Susan's Paris
 

<b>December, 2009 — Au Vieux Chêne</b>

I sat with my wife, Susan, in Au Vieux Chêne, her favourite restaurant in Paris. In the pause between the main course and dessert, we took in the warmth, the sound of conversation, the clink of cutlery, and the smell of food. One of the waiters was greeting a new arrival at the door.

“It is unmistakably Paris, isn’t it?” I asked. Susan was silent for a moment, and then said, “You’ll be back.”

I could not utter. Susan was terminally ill; this was her last trip to Paris, the city that she adored.

She passed away last June, six months after we returned to Canada.

<b>February, 2011 — Paris, again</b>

Last month my brother Richard, his wife Esther, and I went to Paris for 17 days. We shared a large two-bedroom apartment on rue des Petits Champs in the 1st. It was a poignant choice, as Susan and I had rented it twice before. As I described in a previous trip report, the apartment is spacious, bright, elegant, and well appointed. There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The kitchen, dining area, and living room share a large open space, creating a convivial living arrangement. There is a study off the living room that is furnished with a big desk and foldout couch. The apartment is quiet and comfortable; the owners and their Paris representative are kind, responsive, and a pleasure to deal with. Here’s the link:

www.homeaway.com/vacation-rental/p143450i

The apartment is a stone’s throw from avenue de l’Opéra. This area is a bit more commercial than some might like; it certainly does not have the intimacy of neighbourhood that one might feel in, say, parts of the 3rd, but it is close to the Louvre, Palais Royal, Opéra Garnier, and the Grands Magasins. It is well served by bus and metro lines, and it is central enough that you can walk most anywhere you want — rue Montorgueil, for example, is about 12 minutes away, and there are wonderful bakeries, fish mongers, poultry suppliers, and butchers within a couple of blocks.

My daughter Kate joined us for part of the visit, staying at the Hôtel Mansart near Place Vendôme. (She gave it a good report card, by the way.) While Kate and I consider ourselves to be old Paris hands, Richard and Esther had been only once before. It was a pleasure to act as their pathfinder.

I’m going link to photographs as we go along. I should mention that Richard took almost all of them. Here are the first few. (They are best viewed as a slideshow; just click on “slideshow” near the upper right corner.)

http://AnselmAdorne.zenfolio.com/p1057821057

How generous of you to share this with us on the forum.

The photos are beautiful.

I'm happy that you went back to Paris, were able to stay in "your" apartment, and are taking us along with you. Thank you.

Looking forward to more, a great start with the photos.

I have missed your reports, Anselm. So good to have you back.

Thanks, tarquin and cw.

This post takes us back to Susan's last trip:


<b>December 2009 — Batignolles</b>

Susan and I stayed in a one-bedroom apartment in Batignolles, a delightful enclave in the 17th. It was on rue Truffaut, a quiet street parallel to rue des Batignolles. Old timers here may remember the apartment; Nikki had rented it before us and had reported on its features. I would today be singing its praises, but the flat was severely damaged in a fire a couple of months after we were there. The neighbourhood, tucked into the triangle between rue de Clichy and the railway cutting down to Gare St-Lazare, is charming. I wouldn’t hesitate to rent in that area again.

The apartment was cozy and tranquil. Susan, who had already lost a lot of stamina, was generally able to get out once a day. We made a few bus trips into the centre of Paris, mostly to restaurants, but Susan was usually content to walk around Batignolles or to curl up with a book. Oddly, I have one vivid memory from the apartment: the family who lived upstairs had young children. We never saw them, we only heard them, but by the end of two weeks we felt that we knew the whole family. There was a toddler, who pattered from room to room. An older child practiced the violin, and someone played Comptine d’un autre été : l’après-midi on the piano. If you ever saw Amélie, you’ll remember:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=CgYnRh8ACGQ

Susan, still intensely curious about food and cookery, poked into all the shops along rue de Batignolles and rue de Lévy, a market street like rue Montorgueil. She visited the marché bio on boulevard des Batignolles. We walked, too, in Square des Batignolles, that small but perfectly formed park, marvelling at the size of the plane trees. The deep railway cutting, which borders the park, fascinated me; I often stood on the edge and watched the commuter trains glide by. I especially liked it at dusk when there was a constant swoosh of trains below my feet.

Kate joined us on that trip; we wanted the three of us to be together for as much time as we could. She stayed in a hotel on rue d’Amsterdam near the Liège metro station. Late at night I would walk her back to her hotel. We often started to talk about what we had done that day or what we might do the next, but inevitably we spoke about Susan, who seemed to be getting weaker by the day. I would then walk home alone from the hotel, a route that took me past the animated crowds in Place de Clichy and then into deserted streets leading to the apartment. I think it rained every night I walked back.

Yes, I'm glad to see you back, AA. I'm glad that Paris is back on your list, because I have noted in the past that it is not always easy to return to certain places loaded with shared memories.

A lovely memorial to Susan that I am glad you are sharing with the rest of yr Fodors friends.

I am very much looking fwd to reading the rest of yr report, as we are thinking that Paris shd be in our plans this year.

(Personal note: We stayed a 2nd month in Savannah, returning on March 5. Off to Bermuda for a week at the end of April. Hope you'll be in Ottawa sometime soon)

Transported back to the apartment in an instant looking at the photos.

Lovely report - looking forward to reading the rest.

Best

Liz

This is such a lovely memoire - I feel privileged to see your name again, and especially to share in this trip report.

I have always liked your writing, and I think we have all missed you.

You write so beautifully. Thank you for again sharing your journeys.

p.s. Your daughter's haircut is great! Really stylish and it suits her.

taconictraveler said it better than I ever could. I was happy when I saw a comment by you recently, and feel privileged you are sharing your memories with us. Best wishes, Anselm!

Thanks for sharing your story and photos. Very inspirational, and a lovely way for your wife to live on..

Good to hear from you again.

Ellen & I really enjoyed our evening with you in Dec '09. Kirs at our apartment in the 7th while sharing conversation about Susan & other topics, watching the light show on the Eiffel Tower, then dinner and too much wine at Les Fables de la Fontaine. Just like you walked Kate back to her hotel late at night, we recall walking you to the #80 bus stop on Ave Bosquet on a very late and wet evening. Ellen & I have thought of you often.

We're glad to see you back in Paris again - tough memories & wonderful memories.

Stu & Ellen Dudley

Good to see you back.

Thank you for sharing this bittersweet story.

Good to see you back, AA.

Lovely memorial to Susan.

((I))

What a lovely report. Thank you.

Thank you for sharing this journey with us, Ernie. It's good to read you once again. Best, EJ ((#))

Thank you all so much for your very kind comments.

Next up is an account of our recent museum visiting and then another flashback to Susan in Paris.


<b>February, 2011 — A few museums</b>

Museums were a priority on this trip. Esther has a particular affection for the Lady and the Unicorn tapestries, so we spent a morning at Cluny. (Susan and I had been several times before. She, too, loved the tapestries, while I am fascinated by the heads of the Kings of Judah.) We also went to the Musée d’Orsay, Orangerie, Arts et Métiers, and Arts Décoratifs.

Our crowning touch was cracking the Louvre. Susan and I had visited it a twice before and had found it almost overwhelming, but Esther’s preparation and enthusiasm carried us along. We bought four-day passes at the little store on the lower level of the Carrousel du Louvre (there were no lineups), and then used the lower level entrance from the same building to enter the museum. We tried to arrive within 15 minutes of opening time and we generally stayed less than 90 minutes at a time. We usually went back in the late afternoon for another hour or so. Off-peak times allowed us to clear the security checkpoint without any delay, and we found the crowds in the museum galleries to be quite manageable. We also took advantage of the late opening on Wednesday evenings, arriving around 5:45 pm and staying until 7:00 pm.

We usually walked over together and then split up, agreeing to meet back at the apartment when we ran out of steam. My best strategy was to pick a single area (the Egyptian artifacts, the northern European painters, or Napoléon III’s apartments, for example), concentrate on that, and then leave. Anything more than 60 or 70 minutes made my brain fog over.

Here are a couple more photos:

http://AnselmAdorne.zenfolio.com/p610294669

<b>December, 2009 — Place des Vosges</b>

A young girl, perhaps nine years old, was walking towards us with her parents. “That red sauce was awesome, ” she said, in a high clear voice. We were on rue des Rosiers, just a few doors away from L’As du Falafel. Her family had just eaten there, while we were on our way in. I recommend it. The atmosphere is casual, the service is brisk — no, it’s actually lightning fast — and the flavours are intense. The red sauce is indeed awesome; that child may someday be a food writer.

After lunch, Susan, Kate, and I walked down rue des Francs Bourgeois to Place des Vosges. It is superb in its symmetry — we always tried to spend a bit of time there. We sat for a few minutes, and then it started to rain. I suggested that we walk to the bus stop, and started to walk away. Susan, moving slowly, followed. Kate lingered and then took a photograph. That picture haunts me, it absolutely haunts me, but we displayed it at Susan’s funeral.

http://AnselmAdorne.zenfolio.com/p662583290

Stu, I remember very well, and in fact mention it towards the end the end of the trip report.

Ted, I will likely be in Ottawa at the end of April and beginning of May. I'll drop you a note when I know for sure.

Leely, Kate is delighted.

Now on to a day trip to Reims and more cooking from a suitcase.

<b>February, 2011 — We drink Champagne</b>

Richards, Esther, and I made a day trip to Reims. The logistics were pretty simple: the day before we went, Esther called and reserved a tour for us at Veuve Cliquot. I then booked us tickets on the TGV from Paris Gare de l’Est to Reims. (Interestingly, first class was cheaper than the least expensive second class seats at the moment I was booking, so we went in first.)

The trip from Paris is 45 minutes. We spent the morning in the cathedral. I had seen it before on the trip I made to Verdun, but this was Richard and Esther’s first exposure to the thin walls, soaring ceilings, and vast windows of Gothic architecture. The church itself is worth the journey. I find the proportions so much more pleasing than Notre-Dame in Paris, and it is so much brighter inside. If you go, be sure to look at the stained glass by Chagall, it’s in the eastern end of the church.

We lunched at Le Grand Café on Place Drouet d’Erlon. This is not a place for fine cooking, but the lead-off glass of champagne (Henri Abelé, a producer we cannot find in Canada), the moules frites, and an agreeable waiter made for a fun meal. (Well, there was also some white wine along the way, and one of our party did have a second glass of champagne; we rolled out of there in very good spirits.) We then walked to the Veuve Cliquot champagne house, arriving just in time for our 2 pm tour. Our guide was poised and articulate, but she stretched my French comprehension to the utmost. I probably missed all the good bits.

A few pictures from Reims: http://anselmadorne.zenfolio.com/p628145949

<b>February, 2011 — More cooking from a suitcase</b>

Susan’s Paris was all about food; rarely did I eat or drink without some recollection of her passion. She had a couple of rules about apartment food. The first was: keep it simple. Richard, Esther, and I shopped on rue Montorgueil every day or two and brought back celery remoulade, patés, ham (jambon à l’os, which was delightfully hammy), or rotisserie chicken. We added a salty Brie de Melun, an intense Bleu d’Auvergne, or a pungent Munster, and then stepped into a green grocer to get whatever we needed for another fresh salad. We added bread, wine, a bottle of Badoit, a few gherkins, and some olives from a stall at the market, and enjoyed a delightful lunch.

Susan’s second rule was: use the best that France has to offer. Richard and I bought a Breton chicken — a Volaille de Kerguilavant, according to its label — from the butcher on rue de Marché St-Honoré. This one, raised “en plein air,” had unquestionably walked; it had a firm, muscular flesh and a rich flavour. Richard tossed carrots and potatoes into the roasting pan, making a simple meal.

We also bought two lamb shoulder roasts, one from the butcher on rue de Marché St-Honoré, the other from a butcher we found on rue Ste-Anne, only two blocks from our front door. We discovered, too, wonderful saucisses de Toulouse, which we braised with onion, garlic, tomatoes, and potatoes. (It’s a Marcella Hazan recipe. Do not tell her that I used French sausages in an Italian recipe.)

Cooking (and drinking) from a suitcase: http://anselmadorne.zenfolio.com/p865896101

Thank you for the lovely report - it brought tears to my eyes as I read your interweaving of memories and your recent trip.

I'm touched by the photo of the Place des Vosges -- it has such a moody feeling but it so captures the bittersweetness of your memoir.

Thank you again for writing -- it is a pleasure to read, and I look forward to more.

Paule

Did you find the new Spice store on Rue Ste Anne (across from the butcher but nearer to Rue des Petits Champs?) I went in our last day and it took an extreme act of self control to only buy 6 kinds of vanilla and 4 kinds of black pepper! Here's a link

http://www.epices-roellinger.com/ind...p?code_lang=en

AA, another thanks for posting your report - and sharing with us.

I am really enjoying it.

Susan's philosophy (keeping it simple) is one we follow in Paris as well. It is so easy to do when everything is so fresh and of high-quality.

This is so good on so many levels!!

AA, I love your writing style....your opening post had me in tears. Thank you for sharing your memories.

We have booked this apartment for 2 weeks next year.

Just saw Elizabeth's post on the nearby Olivier Roellinger's store. We stayed at one of his hotels in Brittany and enjoyed dining at 2 of his restaurants. Very happy to know about this shop.

Looking forward to more!

I don't know you and did not know your wife, but I certainly wish I had.

Thank your for sharing your past with her and your present love of Paris.

The Place des Vosges photo is indeed lovely and shadowy, bittersweet. Reims looks terrific; I will have to make the trek next time.

Am headed off to Sicily. Will catch up when I return.

I am finding it hard to read this report in one sitting. One entry at a time is working for me. It is a pleasure to read your evocative writing and to remember Susan in such a beautiful way. And you and Susan's Paris are looking good.

Following raptly.

Liz, how did I miss that spice shop? We walked up and down that street several times going to and from Le Mesturet (more on that restaurant in the next post) and visiting that butcher. Oh well, next time.

Judy, I think you will be very, very happy in that apartment.

Leely, safe travels.

And to the others who have posted, thank you so much. It is a pleasure to share this with you.

<b>February, 2011 — Piétons attention traversez en 2 temps</b>

When not in museums, we explored Paris, sometimes by metro, sometimes by bus, but more often on foot. We walked around Trocadéro, the Arc de Triomphe, Tuileries, Père Lachaise, and great amounts of the riverbank. We visited Shakespeare and Company and an Armor Lux store in Montparnasse. Some of us went to the Longchamps store, and I plunged into the basement of BHV, emerging with wonderful doorstops for my newly renovated living room.

Richard took a lot of photos on the streets of Paris. Here’s a link to some of his best:

http://anselmadorne.zenfolio.com/p1001084985


<b>February, 2011 — Restaurants: Merci de votre visite</b>

I once told Susan that I fell a little bit more in love with her every time we dined in Paris. That was in Café Constant, which we somehow missed this trip. But I do want to mention four places that we did get to.

In December 2009, Susan, Kate, and I had eaten at Le Café des Musées, a place recommended by Alexander Lobrano in <i>Hungry for Paris</i>. It was, sadly, a very bad experience; good cooking was marred by the most chaotic service that we had ever encountered. Dishes appeared randomly, cutlery was removed but not replaced, and fellow diners wagged fingers at harried waiters. “They are completely rudderless,” I recollect Susan saying. It was almost funny.

But remembering the food, I thought we might give it another go. I am glad we did, as it was a very different experience. Happily, someone was clearly in charge of the room; as busy as it was, we got the right cutlery, and our dishes showed up together. And rest assured, the kitchen works. While Richard and Esther were a tiny bit disappointed with their assiette de saucisson, my salade d’hiver — smoked duck, endive, dried fruits, and nuts, perfectly dressed — was wonderful. Esther enjoyed her entrecôte, frites, and salad, while Richard and I tried the parmentier gourmand de faisan, ground pheasant with a spectacular potato topping. I would definitely go again. Café des Musées, 49, rue de Turenne in the 3rd, 01 42 72 96 17.

Warm hospitality, fine cooking, and reasonable prices are the hallmarks of Le Mesturet, another of Lobrano’s recommendations. We went twice, discovering on the first visit that the combination of entrée and plat principal was more than enough good food. On our second visit, we simply ordered two entrées each, which provided ample variety in a more comfortable quantity. One entrée in particular stood out for me: Aubergine grillée à la tomate et au chèvre frais — these were subtle flavours perfectly blended. If, like many diners, you are concerned about <i>un bon rapport qualité-prix</i>, as the French like to describe it, I think this restaurant scores highly. Le Mesturet, 77, rue de Richelieu in the 2nd, 01 42 97 40 68.

I mention Les Fines Gueules but with a bit of reservation. There is a warm, relaxed ambiance in this tightly packed wine bar; the chalkboard menu reflects the season. The food is good: we started with velouté de champignon, smoked salmon on shredded fennel, and half a dozen oysters, continued with lotte on a bed of bulgar, zucchini, and mushrooms, and bavette de boeuf with a red wine pan reduction. The desert — Paris Brest — was spectacular. But when I think back to this question of the quality-price ratio, this restaurant may be tipping the balance the wrong way. It was the most expensive of all the places we dined, and I was not convinced that the food was better than at Le Café des Musées. Nonetheless, I might try it again, just to be sure. Les Fines Gueules, 43, rue Croix des Petits Champs in the 1st, 01 42 61 35 41.

Way back in 2007, Susan and I ate at Le Duc de Richelieu, another of Lobrano’s recommendations. Tucked away on a side street in the 11th, it was a quirky little place with a classic bistro menu. The food was good, the price was right, and the ambiance — a very mixed clientele, including homeward bound beer drinking commuters, with their motorcycle helmets perched on the bar — intriguing. But a subsequent visit a year or two later was a disappointment. The décor was the same, the menu was similar, but someone had sucked the air out of the room.

In 2009 we noticed an update on Lobrano’s blog. Stéphane Delleré, the man behind Le Duc de Richelieu, had sold it and had opened a new place called La Cave Beauvau in the 8th. Susan and I went in December 2009 and discovered a long narrow room, with a welcoming bar on one side and a small dining room at the back. “Pas des casques sur le zinc,” observed Susan. No motorcycle helmets on the bar. No, le Duc had changed his clothes and had moved uptown, kitty corner to the Palais de l’Élysée (or Chez Sarko, as some would say). The menu is familiar, the prices are still manageable, and the atmosphere, while very different, is still warm and animated.

Richard, Esther, Kate, and went on a Friday night. Bistro entreées were followed by entrecôte and frites de maison. The wine list is weighted to Beaujolais; we drank the Morgon. The deserts — tart aux poires for someone and gateau chocolat avec caramel salé for two others — were wonderful.

After we settled our bill, we stood near the bar and shuffled into our coats. M. Delleré drifted over to wish us a good evening. I mentioned having dined at Le Duc de Richelieu some years ago and asked when he had sold it. He placed four glasses on the bar, poured a hefty measure of calvados into each and put the bottle on the bar. Three years ago, he said, and left us to drink. He was back for handshakes when we were finally ready to leave. Susan would have been delighted. La Cave Beauvau, 4, rue des Saussaies in the 8th, 01 42 65 24 90.

Here are a couple of restaurant photos: http://anselmadorne.zenfolio.com/p970098718

I don't quite know what to say. I am following your report with both a smile on my face, but also a tear in my eye. It just sounds so beautiful, all of it.

We have made a few trips to France and I will be back with DD this summer as she finishes up a study abroad experience. We too will be taking a day trip to Reims, so I especially loved those photos and your writeup of it.

Thank you so much for sharing all of this. It is one of the best trip reports I have read in a long time:)

I am in Paris as I read your touching words. Everything will be even more beautiful than usual now that I walk the steps of your memories. Thank you for sharing ......

Thanks, mms and Traviata. Two more posts today and then we're done.


<b>December, 2009 — Paris by ambulance</b>

On our last Friday, we had arranged to meet Stu Dudley and his wife for dinner. Susan felt even less energetic and begged off, so I went and met Stu and his wife for a drink in their Paris Perfect apartment (it was very, very nice; I can see how people like those apartments so much). As Stu mentioned in his post, above, we then had a very good meal at Les Fables de la Fontaine. They are a wonderful couple; I felt honoured to meet them.

The next morning — Saturday, two days before we were to leave the apartment and fly home — Susan woke with a high fever. She threw up and shivered uncontrollably. We called SOS Médecins, who sent a doctor to the apartment. He diagnosed an infection, said she should go to a hospital, and called an ambulance.

The ambulance crew arrived spreading multi-part forms, good humour, and calmness. They decided to take Susan to Hôpital Bichat, which I had, of course, never heard of. Kate and I asked whether they could carry us, too, and they carefully explained that they were supposed to take only Susan. But they told us to come along anyway, which is just as well as I had no idea of where Bichat was. We climbed aboard and drove under flashing blue lights through the streets of the 17th and the 18th. I do not recommend this as a way to see Paris. The view is restricted and the trip is expensive.

Susan was assessed in emergency and sent for tests. Kate and I waited a long time and finally decided to go home for an evening meal. The receptionist gave us the name and phone number of the emergency room doctor and suggested we call him for more information. Kate called from the apartment late that evening and spoke with him at length. Yes, an infection. It appeared to be connected with the location of her cancer. They were starting intravenous antibiotics and were admitting her for a few days. We could come and see her the next day.

We visited her twice on Sunday. A nurse dropped by and chatted in English. (She had spent four months in Wisconsin, she told us.) Her name was Félicitée.

That afternoon I did all the things that you have to do when your travel plans are turned on their head. I called Susan’s travel insurance company, our airline, our neighbours in Halifax, Susan’s office, and the cat boarding place. As we were due to leave the apartment the next morning, I also booked a room in a small nearby hotel from Monday night onwards. Kate flew home the next morning.

Stepping off the elevator on the ninth floor of Hôpital Bichat provided a spectacular view of a distant Eifel Tower. Less enchanting was the view from Susan’s room: immediately below was the Périphérique and the Porte de St-Ouen on-ramp; beyond that the northern suburbs stretched away towards Roissy. When I tired of watching the road traffic, I just needed to raise my eyes to follow the aircraft approaching Charles de Gaulle. I felt cold and frightened.

The medical staff were professional and kind. Susan responded to the antibiotics and by Wednesday her doctor thought that she might be able to fly home soon, but with an attendant to administer antibiotics through an IV. The alternative might be another five days in the hospital. I went back to my hotel feeling even bleaker.

But the next morning Félicitée called to tell me I could fetch Susan. She was released with a handful of oral antibiotics and an envelope full of test results, crowned by a note from her Paris doctor in the most spidery handwriting we have ever seen: <i>“Paris, le 17/12/2009, Cher confrère, je vous adresse Madame Susan …”</i> it began; a page and half summarized her treatment at Bichat. We spent a very long half hour dealing with the billing people, where we promised to pay the €7500 hospital bill should Susan’s insurance company ultimately balk. Even so, they seemed uncomfortable with our leaving. Bichat was starting to feel like the Hotel California.

It was snowing when we walked out the front door. As we approached the gates leading out onto the street, Susan said, “Whatever you do, don’t look back.”

That night I left Susan in the hotel room and walked over to rue de Rome. I looked down into the railway cutting and watched the trains gliding in and out of St-Lazare. Paris had turned on us, I thought, and remembered Jacques Brel’s <i>Les Prénoms de Paris:

… la fin du voyage
La fin de la chanson
Et c'est Paris tout gris
Dernier jour, dernière heure
Première larme aussi</i>

It certainly was the end of the journey, but those weren’t the first tears.

We flew back to Canada two days later.

<b>February, 2011 — Batignolles</b>

Kate and I went back to Batignolles. We came up out of the metro at Place de Clichy, recognizing instantly the corner café where we used to sit over glasses of vin chaud while Susan rested in the apartment. We walked down the side streets to rue Truffaut, passing the corner where we had helped Susan into the ambulance. Then we looked at the apartment building. It is behind scaffolding now, with some of the windows boarded up. Susan talked to me in that apartment; she spoke to me about her fears, her regrets, her loss. The facade is scorched; there cannot be much left inside.

We walked over to rue des Batignolles, past the hotel where I stayed while Susan was at Bichat, then down the street to Square de Batignolles. It is still a prefect park. We looked into the railway cutting and waited until a train went by. We walked up rue Legendre, past the last store that Susan went into — A La Mère de Famille — to buy Christmas presents for family back home. We walked along rue de Lévy, looking at the street corner where Kate had burst into tears. We passed the Comptoirs Richard store, where Susan had bought Grains de Zinc, her preferred coffee when in Paris.

Back at the café at Place de Clichy, Kate and I ate lunch and remembered. The good memories outweigh the bad. Susan’s Paris is still there, vibrant, intense, and sensual. It is still a city for lovers. Susan is still there, too, in memory.

I have a few more photos. This gallery has a picture of Susan in the apartment on rue Truffaut, one of the exterior of the apartment building as it is today, and three more from around Batignolles.

http://anselmadorne.zenfolio.com/p559514320

Thank you.

What a lovely report. I don't know when I have felt so much in Paris reading a report. Thank you.

Anselm, your posts so beautifully honor Susan, her Peris, and the Paris you enjoyed together. There are a few wet eyes on this side of America too.

Stu & Ellen Dudley

You write beautifully. I'm very sorry for your loss.