I hope everyone had a Happy 4th. We tried our damnedest to try not to be heartbroken and nostalgic, especially after the blast we had last year. To sum it up: Maine, sunshine, parade, lobster rolls, beach, ocean, backyard BBQ, booze, watermelon and back to the beach for fireworks. Anything else you do after that pales in comparison when it comes to pure Americana.
Still. Making the most of it here. River I am crying slowly drying up.
It was a lovely day in here in Paris. Bright and sunny, and while I was out getting summer-sweet peaches at the market, violent sideways rain hail thunder. The usual hijinks.
Consulting with other expats, we decided the best course of action would be to hit the Cantine California food truck.
We ordered a few plates of tacos to share. Oh, yum. I had forgotten how good food from a grill was, and the Mexican flavors are almost alien at this point. It hit the spot.
We were about to order burgers, when horror of all horrors, they were fresh out as they had a busier like-minded expat crowd than usual. Fainting couches were needed.
Action was taken: We must find the Le Camion qui Fume! We will hit the two food trucks in existence in Paris in one night. Had it been done before?
But first, a walk across the Tuileries revealed much had changed since the last time I had been there.
We became distracted by amusements.
We found the Smoking Truck, parked in a lot off the Quai near D'Orsay Museum. They set up outside a stationary party ship and serve a pared-down menu to people drinking on the ship. Brilliant! We actually boarded the club ship, and after not finding topside tables, we found an empty dance floor with portholes where we could sit and enjoy our needed dose of Americana. Occasionally a boat would pass and the wake would splash over the portholes, making the whole thing a bit surreal.
Oh, Paris! How well you lend yourself to homesick expats.