I was born in the year of the Rooster. My husband was born in the year of the Horse. According to the Chinese Zodiac, Rooster and Horse are the worst possible match. It's a good thing I don't put any stock into the Zodiac, Chinese or otherwise. A fun parlor game, as far as I'm concerned. I do know a few people who believe in it quite strongly (Nancy Regan comes to mind, RIP). Then again, there are PLENTY of people who believe God is a white man with a long beard sitting up in the clouds, controlling our very lives. Everyone who knows anything is clear that She is a strong black woman. Pfffft.
I can't quite fathom just yet that next month we will be in France. And Spain. Hopping on and off public transit with our Paris Pass and skipping the lines to the L'ourve and Musee d'Orsay. Pinch me.
I am reading a fascinating history of Expat Americans in Paris during the Nazi occupation. I expect this will color my view of places in the city, knowing that Nazi flags hung there, and there, and there. The US had not declared war on Germany at the beginning of the occupation, so all it took was a red tag from the US Embassy on your home and business to let the Nazis know they were to be hands-off. The courage of the handful of people who stayed in Paris (both French and foreigners) is legendary. Of course there were collaborators. But the people who quietly, secretly resisted, who hid Jewish citizens and ensured their safe exodus from the city, takes my breath away.
I look forward to experiencing all I can in this magical and historic city. Walking, site seeing, museums, and of course the food. The food! Our host at the apartment where we are staying has left detailed descriptions of his favorite neighborhood restaurants, including his favorite dishes.
I hope the all the walking will balance out all the pain et fromage I plan on devouring. If not, who cares? You only live once.