I am searched before being allowed into the Hotel de Ville to meet city officials. Paris has been under siege by terrorists. Life goes on in the city of lights. Paris is awash with autumn color. People are still walking along the Champs leys es.
Cafes are busy.
There might be fewer tourists, but foreigners, like the Japanese girl with crooked teeth, still scan the sights from atop the Arc de Triomphe. On a personal note, I lament the girl who got away. After reviewing some of the Paris that Hemingway knew, Melawend and I leave and find a campsite on the banks of the placid Loire River. A muscled old man crouches beside me on the shore and carries on a monologue in French. He pats me on the back and leaves.