The howling Boetians

by jemma margaret

Among the Paris travel supplies my father brought is an Access Paris guide from 1990. As one might imagine, it is interesting primarily as a historical document.

That said, I was leafing through it on the car ride up, and found a post-it note from my mother recommending a nearby zinc bar as having great confit de canard.

We have been spending a lot of time on the internet deciding where to eat. Every restaurant suggestion must be checked against reviews on trip advisor, yelp, and so on. Positive write-ups in popular blogs or magazines might mean an influx of tourists or a resting on laurels. The inside scoop is very out. One wonders whether the really best places aren’t reviewed at all, so to keep their goodness intact.

Thus last night we went ahead with the post-it note’s suggestion, and dinner was very nice–as good as any of our internet leads.

Thanks to the online mob I was well-informed and excited to try the terrifying Turkish style toilet. It felt like being in a set for an eighties sci-fi film. Plus, I didn’t have to be the weirdo photographing the urinal…merci à l’internet!

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