Here I am in Paris. This was supposed to be a 60th Birthday trip. That's next year . . . but here I am a few weeks before my 59th birthday, posing in front of the Eiffel Tower with the tune of "I LOVE PARIS" happily playing and re-playing in my head.

What is it, I ask myself. What about Paris do I love? I can't answer the question in a sentence, a paragraph, a page or maybe even in a book. I don't know if I can answer it at all. It's the unfamiliar and the familiar all at the same time. From the moment I arrive, I'm acutely awaer that my senses are flooded with the most delicious images, tastes and smells imaginable.