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Parisians - a class of their own - spoiled the place for me. ...
Better than I expected from cliché. Two scenes stand out from my first trip to Paris, a weekend in mid-December 1988 with my girl friend:
1. There was a little fair in the Garden of Tuilleries (sp?), and there was a merry-go-round with wooden horses. Since my g/f was a passionate rider, we had to take that ride. Now, it was mid-December, cold, drizzling rain - and we were absolutely the only visitors at the time, so the owner let us go round and round and round and round for like 20 minutes. That was the most romantic moment I remember from that short-live relationship, and I'll thank this particular Parisian forever for it.
2. At a restaurant, we checked out the deserts, but with my French being sadly very basic, and hers worse, we couldn't figure out what one ingredient of many deserts was; so finally I took heart, waived the waiter to us, and asked: "
Excusez-moi, garcon, qu'est-que c'est - chantilly?" - and then other guests from various tables around turned to us and said in German, and in unison: "
Sahne!" (cream). (You have to understand that the French in general, and Parisians in particular, are commonly said to not employ a foreign language, especially German, even if they can speak it, and will stick to French at all costs)