After sleeping in (due to jet lag and Mom's cold), we spent the afternoon walking around a medieval garden, the huge public garden Jardin du Luxembourg, and a swanky department store. Six miles of walking: tomorrow we must find a tabbaconist where we can buy tickets for the Metro! (Our US credit cards don't work in the ticket machines.)

Walking has its merits, though. We passed at least five upscale chocolatiers. The photo is one that was open—and packed—at 10pm! The shoe is made of chocolate and filled with macarons (a type of cookie).

Many people on the street, in restaurants, and in sidewalk cafés in this area. Who are all these Parisians that can be out on a Wednesday night? Perhaps they don't have to be at work tomorrow because of the holiday (Feast of the Assumption). Or maybe I'm just used to the non-urban, Midwest life. (To be fair, there were some tourists in the bunch.)

Bad news: the Picasso museum is closed. I seem destined to never see it.

Great news: my bag arrived overnight. Good thing, as Paris is largely un-air conditioned. Mom and I left a museum today because it was too hot. They were running dehumidifiers throughout; it must have been at least 80 degrees inside.

We are safely in Paris, though my bag is not. I suspect it was lost on the final flight, as about 12 of us didn't get our bags. (Well, one person's bag arrived but was smashed up, which makes me nervous.) The airline has no idea where the bag is, so I don't have any idea when it might arrive (if ever).

If it doesn't appear overnight, I will have to try to buy some stuff in Paris. Not looking forward to that experience, though I've spent hours researching where I might possibly find clothing that fits and looks presentable and doesn't make me itch. Including underwear.

Mom still has a head cold, so we tried our luck at a pharmacy. She is well-stocked, now. And we found a dry cleaner for her (Istanbul was h-o-t) and persisted with the woman who refused to serve us because we didn't speak French. A charming young woman finally emerged from the back and took our order happily. The bad French reputation is still deserved.

But it wasn't all dull chores. While Mom napped, I walked around Notre Dame with the hordes of tourists. The queue to enter was unbelievably long.

We have a front-corner hotel room which means noise—but a fun view.