A few of my favourite French things (parting poem pour Paris)

Cars on slick city streets, motorcycle engines idling, local bands playing American covers at Manfred and patrons clapping along to the music.

Arts & Metiers, Chatelet, metro doors that don’t open automatically and the promise of possibility that overtook me at each new stop.

Ellene, Imane, Benjamin and Stephane, who showed me, even in a country that dislikes differences, how similar we all are; Bhuddist, Muslim, Jewish, or otherwise.

The owners of family-run Lebanese restaurants who kept me well fed and in good spirits, the lady at the Laundromat who helped me do my first load, and my unforgettable neighbour in the miniscule apartment one floor up – without her I would surely have been locked out for days, not hours.

SYMPA, ET VOILA, MARON and the many other French expressions I'll no longer have the pleasure of hearing on a daily basis.

Savoring every single fragrant bite of crepes with apple compote, fresh figs and vanilla lavender confections.

And most importantly, mon Coeur, Marie, with whom I now have memories to last a lifetime and a friendship plus fort que the French Empire.