The first leg of my journey, the 8-hour trip to Paris, was relatively uneventful. I sat next to a beautiful French woman who reminded me of Juliet Binoche and who managed to remain pulled together throughout the flight, despite the cramped quarters, never looking the worse for wear. It's definitely in their genes. And so, I'm in Paris, now, sort of, sitting at the Charles De Gaulle airport, bleary from the flight and sipping the most amazing cafe au lait. In Paris, even their airport coffee puts our best to shame. The steam from the frothed milk brings me back to life. That plus three small, beautiful doughnut holes filled with different kinds of creme: chocolate, mango and lemon. I sat for a moment, enjoying the cafe, and reflecting on the bagged purchase that lay at
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