“Luxury travel is a crime against authenticity. And worse: it’s a waste of time.”

“Frugality on the road enhances the quality of the experience of a foreign place.”

“Yes, James and I are tourists. But not that kind of tourists. We are post-modern tourists. In Paris, that means that we are flâneurs. 

Flâneurs, nounce, French: one who has perfected the art of nonchalance.

Flâneurs are found in abundance in Paris, lolling in its scenic cafes and strolling aimlessly along its beautiful boulevards. They are those happy few who can make doing nothing look like an honorable activity. That’s what James and I want to do in Paris: leave teh ancient monuments alone, stay far away from the famous museums, avoid crowds, try our best to blend in with world champion flâneurs.”

“The French famously have no word for home. And why should they? When they have boulangeries?

The smell of baking bread is the very essence of hominess. And when the boulanger keeps his stoves fired all day long, there’s always a glowing hearth to warm you, even on a summer day.

…

If that’s not home, then it’s heaven.”

“I can barely stand it – such ripe aromas – but James, who has a keener sense of smell than I, tells me that it is the good, deep scent of terroir.”