I guarantee that of all the places you expected me to write from in my first post from Paris, McDonald's was not one of them. Travel lesson # 6973: when booking your charming little inexpensive boutique hotel, ask if they have wifi. Because if they don't, you might end up at the Macdo across the street. And while you're there, you just might buy a filet o' fish and some fries. In Paris! Yes. It's true.

It's been a rocky day, as, it seems, the first day always is. Being woozy with jet-lag and getting drenched in a downpour in beautiful downtown Paris added to the general joy. All will be well, no question. All is already well. There are these little tests, that's all.

Once I had navigated the metro from the airport into the city - and the French transportation system did just about everything in its power to make that trip as complicated and difficult as possible - I got out at the familiar Port Royal stop and began a familiar walk. One of the reasons I chose this hotel is because it's so close to where I lived last year. I began to walk down the familiar Boulevard Port Royal, where it was market day - and I immediately came face to face with cheese, counter after counter of fresh cheese. Ah, now I remember why I'm here!

This internet site has just downloaded every email and every bit of junk mail I got in March - hundreds. I have to go. More anon, never again from here.