Sortie.

As we drove down a french freeway in Yanne's convertible, Ariane turned and said, "See? That was kind of like time travel."

She referred to our afternoon in the gardens of Versailles. String music played out of hidden speakers, allowing someone with a royally inclined imagination to pretend their was a string quartet following him around, continually playing his favorite song (the music was on repeat). I even drank my Orangina like a king - through a straw. Only peasants drink straight from the can. Right as we were about to leave, the fountains turned on, forcing me to make a royal decree: all fountains should have water out of jets, not statue's mouths. Water jets out of a statue's mouth is not pleasant.

Then another Orangina, again like a king, near a modern art museum with Caroline (who should be reading this now. Hi Caroline!)

Ariane and I traversed the streets of Paris one last time before dinner with Paul, Jean, Ariane, and Yanne. I had scallops, then créme bruleé. And everyone sipped nice wine and either talked in english about Paris, music, the weather in England, and literature, or in french about war and... banking? Resolution, and I know that I have probably typed this before: I will return to Paris, french vastly improved.

And now I am repacked and showered, with an address for the english cab driver and pounds in my pocket instead of euros. London Orientation awaits.