At last! La fin of our fabulous French idyll.

When last we talked, I had left the Italian piano player to pack for our departure from Lyon.

The following morning, I said adieu to Leigh Ann at the crack of early and she flew safely home to Dallas. I wished she had been able to party on with us to Paris, but alas, business beckoned, and I had to journey on seule, except for my deux amis, Adam and Corey.

Together we boarded the train for Gay Paree. Ahem.

It was raining when we arrived, it was raining when we left, it rained tout le temps. So damp, but unperturbed, we began our adventure.

The first order of business was lunch at a busy little bistro Corey found that we walked to, not far from our hotel which was very modern and perched precariously close to the freeway on the edge of town. Our forays in to eat or shop or anything else had to be planned and required multiple Ubers, no casual meandering down cobblestone streets. That happened, but only after we got away from the hotel.

That first evening, we met in the lounge, high above the city, with a view of the Eiffel Tower, our first. Then we made our way to the Seine, where we embarked on a dinner cruise, enjoyed a three-course meal, were serenaded by violin and piano, and saw the Eiffel Tower up close and personal in all its glittery glory, as it sparkles with a light show for five minutes before every hour. It’s quite spectacular.

The next day, we took advantage of the Viking tour of the city via bus. The group was small and we enjoyed the lively narration of our guide while we saw the Arc de Triomphe and the crazy traffic circle around it. You could be lost in there for days. Remember European Vacation? Look kids, Big Ben!

We disembarked the bus at Notre Dame Cathedral, under repairs following an electrical fire. It’s still beautiful and historic, and we had time to really take it all in. It was there that we saw several teenaged girls being led away by gendarmes, apparently having been caught pick-pocketing, a big problem there. Fair warning. Beware of girls with clipboards, who will surround you, under the auspices of a survey, and have their way with your backpacks and purses.

We also stopped for pictures at the Eiffel Tower. Honestly, it’s such a fascinating and majestic structure, I couldn’t get enough. Look kids, the Eiffel Tower!

Corey found another quaint bistro for lunch and Adam ordered beef tartare. He’s an adventurous eater and also ordered liver one night and then was compelled to get boeuf bourguignon another. Corey and I were less so, but still had gastronomic delights galore.

That afternoon the boys indulged my request to see The Louvre. The crowds are impossible and it took over an hour to get across town. So, short on time, we went in through the back door and down into the gift shop area. The guard didn’t mind. I wanted a scarf from the Louvre and some souvenirs for my grands. I was on a mission. An hour later, scarf and trinkets in hand, we were heading up into the sun which had decided to come out on that one glorious day.

That night was our piece de resistance! The Moulin Rouge! But first we ascended to the Basilica de Sacre Coeur, at the top of a steep hill in an area of Paris called Montmartre. It is absolutely magnificent and worth the climb up several staircases. Inside candles flickered in remembrance and the voices of the choir filled the dome. In spite of the crush of tourists, it was a solemn, spiritual moment I won’t soon forget.

Then as our pendulum swung from the sacred to the secular, we headed to The Moulin Rouge, not far away. What an evening. We were ushered into the theatre/dining room. Every surface is draped in ruby red, accented in gold, and yet remains somehow elegant. The service was impeccable, starting with champagne, followed by a three-course dinner and wine. Then came the show.

Very talented men and women sang and danced in lavish costumes, with beautiful sets and covered so many eras and musical styles from the 40s through the 60s, and beyond, plus a circus-themed number and several others. The only thing not covered were parts of the women. I expected this and the audience seemed to also as there were no bawdy catcalls or lewd carrying-on. This crowd was a sophisticated bunch who had paid a lot of money to see a great show, in spite of the fact that much of the costumes were AWOL.

Anyway, we loved it, and I highly recommend it. Just leave your sensibilities about such things at the door.

Our last full day in Paris dawned rainy and cold. Undeterred, we bundled up and Ubered to the George Cinq, a restaurant on Adam’s bucket list, on the Champs Elysees, where we enjoyed a light breakfast, then went down the street to a jewelry store, sequestered in an alleyway that you practically have to utter a password to gain access to. It was very clandestine, but the jewelry was stellar, and Corey fulfilled his bucket list by purchasing a bracelet he’d had his eye on. (Adam had satisfied his jewelry addiction by snagging a brooch at The Louvre. )

After that I Ubered back to the hotel to put on dry socks and left the boys to enjoy an afternoon on their own. They had earned it by squiring me around for days, keeping me from falling down wet steps, and holding umbrellas over my head in the constant mist.

That night we went back up to Montmartre for dinner in a tiny restaurant, barely big enough for the rugby team that sat next to us. It wasn’t on my bucket list, but hey, I’ll take a table full of handsome Frenchmen. The food was also delicious and we loved our server.

The next morning, we put our bags out early so they could be spirited onto the bus that took us to the airport for our flight home. That night I was back in my own bed, dreaming of all the wonderful sights and sounds of France, having discussed with Adam and Corey what our next adventure might be.

We’re thinking Egypt.