We ended our last day by eating a sandwich in a park near the Arc de Triomphe. The sandwich was from a near by bakery in our hotel area that we had passed many times on our days there. The bread was soft and the meat and cheese were fresh. I spread topanade on mine that added another rich flavor and our dessert was surgared, dried strawberries. As we ate, a father walked with his daughter in his arms. He softly sang a song to her while she took tiny bites from a large sandwich. I wondered what could be possibly be singing about? Was he singing to help along his daughter's digestive system? Who knows. It was a poignant moment. That was the last memory I have of Paris-- it's people.
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