Yesterday the French celebrated their freedom and today I celebrated mine. My kind husband graciously kicked me out the door and told me to go explore, shop, and do whatever on my own. Before they left on their adventure, Kenny wisely stuffed them with energy muffins:
While I enjoyed the first hour of walking at my own pace, stopping where I pleased, and not worrying about my children becoming Parisian roadkill, I kind of missed the family and asked if it was okay if I rejoined them. They welcomed me back with open arms. We met at the metro and I got on their schedule. First stop, Arc de Triomphe:
Samantha giving us a history lesson:
My daughters respectfully mauled each other in front of the tomb of the unknown soldier, may he rest in peace:
Samantha took a break and recharged her batteries:
After L'Arc, we wandered down the Champs-Elysees and looked at some fancy cars:
And then we had a super-fancy meal at the most crowded, most expensive McDonald's I have ever visited. The girls insisted:
Kenny lost in thought, trying to reconcile how this "meal" cost $20:
Despite what it looks like, Kenny didn't have to dig too deep into those pockets of his. Every store in France is having a major sale until the end of July:
And Monoprix, or as Eliza likes to call it, Mona Pree:
We headed home for our midday rest and Samantha had some fun planning out the next week's worth of activities. For dinner, we headed into the Marais so I could introduce Kenny to the world's best falafel. Window shopping on the way:
When we arrived on the Rue des Rosiers, we noticed that most of the falafel stands were either closed or in the process of closing. We approached one of them to ask why on earth they were closing at 6:30 on a Monday night. The nice man proceeded to explain to me that the Jewish people were celebrating a holiday and all the shops were closing. I made the mistake of telling him I was a Jew and had no idea what holiday he was talking about. He looked at me with shock and disappointment. It was a sad moment indeed. But I recovered from my overwhelming sense of disgrace and found a fabulous secular falafel stand which was more than happy to serve a second-rate Jew. I bought Kenny an Israeli beer to ameliorate the guilt:
And the girls played happily at their usual playground while we stuffed our face with falafels and nutella crepes, the dinner of champions:
Very soon thereafter Eliza, with no sense of irony and all the drama she could muster, perfectly embodied the words written on her tee shirt:
Oh how quickly a nutella crepe fixes everything:
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