If I were Napolean Dynamite on holiday in Paris, I would collect all the tiny Napolean souvenirs I could find and eat only fancy Napolean gateaux. "What are you going to do today, Napolean?" ... "Whatever I feel like I wanna do, gosh!"
The loveydoveytourists who come to Paris are covering the bridges with "love locks". In 500 years after all the bridges have all fallen into the Seine, I imagine the anthropologist robots, made of recycled love locks, will take hologram selfies while contemplating le nouvel existentialisme.
The French ladies like their fancy shoes. High heels and strappy ankle accoutrements. They make it look easy, even on cobblestone.
Paris can be fancy and sophisticated without being expensive. This red-checkered paper place setting is simple and lovely.
After dark the Eiffel Tower sparkles like a twinkly star every hour on the hour. A magical moment to take in with a romantic interest. Less magical with a herd of retired American tourists but champagne helps overcome the awkward bits.
I felt obliged to introduce my niece to the tasty wonderments of the French boulangerie scene. Our daily regime consisted of happy cakes and magic bread. Fortunately when the rest of Paris is on holiday in August, the boulangers stay behind to mind the shops and make the magic. Tasty, tasty magic.
I introduced my niece to the coffee routine in Paris (in contrast to her Starbucks gold card iPhone app routine in Seattle). My radar remains sharp: a choice spot in the shade with a good opportunity to eavesdrop on locals.
I popped over to Paris with my teenage niece to show her the highlights. We waited in line with the rest of humanity to check out Old Timey Notre Dame. Tourist trap extraordinaire. Selfie sticks galore. Amazing gargoyle action.