Amazing things keep happening.
When Dave was in the neighborhood doing laundry the other day, he spotted an attractive, old restaurant, that had a signed photo of Woody Allen in the window.
We went there for dinner, and, of course, this restaurant was in the movie we saw this afternoon.
By the way, the Polidor was fabulous - successfully feeding Parisians since 1845, they also fed us thoroughly and deliciously.
Also, the Polidor's menu solved a mystery from the night before, when I ordered the evening's specialty, and could not manage more than a couple of bites. What I thought was andouille sausage (in all fairness, the waiter DID ask 'do know what it is?') was, in reality, sausage filled with tripe (and covered with a grainy mustard sauce), that probably evoked tender memories in all French folks. For me, not so much.
We walked that meal off, with a big circle thru the neighborhoods surrounding the Pantheon, with the distant Eiffle Tower anchoring the sunset, and a crescent moon hovering above the Odeon as we turned into our street, entered the hotel, and are now preparing for bed and an early departure for the airport.
A final Paris evening.
Home, in our own bed, with our own two cats, tomorrow night.
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