Finding love after 50. The website for middle aged singles and senior singles, providing information and dating advice for middle age dating and senior
dating. This column's topic: Paris is a city for romance.
Paris a City for Romance and Love
BLAKE: South County adviser on middle-age relationships
By TOM BLAKE For The Register's South County Weekly Newspapers
PARIS – My life partner Greta and I arrived at Paris' North Station after a three-hour trip from London on the 190 mph Eurostar train through the Chunnel, the
tunnel under the English Channel.
Our hotel, the Intercontinental on Rue Rivoli, is centrally located near upscale shops and restaurants, and within walking distance of the Louvre.
To avoid the long lines at the Louvre, we arrived at 9 a.m., at the side entrance, on Rue Tivoli, when the doors opened. The staff is cordial and restaurants inside are clean and efficient.
One display featured the 140-carat Le Regent diamond, discovered in India in 1698. Glad Greta didn't ask for one of those.
You hold hands in, and not just to keep warm, it's mighty romantic walking along the, meditating in Notre Dame Cathedral, looking up at the Eiffel Tower,
reflecting at the flame of the unknown French soldier at the Arc de Triomphe brings a couple together.
The temperature was in the 40s, sometimes windy, sometimes raining lightly.
We bundled up and walked everywhere, except the day we took the Metro (Paris' subway) to the Montmartre District.
Selecting restaurants is fun; there are so many tempting choices.
One night near the Opera House we looked at a baked potato place, a crepe place and a fondue place.
We settled on LaPapata, which served baked potatoes as entrees, and then had crepes and hot chocolate at the fondue place for dessert.
Greta wanted New Year's Eve to be romantic; "once in a lifetime," she said. We left the hotel at 8:30 p.m.
There was an extra police presence at most intersections. The United States Embassy was heavily fortified; we stayed clear of it.
For dinner, we selected an intimate Swiss restaurant; hot cheese fondue sounded good on a cold night.
The tables were crammed together.
Two young French women sat next to us, and noticed us wince when one requested an ashtray. They asked if it was OK to smoke, we said we
preferred they didn't.
They complied so we bought them wine and gave them one of my business cards. They asked what "Single Again Columnist" meant. When we explained,
the 23-year-old asked if we could find her an American husband, age 20-25.
After dinner, we joined a million people gathered on the Champs Elysees, which had been closed to traffic for a mile extending from the Arc de
Triomphe. White Christmas lights covered the trees on both sides of the avenue. From the languages being spoken, we could tell few Americans were in the crowd.
During the traditional kiss at midnight, corks blew and champagne rained.
Fireworks exploded at our feet and overhead.
I shook hands with a guy, perhaps from Russia, perhaps from Belgium. Within a half hour, the Christmas lights were turned off – an effort, we guessed, to
disperse the crowd.
We walked a mile back to the hotel, amid people honking horns and hanging out of car windows, as if France had won the World Cup in soccer.
So that's how Greta and I started 2003. Romantic? Once in a lifetime? For sure.
The day after we returned home, Paris had three inches of snow – we'd been fortunate with the weather.
Glory Johnson, Laguna Beach " enjoyed your column as London is one of my favorite cities."
Contributing to our being tired was a six-hour snow delay at JFK, which no planning could have avoided.
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