John M. Edwards thinks the most exotic experience Americans have in Paris these days is ordering macaroons in a Piere Hermé boutique. But John remembers a time in the 1990s when, between girlfriends and apartments, Paris still rhymed with bewildering encounters and doomed relationships.

…As I turned to walk up rue Saint Merri in the Beaubourg Quarter of Paris I was surprised to see that the entire wall of a 5-story building was covered with the image of a face of a man with a finger to its lips. The man was calling for quiet. He had Dali eyes.

In which an English family—a self-described “short, fat, dumpy little old lady,” her pianist husband, and their three sons (the voice of reason, the voice of enterprise and the voice of autism)—move into a once-prestigious [...]

In this prequel to a bar, restaurant and hotel review, the author encounters an Italian, three Kazakhstanis and an impatient French woman, all because the route to Shangri-La is paved with good intentions.

Three years into globetrotting with her husband, Judy Kashoff stops to imagine their post-wandering lives in this beautiful dreamscape of village life of southern Europe.

I was worken by the rain at 6:30 a.m.. Except that it wasn’t the raind; it was water drizzling into the room from the ceiling. In a moment of verteran-like panic I had a flashback to one year ago when…

Travel writing can be solitary work, but a travel writer with a cat needs friends. I used to leave my cat Moumoon with Isabelle, but whenever I returned to Paris her daughter would cry that [...]

One day you’re walking down your street on your way home, taking in a view that you’ve seen a thousand, no, ten thousand times, when a disturbing thing happens: there among the ever-so-familiar surroundings of [...]