In the most fashionable city of Paris, it’s en vogue to wear your heart on your sleeve, jump into a romance like an unsuspecting tourist gambler in Vegas, and hold a kiss for five minutes or more on the street midday (yes I did see that and clocked it at six minutes). So here’s a picture of one of many notable bridges as seen from a boat ride at dusk.

Luckily, the previous week’s heatwave gave way to cooler nights where one could sport a casual coat and a light scarf on what was a glorious time of Bastille in Paris. I ate my fill of magret du canard and confit du canard so I wouldn’t yearn for it until next year’s visit. I drank the gifts of the vine and yes they were divine. I spoke the language of the natives with a more than novice command of the vocabulary and accent,  and was warmly received despite my horrific grammar.

Along with the one night cabaret engagement at Swan Bar which was a pleasantly suprising comedy of airs, a very pleasant date on a Friday night, and a kaleidoscope of pictures shot with veracity, my third trip to Paris proved to be another success. It also spoke to the old adage  “Do one thing everyday that terrifies you”. As the boat approached the bridge you hear the American accented English recorded tour guide blaring through the speakers “And here is the most romantic bridge in Paris. Now turn to the person you’re with and kiss them.” My travel buddy Eric would not have appreciated such a move on my part, nor was I longing to follow what seems to be the French equivalent of the mistletoe tradition. Right then and there I acknowledged the thought that I might actually be happy not kissing anyone – and that terrified me.