Andrea Mulder-Slater

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Geoff and I were in Paris. It was getting late and we were hungry so we decided to venture one street over from our hotel to the Champs - Élysées because someone told us that the Champs - Élysées is where everything happens in Paris. Also, it is the street where vacationing pedestrians provide motorists with comic relief. I've heard. It was early November – slightly cool but mild enough for lightweight jackets. Still, we walked quickly so as not to catch a chill. The street was busy and in spite of the late hour, there were people all over the place and every shop and restaurant was open. As we walked along the sidewalk, we came upon a particularly large crowd. Because I am paranoid cautious, my first instinct was to run as thoughts of murders, robberies and rumbles (yes, rumbles) entered my brain.  The Champs - Élysées - but not on that night because on that night we had no camera. Or common sense. Geoff explained to me that ...

by Andrea Mulder-Slater It was the first time Geoff and I had ever stayed in such luxurious surroundings. Ornate furnishings, a marble sink and endless lengths of cascading fabric filled our Paris hotel suite. Of particular note were the plush velvet curtains that reached clear up to the 14-foot ceilings. After our first full day of sightseeing, we were eager to get some sleep. We tucked ourselves under the blankets and turned off the bedside lamps only to find the room still flooded with light. We must have missed a switch, I thought while getting up to find it. Then I realized… the light was coming from outside our room. As it turned out, we were positioned at the precise location of the hotel sign, which was awash with intense, white light. It was so bright; we could have performed open-heart surgery (had we the tools, knowledge or patient). “It is the city of lights,” Geoff joked. I was not amused. Because he knows me well, Geoff pro...