Un summer-like return to Paris in August

If you arrived at CDG Airport this morning, you would have witnessed unprecedented lines snaking from arrival gates to the immigration checkpoints. I've never seen lines this long in France. Once upon a time, I remember seeing similar lines for foreigners at JFK, but that was before Homeland Security managed to scare any willing tourists off to more distant lands. But NEVER in France, where the border police desultorily glance at passports as arrivals slip through.

I thought I had timed my return before 'la grande rentree' but hadn't counted on this year's culprit- the bad weather. August, and most of July, has been so un-estivale, that vacationers have literally thrown in the towel, or left it on the beach if they even made it that far, to come home early.

Fortunately, my brand new hip enables me to order a wheelchair, bypassing the thick crowd of grumbling impatient travelers not moving forward in the line, directly to my waiting (!)luggage and empty taxi stand. I warn the taxi manager to start lining up the taxis for the inevitable crunch that is about to hit, as nothing irritates me more than seeing mash-up of taxis sitting in a holding pit below while we wait for their far too leisurely emergence from taxi purgatory.

It's 65 degrees, overcast, and drizzly and I see alot of glum faces heading back to the capital.

This being France, the inclement weather has had its impact on the eternal discussion - gastronomy. Reports state that the bad weather has ice cream and soft drink vendors complaining about the lack of commerce. Tourists have traded their usual desire for salads and frosty drinks for comfort food-warming soups and legumes, finished off with copious helpings of chocolate, whose sales have surged-no doubt to help depressed vacationers up their dopamine levels from the dismaying weather.

At least, there's still a few weeks left of Paris Plage....although someone should tell the weatherman, because today looks like another drizzler.