When we got to Paris on Thursday morning, Jean-Marc was right outside our carriage to greet us. He was all prepared with maps, and phone-numbers and he made life so easy for us; he took our bags home in his car, while we took the subway. A short while later, Ben and I were roaming free in on a beautiful day in Paris.

It was Ben's first visit to Paris, and my umpteenth; despite my having seen all the sites several times, I was more than happy to be with Ben when he experienced it for the first time. We only went up to the second level of the tower, but as we walked around and surveyed Paris, with me pointing out the sites I knew, I saw Ben tear up at the beauty of it all. And of course I teared up at the thought of him tearing up. We're both such crybabies, I guess.

On the second level of the Eiffel Tower, the day we arrived in Paris

Afterwards, we leapt up on one of those open-topped, double-decker tourist buses. It was a good choice, since we got to drive along some grand boulevards, and see some sights we'd probably otherwise not have time for, such as Les Invalides, and the Alexander III Bridge. We leapt off at the Louvre so that we could walk towards the Marais for some lunch. We happened across a little, fairly non-descript restaurant on the edge of Les Halles called Carpe Diem, and had an incredibe, if expensive ($70), lunch, the highlight of which was camembert roasted in caramel. Ben is something of a gourmand, and this meal was the beginning of his falling in love with French cuisine.

Afterwards we walked over to Notre Dame and took a brief look inside, and an even briefer walk around it before deciding we were too fagged out from our interrupted sleep on the train to do any more tourising that afternoon. So we retired back to Jean-Marc's for a long nap.

Jean-Marc showed up around six, and we set off for a long evening walk before dinner, starting at St Supplice and St Germain de Pres, past the Acadamie Francaise and the Ecole des Beaux Arts, walking over the Pont des Arts, and through the courtyard of the louvre, ogling all the pretty sights like kids who'd never been to the big city. It was a gorgeous evening, with perfect light, as all of our evenings in Paris would prove to be. As we passed through the streets, I felt like we were just touching the surface of Paris; so many streets left unexplored, little art exhibitions unvisited, interesting stores and galleries not patronised.

Ben and Jean-Marc outside the Acadamie Francaise

On the Ponte des Arts

In the courtyard of the Louvre

Finally, we went to the Marais, and walked around the streets, which, now that we were well into September, were much more bustling than they had been on the brief visit we payed the day Ben arrived in France from Los Angeles (the day we also left Paris to take the night train to Venice). Last time I was in Paris, Jean-Marc had taken Brett and I to an elegant restaurant in the Marais where we'd had a delicious meal, so I asked Jean-Marc if we could go there again. What I hadn't remembered is that it's at the far end of the Marais. So both Ben and I were dragging by the time we reached the place. The food, though, was truly excellent, so it was worth the long walk. The end of a perfect first day in Paris.

In the morning, we'd set ourselves the goal of going to the gym before heading out to go to the Louvre. But we slept in late, and I spoiled the idea of getting up immediately by starting to make out with Ben. By the time we got up, it was such a beautiful morning, and our spirits rebelled against working out. So we took the subway to the Louvre, and spent a happy ninety minutes or so pointing things out to each other in the huge galleries devoted to French sculpture, and then the department for Mesopotamian antiquities. We both felt a sense of wonder at the museum, as well as, I think, a wonderful sense of harmony and companionship.

Part of a huge statue in the quartet of figures from the Place des Victoires, in the Louvre

Perfect Form

In Jean-Marc's neighborhood, before setting off for the Louvre, Ben and I had shopped for a picnic. Just on the main street, rue de Commerce, just a typical, non-touristic non-central Paris high street, there are shops which are no longer to be found in the U.S.; perfect little stores selling meat, cheese, or fish, or exquisite pastries and breads. It's a delight to anybody interested in food, and it demonstrated to Ben and I the difference in the way of life in France compared to the U.S. In the U.S. the interests of big business and market forces have stomped down on the old trades, and you no longer find them, except when they're labeled as gourmet stores, and take on a Disneyesque quality. In France, this is the way of life; you pay a little extra, but it's about enjoying life, not saving your pennies.

We took the subway to the foot of Montmartre, and took the furnicular up to the top of the hill, where the ethereal domes of Sacre Couer hovered. The cheese was beginning to smell a bit by now, but everything was perfectly ready to eat, and on a park bench just below Sacre Couer, we ate our $50 picnic with great relish, looking out on Paris below.

Ben at Sacre Couer

Sacre Couer

On the way down Montmartre; a very similar photograph to one taken there three years ago

In the evening, Ben, Jean-Marc and I met up with two of Jean-Marc's friends Shanice and Pierrick for dinner in the Marais at an excellent French restaurant, le Petit Marseillais. I was a little bit sorry for Ben, since he was the only person who couldn't speak French. But Ben's social powers are not easily vanquished, and he held his own. Afterwards, we went with Jean-Marc to a new bar, called Redd Bar, another crowded, smokey, tiny European joint not at all to our tastes, despite the man showering in the show-case window in the side of the room.

In the morning, we did manage to get up early enough to go to the gym, and we had a decent workout, although I have to remember not to drink coffee before working out, since it make me jittery and prone to shortness of breath. Then Jean-Marc joined us, and we took the subway to the Musee D'orsay, the home of French Impressionism in Paris. Although the museum obviously has an outstanding collection, I found it to be an irritating, confusing museum. Many of the public spaces are warrens of low-ceilinged rooms, and it's not at all clear how to take it all in. The main hall (the museum is a converted railway station) could have been magnificent; instead it feels like a proud space that's been marred by shapeless galleries built on either side.

On top of the Musee D'orsay. You can see Sacre Couer in the distance

A Manet in the Musee D'Orsay

In the delightful afternoon weather, we crossed the Seine, and walked through Les Jardins des Tuileries. Then we took lunch in the food court at the Louvre (an experience which puts most American food-courts to shame), before taking the subway to Etienne Marcel to go clothes shopping on the street of the same name. The very first shop into which we walked, Teddy Smith, turned out to be a great find, and Ben bought a sweeter, while I bought a pair of pants. The weather had changed suddenly, and for the first time on the trip we had rain; serious rain. So I browsed a bit more in the store, and bought a new shirt to add to my pants. An expensive rain storm.

Walking along the Seine hand-in-hand with Ben on a beautiful day; a sublime moment

Les Jardins des Tuileries on a perfect late Summer day

We wore Ben out shopping the whole of rue Etienne Marcel, and he took the subway home by himself, while Jean-Marc accompanied on a fruitless search through the men's clothing stores in the Marais. Shopping with Ben is a little bit agonizing for me; everything fits and flatters him, while for me, with my height, broad-shoulders, narrow waist and long arms, I have to rely on lucky finds. However, I always seem to have those lucky finds when I'm with Ben, so I guess his departure jinxed my luck in the Marais.

We took an early dinner at a Chinese/Thai/Vietnamese restaurant near Jean-Marc's flat, then took a long rest at home to prepare for going out to the famous French gay club on the Champs d'Elysee, The Queen. En route, Jean-Marc (who's been the best, kindest, most considerate host imaginable) took us on a late night drive around Parisian sites, including the Eiffel Tower (which erupts with flashing lights on the hour), and a hair-razing circumnavigation around the Etoile, the massive traffic circle around the Arc de Triomphe, where there are no marked lanes, and twelve avenues radiating off; total chaos.

I'd been to The Queen with Brett three years earlier, and I seemed to remember not having the best of times. But this time, it was quite different. As soon as we walked in, we found that people were quite friendly. But all the people we met were American. We met a girl and a very tall boy from New Jersey, who were studying in Paris, and another gorgeous latina from San Jose. Ben and I had our usual wonderful time together, dancing in each others arms, and dancing on stage, trying to make sure we kept in contact with Jean-Marc. The only thing I didn't like was the price of the drinks - ten Euros (about $12) for anything, even a bottle of water. We stayed out until after five, and by then it seemed the club was still in mid-flight (it didn't really get going until two). Jean-Marc dropped Ben and I off at his apartment (he stayed with his sister giving us the apartment to ourselves), and we had our usual prolonged, post-club sexual interlude until well after dawn.

Amazingly, we got up just about three hours later. Ben started making out with me while I was still half asleep; a delightful way to wake up. It was another gorgeous morning, and we decided that despite only three hours of sleep, we wouldn't waste it by lying in bed. So we went out on what was to prove to be a wonderful, lazy, memorable final day for us together in Paris. After a wonderful brunch buffet in the Marais, at a place called L'Arganier, we took the subway to the Tuileries, and walked down to the pathway along the Seine that Jean-Marc had indicated was the "gay beach". For weeks, we'd planned to walk along the Seine, hand-in-hand, listening to the Abba song "Our Last Summer" (yes we're both ridiculous romantics) on my ipod, using double headphones, and this was the afternoon we did it. It was another in a series of defining moments that we both wanted to burn into our memories forever. We felt young, and innocent; the weather was perfect and we walked shirtless, hand-in-hand, listening to the music, both of us with tears in our eyes.

These five photos are Ben and I posing in the "gay beach" section along the Seine

After sitting down for some sun, we bought a ticket for a boat-ride back up the Seine and round again to Saint Germain de Pres. The sky had taken on an unbelievable perfection; deep blue with small fluffy clouds scattered evenly across it. There was the tiniest trace of Fall in the air, and in the new colors in some of the trees along the Seine. Amazingly, we'd been in Paris in Summer three weeks earlier, and now were here again in time to see the season change. We knew this was really our last experience of discovery together on this trip, and we stood, hand-in-hand, drinking in all the beauty as we passed up and down the Seine.

A boat ride along the Seine with a picture-perfect sky

Oh I admit it. The only real reason we'd stopped at St Germain de Pres was that I knew there was another Starbucks there. We soon found it at Odeon, and relaxed for a while, enjoying a feeling of happy fatigue. I felt incredibly happy and content, and at peace. But we were pretty much wiped out by now, so it was time to call it a day for now, and head back to the apartment to recouperate for another night out on the town; Ben's last night of his vacation.

Ah.... A frappucino at Starbucks at Odeon

By the time that Jean-Marc came over to pick us up to go out for the "gaiety dance" (as Jean-Marc called it), I was still tired but happy, while Ben had come over tired and sad. He seemed really rather despondent, and I felt sorry for him; I know he was feeling sad to be leaving Paris, and leaving me, while I continued my vacation. We started off at the same tea-dance, Belounge, I'd gone to with Jean-Marc three days earlier, the day I arrived from San Francisco. I didn't like it then, but this time both the music and the crowd were much better. We ran into Jean-Marc's friend Perrick, and the four of us had a really good time for a couple of hours, lifting Ben right out of his sad mood. We ended the day at The Queen again, staying out late once again. While we had a good time, the music wasn't great, and I ended up wishing we'd stayed at Belounge as our last experience in Paris.

The day of Ben's departure. I'd asked Jean-Marc if we could be alone, so we took the Air France shuttle to the airport, from the Etoile, passing through Paris together for the last time on this trip. I found myself fantasizing about living here; I've grown to love it so much.

A few precious final moments together at Charles de Gaule

Once at the airport, after Ben had checked in, we had half an hour to get a snack and some coffee. I know I was deliberately not thinking about Ben's departure, because I didn't want our final moments together to be sad. It was the end of three weeks in each other's company, when the longest we'd ever been together before was just four days. And we were ending the three weeks feeling more close than ever. Whatever doubts I'd ever had that Ben is the perfect match for me had now completely vanished. Finally, I walked him to the security line, and we hugged and kissed, uncaring that people stared. After our final goodbye, I turned away and didn't look back because I didn't want the staring people to see me become emotional. I think my emotion came from realizing that this three weeks together had been a milestone in our relationship; and not so much from saying goodbye; after all, I'll see him in Los Angeles in just ten days. On the way back into Paris, on the RER, I wrote Ben a card, telling him how my feelings had developed over the trip, while the thoughts were still fresh in my mind. What an incredible experience those three weeks were. Yet my trip wasn't over - I still have Prague and Berlin to come.