Monday, Monday

Our last day as a group. Mary and Wayne decided to hold hands and explore Paris on their own.  I'm glad they found that "Paris is for lovers" is not just a cliche. The rest of us headed to Montmartre.  Before reaching Sacre Couer there were more scarf purchases, as well as postcards, magnets and the other assorted souvenirs one must bring home and dust regularly. 

After the church we headed to--of course--Place du Tartes so the artists could tempt the tourists with quickly-rendered scenes of various monuments.  Though frequent visitors tend to turn their nose up at the commercialism of the Place, I think it's time we all  agreed that some are actually quite good and few of us can afford to buy from the studios on rue Josephine anyway.

Lunch at Le Cremillerie, an authentic Belle Epoque bistro from 1900 with a beautiful interior and decent food, and we were on our way down the hill to Pigalle for pictures of the Moulin Rouge. ("that's it?  Yup, that's it") and a discreet peek in the windows of the sex shops.   Oh, stop. You know you would have looked, too!

We then headed to the posher end of town, Place Vendome. Home of the Ritz, last stop for Princess Diana, and which will close at the end of the month for two years of renovations. 

A detour:  Gene was unable to get cash from the ATM.  We returned to the hotel and I  checked our account on my iPad.  Turns out we'd been cleaned out.   Wayne had also been taken for $300.  How did this happen?  Had to be a scanner set up at an ATM machine the guys used in Venice.  Several calls to our bank and the fraud department and, because we had told them we were taking our cards overseas, they agreed to reimburse our account within twenty-four hours.  However, before that could happen, we had to pay cash to the person who was leasing the apartment we were moving to the next day.  

Olivier, who shall be herewith called "Le French poop" wouldn't let us move in without it, even though our deposit covered the first night.  Seemed it would entail his meeting us to provide access and returning the following day for payment.  He lived twenty minutes from the apartment and didn't want to make two trips.  Let me note here that he does not have a job to work around. Leasing his apartments all over Paris is his full-time business.  So we spent another night in the hotel and paid for that night at both places.  Footnote:  it is now two days later and the bank hasn't reimbursed us, but our fabulous daughter floated us a loan.   I guess that this being the first incident of its kind in over  twenty years of overseas travel makes us lucky. 

Tip of the day:  of course you will tell your bank you are going to be away-and where-before leaving town, even if traveling within your own country.  But make sure you provide a good means of contacting you if necessary.  The bank flagged the card after the money was removed (from machines in Washington, D.C.) but left a message on our home phone, which was useless. Wayne, on the other hand, had provided an email address so they were aware as soon as they checked in with their mail. 

Our wonderful "Jersey" reunion was now coming to an end.  We gathered for a last dinner and drinks and said our good-byes.  The group would be leaving for the airport early the next morning and Gene and I would remain in Paris.

For those of you contemplating an adventure with old friends, let me assure you that it  can work.  It takes a little space, a lot of compromise and complete honesty about your expectations and your specific needs.  But, mostly (in my opinion), it just takes genuinely caring about each other and a great sense of fun and adventure. 

We're already strategizing about next year's trip. I think that says it all, don't you?