1. Not all boulangeries are created equal. I know this now as I have a particular one in my neighborhood that I like best. In fact, I don’t really enjoy bread from other boulangeries now, preferring the perfect crusty loafs from my little shop.
2. I now recognize specific dogs in the Jardin du Luxembourg. There is the full sized poodle who drags along its tiny owner, the old slow golden retriever being dragged by its owner, the several old ladies who all walk their cocker spaniels together, and more Jack Russels then I have ever seen, as they are quite a popular Parisian pooch. Along with the dogs comes of course, the dog droppings. This is unanimously acknowledged as a problem in Paris, but yet no one does anything about it. In fact, the girls even have a children’s book entitled “Wondercrotte” (literally, Super-crap). The heroine id’s dog poop left laying about and shams owners into better habits. The lesson amuses, but apparently falls short of convincing the Parisian dog walkers.
3. I know all the bells that ring from the many churches around my neighborhood. I know which bells coincide with the sparkling of the Eiffel tower, etc.
4. I used to wonder why French families would always have almost empty Nutella jars lying around, as if refusing to believe that none of that precious substance remains. As I scraped out my own jar over and over I realized that hope does indeed spring eternal.
5. The other day I went to my little quiche restaurant to have a slice. The man (he and the Quiche lady run the place) came out to chat with me, showing me which slices he was planning to eat on break, and then right be for I left he said – instead of the customary “Au revoir,” “A la prochain!,” equivalent to “See you next time.” I am in.