The second phase of our honeymoon year is coming to a close this weekend, and with the temperatures dropping, we're becoming adept at getting around Paris on the Metro. To avoid any discussion of grumpiness, I made sure to bundle up and walk to our corner patisserie so we could both get our morning fix of caffeine and croissants. We decided, since an old friend of John's postponed meeting (or so we thought...), we decided to finally get to the Marie Rose Cafe. You'll find more about the story behind that cafe from our summer honeymoon.  Alas, after we got out of the subway and walked to the restaurant, we discovered that it was closed - AGAIN. Instead of being disappointed, I told John that we're not meant to actually eat in that establishment. The reason we know the cafe exists is because of our mothers. They don't want us to enter it, but I think they wanted to show us a part of the city that we'd never frequent and maybe, this is the neighborhood we're meant to take more of an interest in the future. As we finished our lunch, John got a text from his old friend saying he was on his way! It seems that my husband read the initial text incorrect and his friend John didn't postpone our meet - up after all. We hopped on the the train and were on our way. The underground mall we met in is a sight to behold . You'd never know from walking the streets of Paris that there is a whole bustling world of shops, restaurants and movie theaters under your feet.

We didn't have to wait too long for the two old friends to meet. After thirty years, the newest John I met told me that John is still as ditzy as ever. I'm not afraid to say that I agreed. Once again, as I've learned on trips like this or my friendships in general, no matter how much time has passed, really great friends just pick up where they left off.

Later, John and his partner introduced us to an incredible chocolate shop and distinctly told us how French and Belgium chocolates are NOT the same. Don't confuse the two and don't buy Belgian in France. My friend Serge would probably agree, especially after I sent him a picture of a Belgian waffle shop in Paris. That just isn't right on so many levels. As the temperatures continued to drop, we parted ways and John and I took a quick trip to look at the Wall of Love, and then had another incredible dinner at L'isotto where we had stopped in a week ago just for a glass of wine. Having dinner there, of course, did not disappoint.

Today, it seemed even colder as we searched the city for our elusive French knives and an incredible pair of shoes we saw earlier in the week in my size. Alas, we found neither, but we did stumble into the most charming independent Italian shop in Montparnasse. We left with two bottles of Limoncello and two flavored jars of sugar. My baked goods will thank me. This evening, we met up with John and his partner for a quick drink before their night out (after they reminded John that we would meet TONIGHT just so there was no confusion this time). We got more information on how we can make living here without being residents work in the future. Surprisingly, it's not as difficult as it seems.

As the night got even colder, we checked out an Indian restaurant close to our hotel and then made our way for wine and dessert at the Mexican restaurant we found on New Year's Eve. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the warmth of the restaurant or it being a Paris winter evening, but everything combined for one of those perfect night endings. This year will be four years since John and I met and if you had told either of us that we would be experiencing a night like this then, well - I bet we'd believe you. That surprises me as much as it probably does you. But there was always something different after John got out of his Uber. There was never really a question of what would happen as we made all those trips back and forth until I moved from Los Angeles. He never seems to tire of my adventure tales and the stories of how we both got to this junction in life are as different as Paris and San Antonio and Los Angeles. But the thread that connects them - as corny as it sounds - is love. What could be better than that realization in a city that exudes it on every step you take in it.