Over the hills, under the moon - and off the beaten path

The other day I walked the streets of the edgy, regenerated Villette area of Paris, and here, on one of its busy streets, I stumbled upon what seemed like a portal opening into another time. Entering through an unassuming gate, and going down a narrow,  semi-private alley, I was transported from the frenetic present into a hidden,  quiet garden that turned out to be the garden of the  Saint-Serge de Radonège Russian Orthodox Church.    Photo: SortirAParis Before me unfolded a scene that could have been plucked from a 19th-century Russian novel: Long-bearded orthodox priests wearing flowing black robes and cylindrical kamilávka hats, moved unhurriedly among the flowerbeds, and a group of elderly parishioners sat in the garden, on rickety chairs, chatting in a melodic blend of Russian and  French. The abrupt transition from bustling street to  tranquil sanctuary was so jarring that I half-expected to find my smartphone transfor...

  The other night I was invited to a so-called Full Moon Party in the center of Paris. The host was a guy Rita and I met, when we, a couple of years ago, stayed on his houseboat a bit up the Seine. He arranges these casual parties at the middle of the Pont des Arts and he has done so, come rain or come moonshine, every month for the last many years. As I approached the iconic bridge, now mercifully devoid of its plague of "love locks," I was greeted by a cacophony of excited chatter in a United Nations potpourri of accents.  French people as well as expats from many corners of the globe mingled freely, their laughter and chatter forming a symphony of human connection that was actually quite infectious. As I accepted a glass of wine from a beaming Spanish astrophysics student, I pondered the curious phenomenon before me.  Here we were, a motley crew of strangers, united by nothing more than our shared presence in this city and our willingness to gaze skyward toge...

For a long time, Rita and I have dreamed of finding a romantic, small, affordable Parisian pied-à-terre - and this September I am in Paris, chasing our dream!  As I wander the streets, I see the abundance of real estate agencies dotting many corners. Their windows, plastered with images of quaint apartments seem to beckon passersby with promises of "le rêve parisien." One might assume that in a city teeming with "agents immobiliers," securing a modest little place would be as simple as ordering un pain au chocolat.  In actuality, you have to prepare to have your assumptions challenged and your patience tested! When I approached my first agency, I did it with the optimism of a sugar craving tourist eyeing a Parisian pâtisserie. The window was filled with advertisements, but the door, marked "Ouvert", remained stubbornly locked.  At the second agency, I was greeted by a bored-looking receptionist who informed me that all agents were ...