Still on the Menu

I resolve to go to Paris more often. Every time I do go I wonder why I have left it so long. Even more than Rome, it is home from home.

It was not always thus. My first visit, with no money and stuck in a huge, army-style Auberge de Jeunesse somewhere in the Southern suburbs, was not auspicious. It was probably another ten years before I returned. Even then, I did not quite feel comfortable for a day or two: if you go to the wrong restaurants, queue interminably for the Louvre and look to the Parisians for a friendly word of advice, you can have a pretty rough time of it in Paris. The second time I was still on a tight budget and things weren’t going too well, until we happened upon the Brasserie de l’Isle St-Louis.