Bon Apetit

On the other corner to where the buskers were, was a restaurant and since it seemed to be pretty quiet, we decided to eat there. No guesses about what Greg wanted to eat-Steak tartare. I almost couldn't get him to let me take a photo, as a photo would have dug into valuable eating time. The waiter was very impressed to see that Greg was not a typical tourist and that Greg obviously knew how to eat this Steak.

I was very pleased with my Salad Nicoise, and my Bordeaux. Jordy was equally pleased with her meal and her Merlot. We made it clear that we hadn't travelled all this way to Paris so she could drink lemonade etc...

We did a tiny bit of a family roam looking for dessert, crepes of course. Then we got lost, walked completely the wrong direction back to the train station, ended up taking a taxi and arrived with barely enough time to board the train. Whereupon I promptly burst into tears, thoroughly perplexing my husband because we'd made it, why was I crying? Tears are a perfect release of stress.

But the fun didn't end there. On our return to Brussels, we got lost again. Greg was getting more and more frustrated because he recognized all the landmarks, and we should be practically standing next to our hostel. After an hour of walking around in circles, we crossed the street and arrrgh, there was our hostel.

Greg thought that this experience should have set off another set of tears or at least a bout of grumpiness. But I think we used up our quota in France. And besides, considering that this was the first time we'd gotten lost in all our travels, we'd done good. Plus at 1.30am, who has the energy?