Quelle journée! After a leisurely, rather jetlagged start, I bought a carnet of (10) métro tickets and scooted up to the Arc de Triomphe to begin my own triumphal return to Paris. My first stop was the nearest postcard spinner where an elderly gentleman – the friendliest Frenchman ever or a seasoned senior gigolo? hmmm -- started to chat me up. I avoided whatever le monsieur was trying to make happen and continued on down the avenue, adding more minutes to my French SIM card and grabbing a sandwich along the way.

I'd no sooner crossed Franklin Roosevelt and entered into the little nearby park to eat my lunch when I was assailed by watery eyes and an incessant bout of sneezing. I was verily repelled! As soon as I moved away, I was fine. I have no idea which of the many varieties of flowers there I'm apparently allergic to, but it seems to have been a localized event. Thank god I'm not allergic to the chestnut trees – they're all in full bloom, too, and they are EVERYWHERE.

Before reaching the Place de la Concorde with all its new glittery gilt on fountains, lampposts and obelisk, I encountered not one but THREE COW STATUES. (Check out MY PHOTOS link -- I've uploaded them to my usual Ofoto.com.) But besides a cute guy riding his bicycle seated backwards on the handlebars, I didn't encounter any further evidence that I'd just walked into a Dali painting.

At lunchtime, all of Paris was outside soaking up the sun. I walked all the way to the smaller fountain in the Jardin des Tuilleries before I found an empty chair. I had at one point found an empty bench, but it was encrusted with old bird droppings and, given the big signs at the airport warning folks about the Avian Flu, I decided to pass it by.

Originally, I was just going to walk by major landmarks today, maybe write my postcards near the Tour Eiffel. But there it was, the huge signs for the Jean-Auguste Dominique INGRES exhibit, announcing that it closes on Sunday. So, I bought a ticket and descended the pyramid into the Louvre. It was very crowded, and when I exited the exhibit, the line going in was enormous. I'd beat the rush. Needing to air out my brain – which I always seem to need to do after intently gazing at walls full of masterpieces – I strolled around the excavated walls of the original medieval Chateau du Louvre in the museum's basement. I don't know whether it was the lack of crowds or the lack of vibrant colors, but all that neatly stacked, old, gray stone served as the perfect brain sorbet. But that was enough. I was still jetlagged enough to not want to try to stuff any more culture into my head, so I continued my walk.

I strolled the long way around the Louvre along the Rue de Rivoli going east before cutting over to the Seine. It was now cloudy – though still quite balmy – and the bouquinistes had to scramble to cover their wares as the rain started. But it was a false alarm. If the clouds were cannon, the rain was just a warning shot over our bow. I crossed back over to the Rive Gauche over my favorite bridge, the Pont des Arts footbridge. When I passed the Pont Royal, I happened to look down and notice a line of tents erected along the Quai Voltaire! I'm pretty sure that it's not a sanctioned campground and I almost wanted to hang around to see if the police were going to rout them all.

But no, I elected to wave hello to the Musée d'Orsay and head over to the Solférino metro stop… where a plaque told me all sorts of interesting stuff about the Swiss founder of La Croix Rouge way back at the beginning of the 19th Century after the Napoleonic battle of Solférino saw 6,000 men killed and 42,000 injured in 12 hours. The founder (whose name I didn't have time to memorize as the train arrived) was just a businessman visiting Napoleon to get him to invest in oil drilling in Algeria, but was so appalled by the carnage that he rallied and organized the local people into caring for the injured soldiers. The armies had more veterinarians than surgeons at that time because horses were more valuable! As soon as I have copious amounts of Internet access, I'm gonna be Googling this dude.

Back at the hotel, I parked myself at the local Brasserie/Salon de Thé/Tabac place and finally got around to filling out a few cartes postales. I then grabbed some Vietnamese takeout and headed up to my room to upload photos. It's almost midnight now, but I'm still in some other time zone. Good thing I'm not tired… the local rowdies have just left the bar and are attempting to sing something. Friday night, I guess, is pretty much the same everywhere.