I never thought I would be reading a limited edition of Leo Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” in Russian looking down at Notre Dame de Paris. A little bookshop Gilbert Jeune with scratched floors and dusty shelves on the corner of St. Michel Street and St. Denis Boulevard in the Latin Quarter is a beloved place of Parisian students. Besides a rare collection of French classics, from Emile Zola toAlexander Dumas, the bookshop offers more than books, which I was about to find out.

Tea glorious tea. Paris is truly the tea-capital of the world and here is one more reason why. Le Parti du Thé, a bright little three-year old tea boutique at 33 rue Faidherbe is an easily accessible and very well stocked teashop in the heart of the Faubourg St. Antoine/Rue Paul Bert foodie-hub. Le Parti du Thé is dedicated to bringing the multi-national world of tea to everyone and anyone remotely interested, sans the sometimes less than engaging ‘attitude’ of some of the more formal teashops in Paris.

Whether you’re a passionate collector or merely a lover of whimsical trinkets, a wander through one of Paris’ flea markets will always seduce and enthral. The Paris flea markets originated in the 18th-century when chiffoniers or rag-and-bone men resold goods and clothing found in aristocrats’ rubbish bins, setting up just outside the gates of Paris to avoid fees and taxes incurred within city walls. Consequently, the main flea markets sit on the rim of the city close to the Boulevard Peripherique (ring road).

Hidden in historic mansions, secluded in greenery or tucked in out-of-the-way places, the countless small museums of Paris offer a refreshing alternative to long lines at the Louvre. Their manageable size means they can be enjoyed in the space of an hour or two, providing delightful diversions in a savvy traveller’s day. Intriguing and intimate, they range in style from classic to quirky to downright eccentric.

The Le Monde article I read a few days ago began: ‘The stock exchanges are collapsing from one end of the planet to the other… ‘ but French singer Alain Souchon has chosen this moment, apparently, to bring some balm to our hearts (this is my rough paraphrase of the article) with his bitter-sweet song, ‘Parachute doré’, golden parachute.

The first time I saw Paris was some 30 years ago. Yes, I'm dating myself, but at this point, I believe I've reached a point at which age is irrelevant. Too soon old, too late wise, the saying goes. Today, I feel myself poised in the balance of that equation, neither too old, nor too wise, certainly not yet wise enough to have figured out what the heck I was thinking back then, or if I had been thinking at all.