If I had my way
I’d just walk through those doors
And wander
Down the Champs Élysées
Goin cafe to cabaret

…and a wonderful walk it is going up that beautiful boulevard toward a monument commissioned by the Emperor Napoleon. Near Concorde that wide thoroughfare is flanked by trees and gardens which eventually give way to ever more expensive and posh shopsM cafes and restaurants. Tourists of all stripes prowl those area, I spotted a group of dark and handsome young men clad in expensive leather motorcycle outfits sipping coffee and staring at the beautiful women who seemed to be everywhere. On the table among their cups and spoons was a shiny motorcycle helmet with a sticker on it that read “I love Dubai”. Waiters in long white aprons were shuttling in and out of restaurants ferrying food and drink to customers who were sitting in little street side dining areas, all comfortably heated against the autumn weather.

As I walked I just soaked it all in. It was as though I was not really there but rather watching it all unfold from afar, as if my body was a remotely controlled observation platform gathering information and images. I just floated up the avenue.

Now and then my vision would flip from color to black and white and I could see ranks and files of German soldiers goose stepping up toward the Arc de Triomphe as Parisians wept in shame and rage. I understood what an enormous “fuck you” that military parade was; a personal insult from on entire nation to another. That was was about settling some old,old,old, scores and they got settled alright, yeah it all got settled once and for all… Big time. All it took for me gain a deeper understanding of the war, was one stroll up that famous street.

Got to the Arc de Triomphe and learned that to get to it alive, you have to take an underground tunnel. The traffic is constant and merciless. At the end of the tunnel is a ticket office so you can go to the top and check out the view. There are also many signs warning of pickpockets. I got my ticket and went up to the surface. There is a tomb there Under the Arc, for an unknown soldier killed in World War I. It has an eternal flame and everything.

To get to the top of the arc you have to take a spiral staircase, and to get to the staircase you have to open your bag for inspection, and all the while be vigilant for those freaking pickpockets. That spiral staircase has 194 steps. You better be in shape if you want to see the view. There is a small museum, not unlike the museum at the Statue of Liberty ( another product of France BTW) through the museum and up some stairs and you are treated to a fantastic view if Paris. From that vantage point you ca see that the city is circular and built low to the ground, in the distance, away from the center of the city is a collection of very modern high rise buildings, but Paris proper is maintained as is was at leas since the war, and in many cases long before.

After enjoying the view and taking the obligatory selfie, I went back down, 194 steps, to Champs Élysées and found a place to buy some toothpaste. It was called simply, Public Drugstore. It was a modern looking edifice, sheathed in tinted glass. I opted for something called Marvis Jasmine Mint. It was quite a store. I could have purchased caviar, champagne, good vodka and some macaroons if I’f had a mind to. Coming out of the drugstore I suddenly felt the need to sit. A nearby bench did nicely and I leaned back, crossed my legs and just enjoyed the day. Suddenly a swarthy young man walks up to me, he is much closer than the normal Parisian who tends to keep a respectful distance, I tensed as he bent forward and picked up what looked like a thick gold ring, he glanced at me and at the ring in a gesture that said “is this yours?” Then, still kneeling on the ground in front of me he pointed to in inscription on the ring as though he wanted me to read it. My spider sense went off. It smelled like a setup, I had this feeling that I was about to have an unpleasant moment. So I grabbed my stuff, got up and walked away quickly. After a little bit I looked back and my swarthy ringbearer had been joined by his accomplice, they were talking together then they looked toward me. I carried on. freaking pickpockets!