On my way back from the gym, thinking how elegant les gens are, at least in this quartier, I startled a woman as I was getting off the very dark elevator. I don’t know–navy raincoat, scruff from a few days, my gray McTet sweatshirt, jeans, sneakers? Un voleur, peut-etre? I said “Bonjour”, she said “Bonjour” and that was that.

The waitress at Chez Paul, a lively, neighbourhood-type bistro in the 11th, found my accent tres droll but it made for a very fun lunch with the super-charming and irrepressible Niki Tapscott. While we introduced her to the splendours of tart tatin, she filled us in on the workings of Insead, where she is doing an MBA, along with the intricacies of Twitter, Kindle Cloud and the like, probably not a fair trade. I told her that we barely had telephones when I was growing up. Anyway, check out the Niki’s website, The Lone Brigadier (I can’t seem to hyperlink it for some reason, Niki).

As usual, certain bureaucratic “No”s stymied me in a certain quest at the RATP where we traipsed after lunch but, whatever…

Dinner was anohter matter, haute cuisine, Franco-American style by Daniel Rose at Spring. Like Frenchie, all I can say is that if anything, the hype understates this place and if you are coming to Paris anytime soon, call for a reservation. Mostly Americans in the place but a few French, especially one guy who Sandy had to assure me was not Bono. (He spoke fluent French although, who knows, maybe Bono does as well?)

As Spring was in the first, it was a warm night and pleasant walk home through the Louvre.