Duck. Daffy even made it back to America.

Momo could say that the quality of those stuffies was lacking. But since being home, P has amassed a large looming pile of destroyed stuffies and well, it could be she just was beginning her spree in France. The second photo actually shows her serious remorse. Of course the remorse could simply be a demonstration of her unhappiness learning that she could not destuff them fully because they were removed from the toy box forever and on the way to the garbage. P seems to mean no harm, but apparently de-stuffing is just in her nature. Poor L. She will have to learn to keep her stuffies behind locked glass.

Camonix is another story. In Chamonix you will find a store called Cham Dog. While Cham Dog has the beauty parlor room, it also has a sizable section for dog jackets and toys and some very interesting collars and leads. The Momo family made good use of that store and many of those jouets have come home with us to America where they are still whole. That would include, and picked out by L&P, one large rubber chicken as in roasted chicken. One chicken like figure with a belt on it, and several little squeaky toys that amuse them for hours. Not one stuffie. Good thing too. I am not sure it would have survived. We also were able to get L&P new winter jackets just in case it would snow in CA in the bay area. They are made for the snow country in Chamonix, but they will suffice for here. After all, a California winter can be harsh-like if you have a hairless belly. That was a very enjoyable store and the dogs in Chamonix seemed very happy. They must like that store too.

So Momo spent an entire year's couture and toy budget in two stores in France on L&P. With the unfortunate George-Bush-Dollar against the Euro, Momo spent way too much dinero. But what they heck. When you see that rubber chicken being tossed about by a happy happy L&P, it is worth it.

Can you just picture the x-ray people at the airport looking at our bags? Never mind the baggage handler when they tossed the bag. A symphony of various squeaks. That should have been amusing, or quite scary.

L&P rate the two dog stuff stores a big 10. They got plenty of treats from the store clerks. Funny, they didn't mind that they weren't croissants. Momo rates the shops a little bitty 5 because they were too expensive. And the others don't even get a mention - well, they get a mention, but a bah humbug one. So, if you take your Fifi to Paris, bring the toys with you as well as your own couture. Of course, there are always the croissants.

Can We Get Some Paris Shoes for Momo?

Paris is home to more than 2 million pairs of feet including those of various tourists. Maybe even a little more since it is summer. And then again, maybe a little less since most of the French leave Paris in August and typically take their footwear with them. If you factor out the feet of most tourists you have some very interesting footwear to observe. Just on Rue Joubert and Rue Caumartin you can find hundreds of feet to watch every single day as this photo indicates. And at Place Vendome, L&P are watching out for feet, and since it is raining they are wishing they had shoes to wear.

It is easy to spend time looking at feet. First, you really must look down to deftly miss those steaming piles of poop, and while looking up is worth your while too since I can now attest to the giant bird poops from above, generally there are fewer of those than the four legged kind. Also, Momo must observe the lay of the land so to speak when waltzing around Paris with L&P since the sidewalk buffet contains things that ought not be ingested by human or animal.

Ah, I digress once again. Back to feet.

If you are looking toward the array of feet that pass you by you will certainly notice that many if not most, are dressed in some very very nice attire. I myself would not rate heels, especially in the 2.5 inch or more range as very nice attire because just watching them move makes my feet hurt, but they certainly are tres stylish and they are usually worn on oh so small feet. Dainty toes. Most of the higher heel feet are very small, let's say American size 6 or under. That would just about cover Momo's big toe. Laugh all you want, but re-read the post on Too Large Feet and then send Momo a sympathy comment please.

And the design of the heels are unusual too. Not just simple stilettos, but a variety of airborne structures that look like architectural students may have designed them. All works of art. It is a pity they have to be walked in.

Momo's favorite pastime is watching the women of Paris tear their Achilles tendons running down or up the steps of the underground to catch a Metro in some of those architectural wonders. It must take years of practice and patient tutoring when these women were young girls and toddlers to train them to actually hike in these shoes.

The trend that is big in the United States - wearing running shoes with high heel work attire for commuting - has surely not caught on in Paris. No sane Paris fashionista would be caught anywhere without her beautiful stylish heels. Perhaps that answers some of the questions about why Parisians, particularly women as Momo has noticed, are usually not smiling much. They have intense looks of concentration which could actually be silent screams as they move about the city. One has to wonder what the Parisian expression during that daily hike would be if everyone was clad in sensible walking footwear, say, like a sneaker. I get the sense that they would rather go barefoot rather than give up the angst. At least most of them have lovely French manicures under those shoes.

And on the other hand Momo has seen her share of Audrey Hepburn flats strolling about the city. These too, are worn by tiny feet and they look ever so charming. It was a lucky break that Momo found a pair of flats that have a similar look and were in her size, which as we all know by now, is too large. While they are charmingly comfortable, they lack that same adorable itty bitty French foot look. The tiny little slipper flat must be just a tiny minute big as it strolls down the Boulevard. It ruins the look to have the shoe, say, appear on both curbs of an intersection at the same time.

The styles of these little flats vary tremendously, but they have one thing in common with each other and one thing in common with the heels. Black. All of them black. Ok. Perhaps a touch of brown, or some other muted color, but you will always find black on the shoe somewhere. It is a rule I do believe. Although Momo has noted that the window displays in the requisite les chaussures des femmes, two to a Rue, will have shoes in red, blue and black and sometimes white in the window. No self respecting French woman will buy those to wear in Paris. One store even had expensive flats with cat whiskers and ears on the front. Momo bet Mr. Momo that the shoe only came in a size 5 or less. Could you picture that shoe in a size that Momo would need? Someone would call an exterminator. The whiskers alone would need extra structural support to stay up, let alone the size of the ears. Good thing French woman's feet are tiny or the designer of that shoe would be out of a job.

So if you go to Paris, be sure to either come barefoot with a nice French manicure and buy yourself some heels or flats in black please. Or better yet, find an online shoe store from within France, order your French shoes and wear them to France. You will fit right in. And if you feel like shopping in Paris and paying that ridiculous exchange rate, Galleries Lafayette has an entire floor for women's shoes. Yes, indeed, an entire department store floor. Filled with women's shoes.

L&P don't really care about shoes in Paris, but they certainly care about getting stepped on. For the art of stepping carefully, L&P rate the shoes in Paris a nice 9 - since once someone came a bit too close. Momo rates the shoe show in Paris an entertaining 8. It could have been a 10 if there were actually shoes for Momo to buy.

L&P Remark on Pastry - French Pastry Makes Them Très Heureux

We may have left Paris, but we sure aren't done talking about it.

Let us have a moment of silence for all the Pastries that are born each day in France. Each of them, an individual wonder. Creations that defy logic. After all, who in the world has the patience to create those miniature works of art? Just the skill to patiently prepare a single pastry alone would send most people screaming for a cake mix. Which by the way, are hard to find in France. No Betty Crocker there. And a good thing. The French take their pastry seriously. As seriously as wine and cheese I suspect.

L&P have preferences. The first favorite for them is the croissant which is not necessarily a pastry, as in, say Opera cake. Next they enjoy the macaroons, again a biscuit, not a pastry really. But given free choice day, L&P would pick a framboise tart. And so would Momo. Those can be spectacular. A wonderful shortcrust pastry filled with pastry creme and the freshest, fattest red raspberries you ever did see.

Drooling yet? No? Well, then.

How about a delicate petite chocolate layer concoction with sponge cake, a bit of liquor, creme again, chocolate, and the delicate thin thin thin bittersweet chocolate top. Opera cake. Drooling now? Then how about an eclair, made with the freshest pastry choux, not too chewy, not too sweet, filled with chocolate pastry creme, and topped with bittersweet chocolate, the kind you can run your finger through and come away with enough chocolate to make your swoon.

Yep, you are too drooling. As you can see there are pastries to fill any one's cravings.

The best part of the pastry world in Paris is that because you have to walk everywhere, you can have a pastry every couple of hours and never gain an ounce. And fortunately there are plenty of pastry shops to accommodate that effort. But get there quickly. It is hard to find anything worth eating after 2PM. You have to go early, buy plenty and keep moving until you have sampled a variety of shops. After all, no two are the same. Well, ok, if they are Au Bon Pain, they are, but don't go there for pastry - although their croissants are pretty good. Find the little shops. And don't forget the famous ones too like Laduree and Angelinas and so many others.

L&P and Momo find that pastry stands alone. Well, not exactly alone, because one pastry is lonely. It should have the company of a few more to round out the table (and your waistline says L who is missing hers - has anyone seen it?). Momo hasn't had a waist in several years so that is not an issue.

In France, one eats the pastry and then one goes somewhere else for cafe express. While in America and other places perhaps, one has pastry and coffee, not so in France although tourists try to do that. You should see the painful looks they get when they try. Mon dieu. Melting looks. Seriously, do not ask for coffee with your pastry. If you must, take it to go and it will get wrapped up in a cute little funnel box, or paper and then you can take it anywhere - even to a table with a cup of coffee. But just don't ask anyone French to serve you coffee with your pastry. That would be wrong. Kind of like asking where Champ Elsie is........

L&P and Momo have sampled almost all of those pastries starring in our photos, and more than once. After all, several times a day for almost three months is a lot of pastry. Très très bon. A lot of happy happy pastry moments.

Adieu Cher Paris But Stay Tuned!

Momo, Mr. Momo and L&P are off to America.

However, the adventure continues because L&P have way more stuff to tell you about their life in Paris. We will be off the air for a few days because it takes a few minutes to tele-port (ah, don't we wish) back home.

Instead we will all be stuffed in the cigar tube called airplane. Wish us luck. The ride home is longer because we ate so much while we were here........

L&P send big kisses to everyone - In Portugal, France, Sweden, Germany, Israel, Canada, Australia, Switzerland, Italy, the UK, Yugoslavia, Spain, Ireland, and the US and everyone else Momo has missed.

And Estonia! Bonjour Estonia!

Thanks for tuning in and stay tuned for more!

French Food By Any Other Name is Délicieux

There just isn’t enough space on this blog to talk about food in Paris. First, you should come here only if you are willing to suspend any disbelief about what is good for you and what is not. Low fat has not exactly made front page news here.

The good news though, is that you should be able to drink enough red wine and chocolate to counter any high fat consumables. Heck, French women don’t get fat, right? Unfortunately some food enterprises in France are becoming global and guess who is marching right in front? Ah, oui – you are such smart kids! McDo’s. Pizza Hut is right behind. But no Kentucky Fried Chicken that we have come across thank goodness. Ok, one, but we have not seen it, or smelled it, mon dieu! Even Starbucks is making inroads, but not enough to worry about. That said, the brasseries are the first to fall victim to the cost effectiveness of monopoly and the resulting sameness. Sure, go to the brasserie for great café in a real cup and the chance to sit among the 12 out of 10 smokers to watch what we call the French sport of people gazing. Where do you think Momo learned about all the fascinating shoes in Paris – ok, aside from watching for poop and nothing better to do on the Metro?

Again, I digress, such a bad habit.

The brasseries are becoming a corporate or franchise world, and that is fairly new. So hurry up and get here to experience brasseries before they are all owned by Café Richards. That is why you will find all the lunch material, the “hotdogs”, the croque monsieur, and the baguettes jambon all looking like clones. It took Momo a while to figure that one out. Could be the clues were the packets of sugar that all said Café Richards from one brasserie to the other. And unfortunately, Momo is not making it up – read the current issue of Timeout: Paris.

However, there is such excellent food to be found in France. First let us start with cheese. There are more cheeses here than Momo and Mr. Momo have seen in, well, forever. And we have seen lots of cheese. Cheeses here are bright – fresh, not so sanitized, and deliciously crafted. Cheese is its own food group. Never pass up the cheese course in your 22 course dinner. It is going to be worth it and is always better than the course with meat. Meat is not a strong point in French cuisine, we think. There are soft cheeses and not soft cheeses which should not be confused with hard cheeses. Remember the camembert? Ah, yes, it still smells like old gym socks, but it tastes unlike any you might have had in the US. Momo has no idea what the cheese names are but they are all worth a taste. L&P have sampled a huge variety of cheese and they also agree. Eat cheese.

Next, you can be sure that jambon is not only in every single dish that anyone cooks in France, but it is in every single think called sausage or smoked meats. And the variety is stunning actually for one little pig. Everywhere you go, the jambon is king. The myriad of cured meats is unbelievable. Bacon is not just bacon, but a meal. For example, in Laduree, that wonderful pastry tea room, I watched a person (yes, tourist) order a chicken (poulet) sandwich and was asked if he wanted bacon on it. Yes, yes, he exclaimed. So it comes to the table, and yes, there is bacon, the Canadian looking type bacon, and it is on the outside of the sandwich attached with a toothpick. Momo and Mr. Momo giggled, but you could clearly see that the poor guy was perplexed. To his credit, he ran with the program and ate his poulet/bacon sandwich the way it arrived. Sandwich first, bacon second. Ah, the French have a great sense of humor – in their own way, let us say.

Next let us talk about the produce. Hello, California? Are you listening? This stuff may not be organic, but it seems to have not seen any gene splicing. The raspberries are plump, raspberry colored and fantastic whether you buy them in the Monoprix or the Lafayette Gourmet. Same with most of the other produce. And the shelf life is very short. By the end of the day, little flies are eating the fruit and other produce in the stores. Shop early!

And a big shout-out hello to Fromage Blanc, the star of this blog's photo. That white stuff is the tastiest thing in the universe with some fresh produce. And no, no one can locate it in America. Please do tell if you can, because it will be sadly missed when we return. L&P will dance on the head of pin for a taste of Fromage Blanc. It is not quite cottage cheese, and not crème fraiche. It just is, well, Fromage Blanc.

Let us not leave out chocolate. I am sure artisans everywhere who make excellent chocolate will not mind when we say nothing compares to some of the chocolate you can find in France (and I am assuming in other parts of Europe). Everyone eats chocolate like it is another food group. A very smart thing. Momo agrees. L&P are not allowed chocolate, but they don’t seem to mind smelling it when we partake, which is, well, often.

It is important to talk about the art of the French meal because it is unique. It took Momo and Mr. Momo a little while to work up to this regimen. Dinner is at 8PM or later. If you eat before that hour you must be a child or not from France. And dinner can last for hours. Hours and hours. Our longest meal was four hours. That is halfway across to America on an airplane. That is one long meal. But the time passes quickly because the food is stunningly wonderful. There are some very fine restaurants in Paris. Not all of them are terribly expensive, but many are. But they are worth every little Euro.

Don’t forget to eat while you are here. It is about as important as visiting Tour Eiffel and L’Opera. And way more important than any old musee. But if the musee has a restaurant, then by all means, go. To the restaurant!

L&P are happy to tell you that food in Paris is a full time business for them. They rate eating here a big 10++++. So do Momo and Mr. Momo.

L&P Present - A Tale of Duex Metros

Since the Metro is fairly clean, almost litter free, L&P think the Metro trains are merely adequate transportation to the next sidewalk buffet. However, no one said anything about the Metro stations and the underground. In the underground there is plenty of trash. Not as much as on the street, and less than the amount you would find in a parking garage. But there is some trash. L&P however, have learned that even trash in the Metro underground is not so savory and they tend to walk right on by. There is a lesson to be learned here my friends - if L&P are willing to skip it, well, ok, if P is willing to skip it, it ain't good. Hurry on by.

This is L&P with Dad on the Metro on the way to somewhere in Paris. They have learned what the word "train" means and they make such delightful faces when we say it. Almost as though they would rather exert the effort to snort a hairball than get on that noisy thing again. But they do it willingly because, well, because they are carried onto the trains. Willingly is a loose term here.

Don't order that silly $10 metro map from anywhere before you go. They give them away for free here and are much easier to read - the print is bigger. Second, don't try to memorize it before you get here. It is impossible and seriously, the maps make sense only after you try using it and get lost once or twice (says Momo, not Mr. Momo - who never apparently gets lost). And you will need several because they wear out. Seriously, they disintegrate from staring at them.

Then there is the RER, pronounced AIR (cough cough) AIR. Never RER. Don't do it. No one will know what you are talking about. The AIR/AIR is just another get around town train, but is not to be confused with the Metro, but you can use the same ticket for both. And the bus too. But a bus and the trains (RER and Metro) don't look anything alike. Well. Except for the #14 Metro which looks like a big springy bus on rails. High speed rails too. I love the 14. It is a high speed (ok, not like the TGV high speed, but speedy nonetheless) and automagic. If you get on in the absolute front of the very first car there is a giant picture window to watch the tunnels as you speed along. I feel like I am 8 years old again. I always go to the front. And I push the kids out of the way if they hog the window. The longest distance of nonstop travel is between Gare Lyon and whichever is next, although the map never indicates this. It feels like five minutes and 20 miles of zoom, ups, downs, curves. Ok, ok. Digressing again.

Our itty bitty apartment is near Gare Saint Lazar station (pronounced Salazer - try looking that one up!), one of those giant undergrounds that connect like a hub to many Metro and some AIR/AIR lines. You can even get a bus to CDG airport there among many other city buses. It is a big hub. It is two blocks away but we can go underground almost out our door and never come up again until we are on the other side of Paris. Ta Da. Magic. And it takes less than 30 minutes. Metros are the way to go around here. But if you want to Metro your way through Paris, here are some things that you will need to know.

1. Plan on getting lost and not worrying. There are plenty of maps everywhere. If I can find my way back, honestly, anyone, including L&P could. I am a very very bad map person. And in the worst case? They say Paris is a walking city for a reason. Just, at all times, make sure your footwear is comfy. You may have to walk back, and you can. It will just take some time. Stop at the cafe. Eat something, have some express. And walk some more. You will get back. I promise. And heck, if you can't, call me. I will try to read the map for you. Of course, you could end up in Belgium, but they have good chocolate.

2. Do not buy the stupid "Paris tourist" Metro tickets. They cost more than regular tickets because they give you a silly plastic sleeve for the ticket which is no good anyway - the ticket needs to be naked to go through the turnstiles. I think they also give you discount coupons for shopping in places that already give tourists discounts. Redundancy is not uncommon here. But tickets in groups or just a weekly or monthly ticket for two zones. If you go further than that you are in Versailles anyway. A carte orange is a good ticket to get.

3. Practice the terms you will need to use to get the tickets mentioned above over and over until you have memorized them in French. Or face the wrath of the RAPT ticket/information employee. We have experienced the wrath. It is not pretty. When you say bonjour and parlez vous anglais?, it is likely that the person in the window with say oui, shrug, motion a little bit with their fingers or say non. Be prepared. If they say oui, test it out. Like ask how their family is or compliment them on their choice of toothpaste. If they look puzzled or answer correctly, you have, my friend, hit the jackpot. I would suggest you buy all of your tickets for your entire trip right then. If you get a stupid answer back, you know they do not speak English. And here begins the fun. Use French - ask for the number of Jours you want, say for example, duex jours, duex zones, duex people. And then be prepared to pretend you are on a game show and use all your fingers to count and point until you get what you need. The ticket people are adept at not being very helpful and as Mr. Momo has noted, on purpose they like to play with you like the cat plays with little bitty mice. Just be prepared as they say. Mr. Momo often comes back with two tickets for one zone for one day going to Sweden when he had asked for 2 zones, 2 days and 2 tickets.

4. And always be grateful for the times when you find someone helpful in the Metro stations. I once had the help of a very nice information person who took me to the ticket counter way below where we were, two giant escalators down. Where she had described to go was no where close to where we ended up. If I had followed her directions, between her poor English and my poor French, I would still be walking to NYC, underground from Paris.

5. There are fewer pick pockets than the printed material says there are. There is a greater police presence underground and therefore less crime. But you will still run into the drunks later on at night who get tossed out of the streets and into the Metro stations. They are pretty harmless, they just might smell a little bit and lurch a bit. But still, do be cautious. Don't fling your money around, and keep your purse in front of you and if you carry a pack, be aware that the more savvy nimble fingers can get those zippers open with nary a nudge. So don't put anything in your pack that you can't stand to lose.

6. Pay close attention to the signs. They will confound you for certain. For example, the number 14 goes only from St. Lazar to Bibliotheque and back again. However, the sign at St. Lazar offers you Olympiades and Bibliotheque for the number 14 making you think perhaps there are two trains. Not so. One train, and both stops are in the same direction, one after the other. Silly Metro map makers. They just wanted to keep you guessing.

7. And watch the arrows too. They often point in a direction and then double back or twist. Keep checking to make sure you are heading to the right train number or you will have a long walk back. And just for extra credit fun, sometimes the arrow tells you where to go and then disappears and you have to choose - left or right. That can be fun. You'd think it would be 50-50, but not here. More like 80-20, as in 80% of the time you will pick the wrong way. Remember, comfy comfy shoes!

8. Do not leave your ticket tucked in your purse, wallet or any other stupid place. You need it once the surge you are walking with pushes you to the turnstile. The French move though that thing like ballerinas. If you are from NYC, you shouldn't have any trouble, but if you are from, say, a tiny town with no subway, get used to keeping your ticket handy. Here you must be cautious and watch for the naughty thieves. Their best trick is to grab your bag as you get through the turnstile only to go in the opposite direction and leave you stranded.

9. Don't kill yourself getting to a train if you hear it or see it. Almost no one here ever runs to catch a train. They come very few minutes. Aside from the fact that over 50% of the women riding the metro wear stiletto heels- the French have lots of dignity. No one rushes anywhere. There is even a little digital readout above the platform that counts down the three minutes to the next train.

10. Talk quietly on the train. The French are pretty quiet people and often you can tell who are the tourists (aside from the white sneakers) by how loud they are. Conversations are actually not overheard. And on some cars, conversation is not possible because the train is too loud.

11. Don't bother with a stroller. There are stairs and more stairs everywhere and very few escalators. And many escalators act like stairs because they aren't running.

12. There are often musicians in the underground and some are very good. I think it is the acoustics. Violins can sound hauntingly wonderful or make you want to throw yourself on the 3rd rail.

13. Wear layers. It can get mighty toasty at times.

14. The train door don't open by themselves for the most part. You have to pop a lever or push a button. You will look very cool and un-touristy if you know that. If you just stand there waiting for the door to open, someone will invariably knock you over trying to get out.

15. Some of the operators running the trains are 12 years old. They like to go really really fast and lurch the train about on it's 300 year old rails. Think Harry Potter and that silly midnight bus ride.

Welcome to the underground where there is a whole other Paris.

L&P love the Metro so they rate the underground a big 8. The shortcoming is more about the lack of good pickings like the sidewalk buffet up above. For Momo and Mr. Momo, the Metro rates a good 7. It's those confusing sorties and idiotic methods of getting Metro tickets that keep the rating from being higher. But you cannot argue with the fact that you can be on the other side of Paris from where you are in less than 30 mostly hassle free minutes using the Metro. That is, if you can find your way back up to the top.

Vive Le Bread!

If there was a way to stuff my suitcase with bread, I would leave all the smelly clothes here and just bring the bread. Sad to say, it would never make it even with all the careful handling by the airlines..... So, although there is fine bread at home, Momo is terribly sad to leave the bread behind. So are the L&P since they have learned to love the bread.

There are some things to learn about bread here that was perhaps just new to us. First, the French work to make the inside of their bread the tasty tasty part. The crust is important, but in a way that is supposed to protect that fantastic yummy inside.

When we first arrived we found bread that came in a variety of colors. Turns out that the pale bread is not stuff you take home and finish - it holds the stuff for baked sandwiches. That is why it looks so darn pale. Momo can tell you without a doubt that you don't want that bread. It is pretty much tasteless even with fillings and being baked. You can also buy bread with a variety of crust colors on purpose. Everyone has a preference. However, you can always count on the inside to always be tasty no matter what color you enjoy. All except that pale thing.

You do however, in Momo's opinion, want the nicely golden slightly crispy crust like the ones in the picture. Now that is a baguette. You can see people carrying those down the street all day long. Single ones, groups of baguettes and none stuffed in paper. One just buys the baguette and off you go. Momo has to hand it to them - with all the baguettes marching to and fro across the city each day and on the Metro, she has never seen one person take a bite. Now that takes willpower.

Then there are the artisan bread folks like at Lafayette Gourmet (like Eric Kayser - Momo thought that name was funny - Kayser/Kaiser is a bread, isn't it?) who sell all kinds of bread that pretty much look the same, but are supposed to be slightly different from one another. Momo thinks bread has gotten too complicated. A simple French baguette is what you need. Just rip the bread and enjoy. No butter, no oil needed.

In Chamonix, so close to Italy, the influences of Italy are apparent. The bread is crustier, crunchier and more thick with crust on the outside - still light on the inside, but with more body. That bread is very very tasty. Even Mr. Momo ate bread. L&P ate bread. None of us could help it. And in Chamonix, the bread came with butter unlike any other butter we have ever encountered. Sure it was European butter which is far more rich than American butter, but this was even better. They served enough with each bread basket to bake two cakes, but it just skated right onto the bread and soon was reduced to a tiny lump. Thank goodness for lots of good red wine, because that butter is so not low fat.

Even if you have access to the best bread makers this is one place to not miss out on the bread.

Momo is still very sad that the bread has to stay here. L&P are particularly sad that the croissants must stay here. Mr. Momo undoubtedly is relieved that the bread is staying here. Bread gets a 10 squared from all of us. Long live French bread!

L&P Discuss Pastries with Momo and Mr. Momo Beginning with Macaroons

We have tried all kinds of pastries throughout Paris and after a while it seems like it would get monotonous. But it doesn't. L&P have helped share our adventures which explains their lack of waistline these days. Not ours, of course. We had no waists when we arrived.

First you have to understand that pastries are exactly like fashion is in Paris. They are edgy, yummy and usually made with excellent ingredients. You won't find anyone skimping on the buerre here. You may find less sugar in them, but that is on purpose. The big surprise is that pastries made with less sugar taste really great. You can taste everything else and your teeth don't hurt. I can't imagine dentists in this part of the world are getting rich.

First there is an abundance of pastry shops. Even the super market, or super marche will have a pastry section. In every shop there are colorful macaroons filling the cases with flavors like framboise, pistachio, cafe, chocolate, lemon, and other assortments. Some are so delicate that you can hardly feel them when you take a bite. They literally melt in your mouth. And if you are eating a pistachio macaroon, you will taste real pistachio. Same with raspberries. And the chocolate can make you swoon. No waxy taste to these chocolate treats.

Sometimes they offer little macaroons and then they also offer giant ones. Mr. Momo and Momo call those lunch-time macaroons because a whole one is an entire meal for a family of four. Some pastry shops make fancy macaroons filling them with custard and real live berries. You have to eat those right away, but that is hardly a chore.

People give one another boxes of macaroons as gifts. Many pastry shops have special boxes just for macaroons. Kind of like a box of chocolates, but with a whole lot less fat. Macaroons are flavored egg whites baked and then two cookies are put together with a filling and there you have a Parisian macaroon.

L&P love the macaroons and are especially partial to the raspberry ones, but in a pinch they will enjoy any other berry one. L&P rate Parisian macaroons a big 10. Momo and Mr. Momo love the macaroons too and will be sorry to leave them behind. That is why Momo is suffering through a French version of a baking book on making very fine macaroons so that we can pretend to duplicate them at home. Macaroons get a big 10+ from Momo and Mr. Momo.

Guess What Kids? Soldes! Yay Soldes!

Soldes are state sponsored sales. We at home in the US called them names like Nordstrom's Half Yearly Sale. But here, they are a major event and everyone goes all out and it is a big big deal. It is intended to help the stores clear out year end merchandise and make way for new collections or that is the rhetoric at least. Did I mention it is state sponsored? Ah, a democratic country with a twist. At least people care enough to vote.

A few days prior to the soldes, giant yellow posters start adorning all the entrances of the department stores. New to me, it took a few tries before I translated the posters. Hum, sales. Ok. No big deal, a sale. Woohoo. Whoa. Not these state sponsored thingys! Before I knew it everything in sight that was a storefront was wrapped in signs, all kinds of signs screaming SOLDES! YAY SOLDES! The soldes are coming.

Still, I really didn't get it. I wandered around the day before the big soldes began because I was looking for something. Might as well have been more invisible than before and if I could find any merchandise, it was under heaps of plastic or other covers taped down securely as though it held state secrets - awaiting the soldes day. Apparently no one works past closing time because they had to prepare for the sale during business hours the day before the sale so if you were unlucky to have that day to shop in Paris, oh too bad for you. Mostly what you got were miles and miles of plastic garbage bags taped to tables with mystery stuff under it. And surprisingly, I thought it would just be crap they trucked in, like the junk stores we have at home - true leftovers from seasons long past - but when the stuff was unveiled, it was pretty much regular stock. Zowie. The good stuff. And if you took the soldes price it actually made up for the crappy exchange rate.

Soldes goes on from the end of June through the beginning of August and stores expand their hours by a whole half-hour each day. Even the Monoprix, which is a grocery/other discount (not really) type store, chimes in with expanded hours, oops, half-hour.

The sale is a good deal if you have patience. The first day has good pickings obviously, but here, they continue to march out merchandise so that on any day you might find good things. The store clerks though are bipolar as a collective. They will either be in very happy moods and look forward to seeing you and your purchases, or they will give you the "frown". The dour dour frown that makes you want to run back to your seat and sit with your hands folded so Sister Katrina doesn't knock your knuckles with a ruler. I know I have put merchandise down and walked away when that happens. It is honest to Pete scary.

I think tourists in Europe who are familiar with soldes days come from far and wide to participate. It is a virtual united nations in the stores these days. I guess buying clothes in Paris is a coveted thing. I stick to socks because that is what I can afford, and they take their socks very seriously here - socks are fashion items. So is men's underwear which is interesting because shoppers trip over one another to get to those undies. Undies are fashion statements in Paris even for men. The stores don't allow photographs to be taken in the buildings otherwise I would post some here - but just think of Picasso, a little Miro and a twist of Andy Warhol, and you have the idea. On undies. One cannot be in a bad mood perusing the men's socks and undies department. It is just too colorful.

Seriously, soldes is an interesting part of the culture here. If you want to make sure you are here when it happens plan your Paris vacation for the end of June. You and 3 million other tourists won't regret it.

L&P I am afraid care nothing for the soldes and they are too uninterested to participate in a rating. Momo too. She just enjoys knowing that the soldes prices are a level playing field to the almighty George-Bush-dollar-buys-not-much-compared-to-the-big-Euro. You can almost break even. Almost. But probably not when you spend a few hundred on socks. Yes, Virginia, I said socks. But just think of them as art for feet. And a piece of Paris culture.

On the Road with L&P

L&P would like you to know that dogs are quite welcome at any rest stop along the French highways to stop in for a cafe express, or a sip of water, or a croissant. The croissant is what L&P order most of the time and they do enjoy them a little too much if you ask Momo.

There are many boring hours spent traveling on these roads, like the A6 and A40 on the way to Chamonix, that is until you come to, voila - a tunnel. No one builds bridges much around here. They like tunnels, lots of tunnels under the mountains. Tunnels seem to liven up the drive.

Again, I digress. We were talking about rest stops. Anyone who has driven through New York State, for instance, knows the boredom of the Thruway. Think Thruway with a twist. A novel twist if you ask Momo when she is in a good mood. In a bad mood, like, oh, say she has to pee, and all that is available is a pit stop with toilets that are - wait for it - holes in the ground - will make her pretty annoyed. It is 2007. Do you think they could afford the whole freaking toilet with the tolls the charge? On the A40 things were a little bit more rustic than the A6. On the A6 you could find real toilets, and very clean bathrooms. And you could find decent coffee. Not so much on the A40. Mostly very bad coffee, very bad drivers, and a confusing lack of toilet facilities for human beings. Especially in a country where a bidet is a given, how could you substitute a hole in the ground with a pretty porcelain rim and call that a toilet?

On the A6 L&P lounged in the nice restaurant with Momo and Mr. Momo while having express and croissants and salad (with jambon of course). L&P had their own chair and were masters at getting a good deal of lunch out of Momo. In fact, many visitors came up to L&P and wanted to know what kind of dogs they were. BTs are rare around here and many tried to tell us our Bulldogs Francais were too thin....

There was plenty of grass for L&P, and even gardens to make it more enjoyable to stop and have cafe. Almost no one took a cup to go. The French are quite civilized about sitting down and drinking coffee. But Momo did see lots of Coke (no Pepsi here) leaving the building. Momo also said that you won't find Pelegrino or Perrier for sale in the cooler on the New York State Thruway for sure. Nor the bottles of wine that were for sale. Or the Camembert cheese which Momo hoped that no one bought because it really smells.

So if you travel on highways in France, give the A6 a try. Skip the A40. Take a train. You will probably have a better bathroom on the train.

Now, a word about French drivers. Please please please, try to put your foot on the accelerator once in a while. It happens that the speed limit, which is mighty stingy to begin with, seems to be a guideline. And thus, why the "right" rule is necessary. Almost no one speeds. And almost no one was on a cell phone. A contrast to everyone in Paris who walks around with a cell phone glued to their head, everywhere, above ground and in the Metro underground which amazingly has a signal always.

Perhaps they are just used to driving that slow in anticipation of the "traffic" cameras that snap pictures of speeders. How do I know this? Why because there is a nice sign warning you each and every time how far up exactly the camera is that will snap your picture if you are going over the speed limit. Only once have we seen the camera go off, silly driver. There were plenty of signs warning where it was.

And one more word about drivers. Specifically parking. I publicly apologize to the Frenchman I insulted at one of the A40 rest stops who double parked his silly car which was towing a boxy little trailer -half next to our car, mostly keeping us blocked in. What was I thinking when I asked him to move his car? Silly Momo. He was taking a break and not to be bothered. What the heck. Half double parked was ok by him (he managed to park the trailer and left the car in the roadway blocking us).

And I ask this question out of curiosity. Why is it that almost a third of those families heading out on what looks like holiday, tow a trailer behind them? Not the kind you sleep in, but the kind that holds stuff. Some are homemade, others are not. But so many of them were towing trailers you just have to wonder if there needs to be a book published in France that teaches people how to pack for vacation? It looked like they were taking the entire household with them. Seriously. What a curious thing. Can anyone explain that one?

L&P rate the A40 rest stops a big 2 along with Momo who rates that route a big fat zip. However, everyone rates the A6 a big old 6 because the express was great, the croissants were fresh and the toilets were, well, toilets.

L&P Help Momo with Manners for Paris Visitors - Or How to Not Behave like an Idiot

There are certain things that visitors need to keep in mind when they visit France v. let's say Utica or NYC. And let's talk about Paris in particular. L&P and Momo, and ok, Mr. Momo too have observed some important little manners that will help you while you visit Paris. Help you in ways that avoid making an ass of yourself.

First, the escalator rule. Just like the driving rule. Right, right and right. Stay to the right unless you are passing. In traffic, or on the escalator, or say, the stairs. It is a good rule to follow because there are always those who are speedier than you and want to pass. If you are taking up the whole escalator, or more than the right lane in traffic, you will get squeezed, stepped on and watch out for the umbrella in the tush. That is, after you've ignored the excuser moi and pardons. Just remember, the ones who are in the biggest hurry are usually the little elderly ladies with sharp umbrella sticks. I beg you, stay to the right.

On the road, seriously, stay to the right unless you are passing. And good luck finding a lane, because most of the time, there are no lane markings. Drivers make them up. So stay to the right. And guess what? In most traffic circles, of which there is at least one on every third Rue, or equal to or more than the number of McDo's in Paris, the incoming traffic (from the right of course) has the right-of-way. So, say you are moving around the circle at Place Concorde, or at L'Arc, both of which are huge with spider webbed roads emerging from them, ALL the traffic entering the circle has the right-of-way into the circle, so for peets sake, if you are in the darn circle already, do not, and I repeat, do not cut them off. They will run you over as sure as you can pee in your pants. Seriously. Traffic customs are embedded like the right to fume here. Consider yourself warned! Oh, by the way, traffic signals, on the other hand, are merely voluntary. Or so it seems.

As in escalators, mind the stairwells too -as in anywhere, but particularly the Metro. Right right right. Unless you are passing. You will get a foot in your heel at some point if you do not obey this unwritten rule.

Tipping, while not always done here because a 15% gratuity is always included in your check - is always good to do if you have had, say, service. Not necessarily good service, but service. The range for tipping is typically a couple of extra Euros to more than a couple of Euros. Lots of tourists are told tipping isn't necessary because the gratuity is already included, however, watch what happens if you go back for another round and you did in fact leave a tip. They will undoubtedly remember you, and you will have decent service. If you did not tip, oh well. Better to go somewhere else.

Do not even think of entering a store, or the lobby of your hotel, the newsstand, pretty much anywhere without issuing a heartfelt Bonjour/Bon soir Madame/Monsieur. It is just what people do here. And don't forget when you leave to say Merci-au revoir, even if all you did was walk in and walk out.

L&P, like many tourists in Paris walk a great deal. Typically on the sidewalk which they share with tons of other people, many of them Parisians. They beg of you, do not, please, grin and smile at everyone. Parisians will think that something is wrong with you. The custom and polite thing to do is to keep your face neutral, nod if you must, but do not grin for peets sake. Really. All you will get in return is the most dour frown in the universe. That kind of frown even scares L&P.

Don't ask for a cup of coffee. Argh. That will get you some awful dark colored drek to drink. And never never ask for coffee with your food. Cafe is a course all by its lonesome. Ask for an express, a cafe creme, or a double express, or read the menu.

While we are talking about food, here is a little tidbit about bread. It will be served to you, but it often comes without butter. Try to enjoy it without butter if you can. Most French eat their bread plain. And many places serve the bread in a basket or on a plate, but you will probably not have a bread plate. Just rip your bread into pieces and put it on the table next to your plate if you want, crumbs and all. In many restaurants that aren't too fancy, you will see people sopping up the au jus or whatever the sauce is with their bread.

While we are talking about eating, you will notice that whenever you are out to eat that everyone who is French, ok, mostly everyone, will finish every last bite of every course. Food is not to be wasted and you don't have to act like you eat like a bird. Even little tiny women who could get lifted in a good breeze eat like truck drivers here. L&P hate this rule the most because there is usually little left over for them. That is why Momo always orders them their very own croissant. Lucky duckies.

A word about personal space. Don't count on it. Get used to people in your face. They will bump you walking by, bop you with that pointy umbrella, knock you sideways with their suitcase sized purse or briefcase. Momo has the bruises to show for it. Particularly protecting the space for L&P, both Mr. Momo and Momo have some battle scars. And boy, those 3 inch heels can do some damage when they meet the top of your foot - like Momo's too-large feet!

And be prepared for lines everywhere and everyone taking their own sweet time once it is their turn. At the grocery for example. No one would think to get their money ready to pay before the cashier has finished ringing up all the items. Then it is time to hunt for your wallet, rearrange your purse, and dig for change in the black hole of the purse bottom. Oh, and here the customer bags their own stuff. Don't even think that the cashier will do it. They may hand you some bags if you have gotten in the line that gives bags (be careful - if you are not in the line that offers bags, you will not get one under any circumstance). So then after paying, counting their change, putting it away in each little compartment, putting down their purse, then and only then do they begin to bag their stuff. It isn't necessary to bag while the cashier is ringing. Only crazy Americans like us do that. So not only will there be no space between you and the next person in line, but it will take longer to check-out than to shop for the food no matter when you go. This is true of any line like place anywhere, like say La Poste - remember that blog? It just is the way it is. Bring an ipod, bring a book. Heck, bring a chair.

There you have it. Part A - manners to remember while in Paris. L&P have no rating for manners because, well, they have just one. Sit. Ok two. They can wave hello and good bye. Momo rates manners as a big old chore. No significant digit is available for that one.

And Then There was Chamonix

Can anyone hear the Sound of Music soundtrack playing right now? Yeah, yeah, silly, but Chamonix is that charming. Our hotel was charming, the restaurants were charming, the town was charming. And everyone, including the tourists, were very very charming and nice. Momo didn't meet another crabby person, with the exception of herself. And that helped make it a very nice escape.

Chamonix did remind the Momo family of Vermont, but on serious steroids. Home of the first winter olympics, Chamonix still retains a lot of that kind of winter sports charm. People are still skiing because, well, it's a glacier and still has snow on it. Mont Blanc is very beautiful, large, and white. It almost air conditions the town, but not quite.

The best part of Chamonix for L&P was a dog stuff store where they reaped the benefits of being such good girls. They got lots of toys- good ones that won't break in five minutes, new winter jackets (where else?) and some very cool leashes for very big dogs. Not many small dogs there. About half of them were off leash and strutting around town with their humans. Dogs are really well liked there. L&P ate breakfast with Momo and Mr. Momo in the Hameau Albert restaurant - the fancy one. Even during dinner one can bring their well mannered four legged buddy with them.

Chamonix should not be missed if you can get there. Momo suggests a TGV train to Geneve (or as we call it, Geneva) and the smaller train to Chamonix. Even from Paris, the TGV train is a mere 3 hours and change. In a car it is about 5.5 long hours. Momo also recommends Le Hameau Albert 1er Hotel. You can walk everywhere once you are there.

This is a photo in the middle of town. A scenic view from anywhere. And here are L&P sharing breakfast in the restaurant.

The Momo and Mr. Momo as well as L&P rate Chamonix a big 10. They would live there if they could.

Momo Reports to you About Gondolas

Normal people should not be giddy about getting in a metal box that is suspended by a wheel or two on a wire or two and travels up from about 4000ft to over 12,000ft in just a few minutes. No. They should not. But they are. All except the very very sane. And that would be Momo.

The tour group of elderly Asians ran into the gondola (almost 50 of them) like school children being called in for ice cream with jimmies. The gondola stood no chance of remaining dignified and still. It rocked like a cradle someone was kicking after no sleep with a colic laden baby. Momo was having many thoughts and none of them had to do with why she was compelled to go with Mr. Momo in a box of steel that high up.

It probably comes as a complete surprise to you that Momo is a big old chicken. Really. A big surprise. Ok, perhaps not a surprise. But seriously, here are a couple of pictures of this gondola thing. It takes you up over the tree tops while there is still life on the ground, to a mid point where you must exit and get on a new gondola and it changes direction and shoots you straight up over the glacier to the top of this rock.

And on the top of this rock is a lookout, a restaurant, and a gift shop and a cafeteria, a couple of camping potties and strangely, an elevator in the rock that takes one up what it terms as three floors (do you think Macy's might be on the 2nd floor?) to a platform lookout where Mr. Momo stitched the first picture together. He says it is breathtaking and frankly I believe him because there is absolutely no air at that height. Momo was praying for some oxygen to be pumped into the cafeteria, but alas, none.

It is an experience not to be missed if you are game and happen to be traveling through Chamonix one day. Just be sure to make a reservation, get there early anyway and bring your own portable oxygen.

And just for fun, there are those who like to walk on glaciers and apparently fall off mountains. They are in one of these photos. Just get out the magnifying glasses and you will see those silly silly people pretending they are very cool. By the way, while everyone in the valley was wearing tee shirts, a down jacket, mittens and wind gear are important up there.

Mr. Momo rates the gondola and glacier a big fat 10 again. Momo still is trying to breath so cut her some slack. At least she went. And L&P still could care less.

L&P like Chamonix Tres Bien

L&P did enjoy their very very long car ride. Next time Momo says we must take the train. We did get to Switzerland, briefly, but not to Italy at least not that we knew of. Who can tell when the road signs welcome you everywhere in lots of languages, and none of them English . We were lucky we made it Chamonix. Directions are merely guidelines here. The drive was similar to central NY state, central valley in CA, and then suddenly, Vermont on steroids.

Our hotel was a a fine place. It is a family owned, called Le Hameau Albert 1er. L&P enjoyed the restaurant and the hotel grounds which were very pretty and green. Momo and Mr. Momo enjoyed the change of pace too. There was even room enough for everyone in the bed, though L&P were hogs as usual. The view from our windows was stunning too. All over Chamonix the view was stunning. This is a compilation panoramic stitched picture from Aiguille du Midi that Mr. Momo took.

The very next morning Momo and Mr. Momo were scheduled to ride the gondola up about 8000ft to Aiguille du Midi but Momo wasn't sure she was going to be able to do it. It is a big gondola as gondolas go, holding almost an entire tour group of elderly Chinese, and us. What Mr. Momo forgot to mention to Momo is that once you are gondola-esque you have a chance to chicken out half way up because you have to CHANGE gondolas. Momo was ready to walk back down, but alas, there was no way to go but up. Straight up. Momo peeked, but barely. Mostly Momo was trying to breath since the air was a little bit thin. At the top, Mr. Momo dropped Momo off in the cafeteria which is one measly floor under the restaurant with table clothes. Momo could not make it up one more flight of stairs at 12,ooo plus feet - one's feet move like they are nailed to the ground.

Just because it is good trivia, the restaurant at the top of Aiguille du Midi is the highest one on the planet. Momo thought the cafeteria one measly flight down was good enough. Thankfully, L&P were cozy and sleeping back in the hotel room, which if Momo was a wiser person, would be choosing to be there instead of up here.

L&P have nothing to say about the Mount Blanc except they were curious about the white stuff. Mr. Momo rates it a big giant 10 and Momo has memory block.