Jessica Simpson is ubiquitous. So are Starbucks and McDonald's. And "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley. And Osama Bin Laden, if Taliban infomercials are to be believed.
Twenty-seven hours in Paris this past weekend, and even though we spent a week there two years ago, I felt like I wanted to sightsee the city all over again. I wanted to re-clamber up to the top of the Notre Dame and hang with the gargoyles. I wanted to go round and round up the hill of Montmarte. I wanted to cross all nine bridges of the Seine. I wanted to crepe my way across the Latin Quarter.
In Paris, the Eiffel Tower is everywhere. You can see it when the Metro goes above ground, winding in and out of side streets in Saint-Germain, through fruits and flowers at the marche on Rue Montereuil. Like Bogey as Marlowe in a late 1930s-model jalopy, it followed us everywhere we went. It was the backdrop to our Sunday stroll down Champs-Elysees.
I remember looking at pictures or watching TV about cities like Paris when growing up and wondering what it must be like to actually live in such a place, where you truly walk out of your Renaissance-era apartment in the morning and where you really do carry home a steaming-hot baguette fresh from the oven. It's like being in the movies.
So's living down the street from the ballpark when your team wins its first World Series in 99 years. Is it a better Hollywood ending if we made it an even 100? Let's not wait till next next year to find out, please.
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