French Class, Part Deux

"Pull up a chair.  Take a taste,  Come join us.

Life is so endlessly delicious."

~ Ruth Reichl

Yesterday I mentioned that I thought it was crazy that the Parisians were sitting and eating outdoors in this freezing weather. I had one photo that wasn't that good, but today I was a bit more brazen and took photos all over the city of these nuts sitting outside and eating.

Apparently, I don't quite get the whole "cafe" society in Paris. For the record, the cafes are not coffee shops. They all have full kitchens and offer everything from breakfast to the late-night dinner. Most of them also have a full bar and wine.  They are also one place where the smokers can sit and enjoy a little nicotine with their wine.

The Parisian cafe is a social hub. . . social center . . . meeting place. . . . relaxation center. . . place to sit and watch the world go by.  The Parisians like to sit and watch the world go by while enjoying an aperitif, glass of wine, or plate of food, and they like to take their time doing so.  The Parisian cafe offers them the opportunity to do that undisturbed for hours if they want. We walked from the hotel to a market this morning and saw a man and his Welsh Corgi sitting at a table at one cafe.  When we returned to the hotel more than an hour later, the two were still there.  Almost two hours after that, we were in a taxi heading to our flat, drove by the same cafe, and saw the guy and his dog in the same spot.

Truth be told, I like to have a drink or meal on a restaurant patio from time-to-time, and I can understand how relaxing it can be.  That said, though, I like to do it when the weather cooperates.  Seventy degrees is one thing, and forty is quite another.  Oh, well.  Cest la vie.  That's why I'm not Parisian, I guess. We've gone to the cafes, but we've eaten inside where it's warm and our food doesn't freeze before it hits the table.

While I'm on the subject of Parisian cafes, I thought that I'd mention something that the French do that I think is great.  Anyone who has ever worked in a restaurant in the States knows that the wages are pretty bad and that tips are what can bring one's wages up to almost a living wage.  Not so in Europe, and especially France.

French law requires that restaurants and cafes add a 15% service charge to the check (for tax purposes).  You don't normally see this service charge added to the check because, believe it or not, it's included in the price that is on the menu.  Buy an 11.50 euro hamburger, and 1.50 euro are for the waiter.  Of course, you can tip a little extra for very good service, but it's not necessary and definitely not required. And, you have to watch if you do tip because some people are very insulted if you try to tip them.

Case in point:  Our first night in Paris we ate at a small Italian restaurant.  The owner was the waiter and the chef.  The food was good.  The service was great.  The man was very nice and, even though he didn't speak much English and I don't know much French, he stood and talked with us at the end of the dinner.  He didn't charge us for cappuccinos or the little chocolate he gave us.  Mike paid the bill and tried to add a tip.  The man refused the tip telling us, "Non. Non. Non."

Sometimes we Americans can learn something from other countries, I think.

Crazy Paris

                                            Parking on the sidewalk                                                   

"Sane is boring."

~RA Salvatore

A friend asked me why I tagged Paris as crazy on my Facebook page yesterday.  He's been here, so he should know, but I'll be glad to remind him.

I mean no malice towards the old girl when I call her crazy, but anyone who's spent more than five minutes in this beautiful city need only look at the traffic to know that the people behind the wheel  are NUTS.  Do you know about the traffic circle that surrounds the Arc d'Triomphe? There are a dozen streets that emanate from that circle, and cars are entering, exiting, and going round in circles constantly.  Drivers entering the circle from one of the streets have the right-of-way,  and all of the drivers in the circle must yield to them.

"Eet eez craw-zee," said our tour guide Regine as we headed to the Arc. "Zshou en-tair and moost immediately yeeld to a-no-zair car."  Our driver plowed into the circle and cut across a few lanes.  Half-way around, he cut back across the lanes and plowed down Champs Elysees. Horns honked. Lights flashed.  I prayed.

(Side note: If an accident occurs in this traffic circle, both parties are equally responsible, and their insurance companies split the cost 50-50.)

At a traffic light a few minutes later, I looked out the window to see three motorcyclists scurry between our bus and the cars in the next lane so that they could get to the head of the line.

"Zay air not too vorried, air say?" wondered Regine.

While I'm on traffic, let's discuss the parking situation in Paris. Many major streets in Paris have parking in the middle instead of on the sides,  Even more amazing is the fact that there are parking places on sidewalks. (See the photo above.) You take your life in your own hands walking down one of these "walking lots" (my term, not theirs). Of course, it's always fun to watch the guy in the SUV try to park in a spot that would barely fit a Smart car.

                                               Les toilettes

Speaking of sidewalks, itt always throws me a bit off-balance when I see pay toilets there.  While a number of European cities have them (although I've never seen them anywhere else), Paris seems to have them everywhere. I heard someone refer to them as a forest of toilets...nice image.  We saw a guy walk into one today, and while the door was open, all I saw was a big, empty room.  Are the facilities holes in the ground?  I'm not willing to find out.  They're supposedly clean (and self-cleaning!), but I consider them Porta-Potties on steroids.  Imagine what would happen if a crazed driver tried to get a walking/parking lot spot and hit the gas instead of the brake sending his car into the toilette.  Double mon Dieu!

                         A few hearty souls eating outside

Moving on.  It's cold here.  It's FREEZING here.  The high today was somewhere in the 40s, and while the wind wasn't as bad as it was in Normandy, it was still darn cold. Why then, I ask you, were people sitting OUTSIDE at cafes?  I was trying not to be obvious, so I didn't take photos of the masses at a few cafes today, but I did stare.  We ate dinner at a place that had tables in the window and small heating vents near them, and even though it was relatively warm, I kept my coat on.

"Ex-cuze me, Wait-air. My coffees eez cold."

"Of courze eet eez. Zhoo air seeting outzide."

                                         Parisian demonstrators

And what is it with Parisians and striking? I swear it's some sort of national pastime.

"Zhou know," Regine told us, "theez peep-ails dem-ohn-strate all zee time. Zumtimes, eet eez fair one ow-air. Zumtimes, eet eez one day."

The demonstrators or strikers can close down the city or the country at the drop of a hat. Did you hear about the time French farmers dumped six tons of manure in front of McDonald's restaurants in southern France? Or the time they dumped manure on the Champs Elysees and then fllled it with plants, cows, goats, sheep, etc? And then there was the time the farmers dumped milk and manure in front of government offices in Paris. These guys know how to get attention. (Maybe we should do that in front of the congressional offices!)

We were walking down Rue di Montparnasse this afternoon and noticed that there was no traffic in either direction. A block later, we saw a large group of demonstrators heading toward us.  The had signs proclaiming something about dangerous liquids, and someone was pulling a wooden rocking horse behind her, but I have no idea what they were protesting.

About three hours later, we headed out again and came upon the same protestors.  This time, they'd blocked another major street and intersection. They were singing and dancing in the middle of the street, and the cops just stood and watched them. (That's probably a national pastime, too.)

We've been in the Montparnasse district this weekend, but tomorrow we move to our apartment in the Marais. I'm hoping things quiet down a little in that area.  I'm sure I'll let you know.  ;-)

Friday Musings

                                               Clock at the Musee D'Orsay

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

~ From Alice in Wonderland

We arrived back in Paris last night, and after debarking this morning, we took a looooonnnnggg tour of Paris which included a couple of hours at the Musee D'Orsay.  True to form, I fell asleep on the bus and missed half of what the guide had to say.  I couldn't wait to get to the hotel, but it was after 3:30 before we arrived. I was asleep about 15 minutes later.

The good news is that Paris doesn't seem to be quite as cold as Normandy was.  We heard that it snowed up there yesterday, so we're happy we were there with no snow and that we left before it came down.  The high in Paris today was somewhere around 48 or so, and that's heading in the right direction.

A few people have written and asked me what we thought of the river cruise, so I thought I would answer that today, if you don't mind.  Just so you know, we took the AMAWaterways Normandy Cruise.  It was the first Normandy cruise of the season and the first Normandy cruise the company has done in some years.  The ship (Amalegro) is one of their oldest ships, although I wouldn't have known that had they not told us.

Our cabin was about as large as the ones you would find on an ocean cruise ship (170 square feet).  We had a French balcony (85% of the cabins have those), although we couldn't really enjoy it since it was too cold to open the door.  Included in the cabin was a flat-screen TV that had internet included, on-demand current movies, and English-language television.  We also had wi-fi throughout the ship although it was rather slow most of the time, and when we went through locks, it was off.  The ship was spotless, and I think they just renovated the baths and bedding because everything seemed new.

The food was okay. . . nothing great.  We had breakfast and lunch buffets in the dining room and lighter fare in the lounge daily.  They served tea between 3 and 5 every afternoon, and there was complimentary coffee, tea, cappuccino, latte, hot chocolate and cookies in the lounge 24/7.  Dinner was sit-down in the dining room, and it was open seating, which we liked since we were able to sit with different people every evening.  Wine, beer, soft drinks were included with lunch and dinner, but you had to pay if you wanted drinks any other time.

Excursions were all included, and we had choices daily.  For example, we did the American Normandy Beaches tour on Monday. They also offered the Canadian/British beaches tour and a culinary tour to a calvados distillery for those who preferred to do those. The excursions were nice enough, but the bus rides were getting to be too much.  We spent  8+ hours on the bus Monday (At least it was warm!).  By yesterday (Thursday), I was pretty sick of bus rides from the small towns to some other place, so we skipped yesterday's tours and just walked around Conflans.  

By the way, one big positive about the excursions was that we each had a microvox and headphone to wear.  Each guide had a microphone, so we could hear him/her without a problem.  We really liked having those, especially when the wind blew so hard that we would not have been able to hear a guide otherwise. 

The atmosphere on the river boats is a lot more relaxed. There is no formal night where everyone gets dressed in uncomfortable clothes, and the crew doesn't dance on tables during dinner. The crew is always polite and very friendly, but they don't try to sell you anything.  The cruise manager is not always making announcements on the PA, and no one is sticking a camera in your face telling you to "BE HAPPY!!"  That alone was enough to make me happy.

I think the two things that we weren't wild about were the excursions and the dining experiences.  We had a choice in excursions, as I mentioned, but they all included bus rides to places away from our port towns.  When we returned from the excursions (around 12-1), the ship took off for the next town. We'd arrive in the next port at 8 PM and have an excursion the next morning at 9 or so.  That gave us no time to really explore the town unless we skipped the excursion, as we did yesterday.  In addition, that gave us limited time on the excursions (except Normandy) that we did take. For example, we had less than two hours in Honfleur, and that's definitely not enough time to see a place.

This is more me than Mike, but I also felt herded around.  One reason I prefer to make my own reservations and plans is that I don't like being dragged around by guides.  If we want to spend more time at a site or in front of a painting, we like to do that.  Being one of a crowd drives me nuts.

The other thing was that there was one dinner time for everyone, either 7 or 7:30, depending on the day.  Unfortunately, the waiters were not very organized, and even though there were seven or eight waiters to handle the 130 people on board, they could not get things done quickly.  Most nights we waited over an hour between salad and entree, and it was between 10 and 10:30 before we left the dining room. 

Overall, we had a good experience.  Would we do it again? We need to get a few weeks beyond this one to make that decision.  

Honfleur

                                        Honfleur, France

Most of the time, beauty lies

in the simplest of things.

~ Winna Efendi

"Why are we going to this place again?" Mike asked me for the umpteenth time as we boarded the bus for Honfleur. 

"I've wanted to go there for a long time," I replied for the umpteenth time. "It was a favorite of the Impressionists.

"Okay," he muttered, not too excited for the umpteenth time.

I have to tell you that his reticence is due to the fact that he is not a fan of Impressionist painting. Actually I can take or leave a lot of it myself, but I've read so much about Honfleur in the 10 years since I first heard about it that I was set on going on this excursion when the ship offered it.  Vieille Bassin, a U-shaped harbor, is the center of the historic area of Honfleur. Tall, colorful buildings line the streets, and the plain, board and half-timber architecture add to its charm.  Add to that the way the light plays off the water and colors of the town, and one can see why the painters loved it so.

We arrived after a short drive, and like little kids we followed our guide, Alex, around the town for almost an hour.  Anxious to take photos of this village known for its great light, I finally asked Mike if he minded if we skipped the rest of the tour.  By this time, he was taken with the place, too, and we left the group to walk the town by ourselves. He shot video and I took photos, and we stopped in a few shops —mostly to warm up for a minute or two.  

"I'm going to get this scarf," I announced when I saw one that I liked.

"Why are you getting it here?" he asked me.

"Duh. I'm freezing, and I want to wear it," I retorted.  He agreed that since I wanted to wear it, I should get it, but that maybe I'd want to wait until Italy to get another one.  I bought it, and it came in handy yesterday and today when I wore it under the green wool scarf I brought from home.

[Yes, you read that right.  I wore two scarves.  I also wore a camisole, t-shirt, sweatshirt (that we had to buy on the ship), coat, hat and gloves (that we had to buy at the market in Vernon). If I could have fit on two pairs of jeans, I would have done that.  The temperature has hovered in the 30s (It's been the coldest winter/spring in Europe since 1939.), and the wind is brutal.]

We both enjoyed Honfleur and are glad we went.  We would have liked to stay a little more than two hours, but when you're on someone else's time, you do what you have to do.  Besides, by the time we got back to the bus, I was exhausted. We've walked quite a bit, but not as much as we usually do, so I attribute this fatigue to the cold. Neither of us is used to it, and tensing to try to keep warm is taxing on one's body. I fell asleep almost immediately after we got on the bus (as I've done every time we've been on a bus).

I'm really not complaining about the weather. . . Well, okay.  I am complaining a little . . . We're just not used to cold like this.  That said, the cold has worked in our favor in a lot of ways since it kept most tourists away from Normandy and Honfleur. I can't imagine what those places are like in the summer months.

By the way, Mike was glad we finally go to Honfleur. 

"I think it would have been a lot nicer if it would have been 10 degrees warmer, though, " he said to me yesterday.

No lie, Dude.

A Friend is Mugged

MUG: (verb)   to assault or to menace

especially with the intention of robbery

Evil.

You think it's never going to happen to you.  You think that you're safely insulated from it in the bubble of your life.  You think that its ugly tentacles will never touch you, hold you, assault you. And then, suddenly, in a moment, a split second, it is upon you.

If you know me or Mike, you probably remember that we were robbed in Prague about 18 months ago. The incident, that ghost of evil, slapped us in the middle of the night while we slept in our apartment. We lost over $2000 worth of belongings, mostly unimportant little things.  We were lucky.  The robber did nnot confront us or physically harm us.  The damage, however, was emotional. We were lucky enough to recover quickly from the shock and to move on.

Our friends, Bill and Felicia (Names changed), were not — and may not be — so lucky.

We met them Friday evening as we ate our first dinner after boarding the AMALegro river boat for a cruise from Paris to Normandy. From Alabama, they are a friendly couple who love to travel and have taken a number of cruises with AMAWaterways.  Like most of us at the table, they chose this particular cruise because it included excursions to the Normandy Beaches.

We docked in Rouen late on Saturday and had Easter morning free to attend church services, walk around Rouen's Sunday market, or have coffee in a little cafe.  Bill and Felicia attended the 10:30 service at the Protestant church and spent a little time walking through the town.  Like many others, they had a few things with them in a backpack which Bill carried on his shoulders.

They were on their way back to the ship and had just started to cross the street that led to the dock when Bill felt someone grab his backpack. The first yank threw him off-balance, and the second one knocked him down. Bill fell hard, and his right hip collided with the concrete and blacktop street. Somehow, he retained control of his backpack, and the mugger gave up..

Felicia had crossed the street in front of Bill, and she turned in time to see the mugger run off and Bill lying in the middle of the street.  She went back to help Bill get up and saw two policemen on the corner across from them. They ignored her and continued talking to each other.  

"Let's get to the sidewalk," Felicia said. "You don't want to get run over." Hurt, Bill tried to stand with Felicia's help.

"I'm going to faint," Bill whispered to Felicia as he started to black out.  A dead weight, he slid down and carried her with him. They were now both on the ground in the middle of the street. The policemen continued to ignore them, but a few motorists stopped and got out of their cars to help.

"We're so sorry this has happened," they all said.  

Bill came to gradually. "I can't stand."  One of the drivers called the ship, and the cruise manager got a taxi and helped bring Bill back to the ship.  The policemen, still ignoring all of the activity a few yards from them, walked away.

The cruise manager accompanied Bill and Felicia to the hospital later that evening.  The good news is that x-rays didn't show a fracture in his hip.  The bad news is that Bill is still in pain and cannot walk. He's in a wheelchair to help him get around.  I think they are both in shock, and they probably will be for some time.  

"There was nothing in the backpack, really," Bill told me later. "The guy would have been disappointed had he gotten it from me."'

Bill and Felicia have not let this horrible incident ruin their vacation.  They were unable to go to Normandy with the rest of us on Monday, but they have gone off the ship a few times. The cruise manager even pushed Bill around Honfleur yesterday. They're going to spend two days in Paris before heading home to Alabama early Sunday morning.

I know that there are some people who believe that it's not safe to travel because incidents like this one or our Prague robbery can happen, but it can happen anywhere.  Think about the fiery crash that happened on the Strip in Las Vegas a few weeks ago, about the pickpockets in the malls and on the streets of US cities, about break-ins that happen in high-end hotels all over the world.  Evil is out there, and its fingers reach in all directions.  The best thing we can do is be proactive enough to protect ourselves. 

French Lessons: Dogs

″France is the European country that has the most pets” 

~ Unknown

When I started looking into this trip more than 10 months ago, I have to admit that France was not on my radar. We had been here one time about 10 years ago, and I found Parisians less than polite. There were a few who were quite rude when they realized we were American. That didn't sit well with me, and I told Mike a long time ago that I wasn't too interested in returning. When I happened upon the great deal for this cruise last July, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Paris again.  We decided that seeing other regions of the country would be good.

No use going into a big thing about the plans.  I covered that ad infinitum before we left. Suffice to say, though, that I'm glad we (*I*) included France in our plans. In the five days we've been here, I've  learned a number of things I hadn't realized before. Going on the cruise has been good for learning more about European and American history, but I've also observed some things that I didn't see in the three days we were here in 2002.

You've undoubtedly read, as I have, that the French like their dogs. Dogs are everywhere in France. The evening we arrived in Paris, I saw people walking their dogs on city streets at 10 pm. The next morning, we saw dogs of all sizes trotting beside their masters all over.  I saw a few people get off the bus holding smaller dogs, and people in cafes sitting next to their dogs. In Vernon, dogs followed their masters into bakeries and butcher shops. A number of people brought them to Monoprix, a sort of department store. Dogs and their owners were all over the Normandy beaches, and one was quietly walking through the Museum of Debarqument at Juno Beach. Could you imagine that in the States?

Everyone has been quite friendly, especially when I ask if I may pet their dogs.  Of course, the conversation always goes something like this:

Waving at the pooch, I walk up to the owner and say, "May I pet your dog?" Of course, they don't understand me, so I mime petting the dog and add, "Je ne parle pas francais." (I don't speak French.)

They always smile and reply, "Gobble-dy gook. Gobble-dy gook." Since I don't speak French, I have no idea what they're saying, but I figure they're saying it's okay. I bend down and pet the dog.

"Bon jour, Pooky. Bon jour!" The proud owner watches me, smiles more and says, "Gobble-dy gook. Gobble-dy gook." The dog looks at me and thinks, "Zhou gots any food I can haves?"

"Je t'aime le chien," I proclaim to the owner. Since I've just said, "I love you the dog," the owner usually blinks hard and looks a little more than confused. (Note to self: Use the iPad to look up how to say, "I love dogs" as soon as you finish this post.)

"Gobble-dy gook. Gobble-dy gook," they say as they smile broadly and nod their heads.  I figure that, at this point, they understand what I've been trying to say. If there are two of them, they usually look at each other and add, "Gobble-dy gook. Gobble-dy gook."  Mike thinks they're saying, "Crazy American lady."

So, I think I misjudged these people when we were here before. They can't be all bad if they like animals, especially dogs.

Now, if they would just learn to pick up after their dogs (and I'm not talking about toys).

Tomorrow: The story of our friend's mugging. . . .

You say, "Macaroon," & I say, "Macaron."

"Boy! Those French have a different

name for everything."

~ Steve Martin

"We signed up for the macaroon workshop," one of our fellow cruisers said to me at lunch yesterday. "I'd rather do that than walk in this horrible cold."

"Did you have the macaroons at dinner Friday?" her husband, Al, interjected. "They were the best. I love coconut in just about anything, but macaroons are my favorite."  Mike started to agree with Al when I interrupted them.

"These are French macaroons, called macarons (mac-a-rohns). They're all different flavors, and they don't have coconut in them. They're made with egg whites and almond flour.  They're very popular right now.  You see them in all sorts of colors." Everyone looked at me as though I were a little looney. (Ok, so maybe I am, but I do know the difference between macaroons and macarons.)

                                                    Rene and Sophie

Fast forward a few hours, and we arrived at the patisserie workshop of Rene (L) and Sophie (R), Rene is an award-winning French chef who has retired from the active pastry business, but he gives workshops in making bread, chous, and macarons (of course). In boxes on a table in the workshop were several flavors of macarons.  Everyone in the group gathered around the table and looked at the confections.

"I think maybe your wife was right," Al whispered to Mike (thinking I couldn't hear him). "I don't see American macaroons at all."  I sighed audibly.

"Are you okay, Babe?" Mike asked me.  I just nodded and rolled my eyes.

      Moi piping out macarons under Rene's tutelage. 

Rene and Sophie showed us how to make a lemon and a salted caramel filling for the macarons before making the meringue base for the cookie portion of the macaron.  The link to a macaron

 recipe follows, but in short, they made Italian meringue and then added almond powder, icing sugar and powdered food coloring to the meringue. By hand, they folded the mixture together for 5-10 minutes to get the air out of the dough.

Rene filled a pastry bag with the dough and showed us how to make the little cookies. The recipe makes about 120 little discs which translates into 60 cookies.  A few of us had the opportunity to try our hand at forming the discs, which was nice.  I was pleased  that I didn't end up with a long line of dough (Bob), trails of dough (Marta) or big blobs of dough (Anne).

"I'm ready to try these now," someone who shall remain nameless said.  "How long are they going to take?"

"Your husband is so funny," one woman (Lady #1) said to me. "Does he joke like this all the time?"

"He's not joking," I retorted.  "Don't get between him and the cookies when they put them out." She blinked at me, apparently not liking my jokes as much.

         The cooled macaron cookies and with filling.

When Rene and Sophie took the finished discs out of the convection oven ("What is a convection oven/  do I need a convection oven to make these?" the blobs of dough lady asked me. "I have a convection oven but never use it.  Do you use yours?  What's the difference?  Why would I use it? I just don't get it. What do you think?"  Always trying to remain polite, I didn't tell her what I thought.  :-)  ), we let them cool about 10 minutes before we turned them over and piped filling on half of them.  Carefully, Rene matched discs of similar size and shape to form the macarons.

Sophie brought out apple cider (a specialty of Normandy) and a plate of different flavored macarons for us to try.

"I think Mike should have the first taste," said Lady #1. "He's been so patiently waiting." The blobs of dough lady pushed to the front, grabbed the first macaron,  and downed it in one gulp. 

Le finished product

We all enjoyed the macarons and cider before heading back to the bus and our ship.  The macarons we brought back and had today were even better than they were just-baked.  The filling has time to almost melt into the cookie and give it more flavor.

I think I'll probably try these at home sometime when I want to make something special.  They're not quite as hard as I thought they were.  I do have to tell you, though, that they are very expensive. Most patisseries here sell them for about 1 euro per cookie as shown above.  Rene and Sophie were selling a box of 8 for 7 euro, and a box of 20 for 18 euro. They are, of course, all made by hand, so they do take a lot longer.  Rene said they can make about 400 cookies per day.

If you're interested in reading more about Rene and Sophie, you can visit their website by clicking here.

If you live in Las Vegas, you can buy macarons at Manon Cafe and Bakery on West Charleston. I will admit, though, that they are not as good as the ones Rene makes. A proper French macaron should have a light, crisp shell and a somewhat chewy interior. The filling adds the flavor and a slightly different texture. Rene advises letting them sit a day or so, and they do taste better with age.  The ones at Manon are rather dry and not too chewy.

If you want to try your hand at making them, you can find a recipe similar to the one Rene shared by clicking here. The biggest difference that I note is that Rene uses an Italian meringue (He cooks the sugar before adding it to the egg white), and this recipe uses regular meringue.  Something tells me the difference is in the texture.

We went to the Normandy beaches today. The experience was quite emotional, as you might expect.  Interestingly, there is a former British bomber pilot on our ship. He went to the Canadian and British beaches, of course, so I'll be anxious to hear his reaction to returning there.

Also, I do have to mention that I'm quite delighted with all the dogs I've met. It's very interesting to walk into a restaurant or butcher shop or bakery and see a dog or two or three standing next to his/her owner.  You know I'm going to LOVE that!