We take the short walk between the Metro and the market. Young men bombard us selling knock off purses, watches, clothing, perfume, and jewelry. We silently pass them by but their eyes plead with us to buy something.

It’s easy to tell when we’ve reached the market. Rap music slices through the air and people converge on a maize of stalls selling everything from Nikes to African trinkets. It’s interesting to note that several stalls carry an array of military clothing. Is France at war or is the latest fashion craze among the young?

John and I manage to get off the beaten path and stumble upon the antique section. We pass through hundreds of stalls selling fine silver, costume jewelry, furniture, collectables, cloth – you name it. Prices are quite high in my option, so I keep my money in my purse.

After a few hours of treasure hunting, we’re overwhelmed with so many choices. We find out way back to the Metro and head south to St. Germain des Pres. Based on a recommendation from John’s friend, we find a fabulous bakery called Gerard Mulot. The windows are full of jaw dropping creations – flawless chocolate cakes, fresh fruit tarts, eclairs, and of course, macarons. People passing by the window have to stop and admire the view causing a small traffic jam on the sidewalk.

Inside, the choices are almost overwhelming. Everything is beautifully prepared and presented. Since I’m a major fan of lemon tarts, I choose one with a meringue top and tiny slice of preserved lemon. John selects something chocolate that I can’t pronounce and a box of marcarons for his family.

A quick word about macarons. If you’ve never had the French version, you’re missing out. These are not the coconut concoction that you’d find in your aunt’s cookie jar. These are small, domed cookies about the size of a 50 cent piece. The outside has a very tenter, but slightly crisp crust while the inside is chewy and cake-like. The French take two cookies and glue them together with something like jam or chocolate ganache. Flavors range from the traditional chocolate or almond to the unusual like peach or pistachio. They are little bites of heaven and are way to fantastic to resist.

Once we have our goodies safely boxed up, we do a little shopping and find a café facing St. Sulpice church. We sit outdoors with the rest of the neighborhood Parisians at a small table and order coffee and tea. Although the sun is shining on us, we’re all pretending it’s a lot warmer than it really is. John takes a picture of me. When I look at it, I notice how hard I’m trying to look French. But no matter how I try to imitate the French in their dress, I’m not successful!

Once finished with our drinks, we head across the square in front of the church to indulge in our treats purchased from Gerard Mulot. My lemon tart is pure in flavor without the usual metallic tang. The meringue is soft and slightly chewy while the pastry is crisp and flakey.

Our next adventure takes us to Poilane – arguably one of the most famous bread stores in the world. I’ve been reading about this place for years, so when we finally find it, I race in to make a purchase. The store is well-known for its large, round loaves with a P drawn into its crust. At 8 Euros ($10), it’s a lot to spend on a loaf of bread. But what surprises me is how heavy the loaf is. At about 15 inches across, it’s probably five pounds. I’m curious to know why.

Tearing off a piece, it becomes clear. The crust is chewy – the kind you really have to work on before swallowing. The inside is rich, moist and also dense. It looks like it might be made with whole wheat flour, but I can’t be sure. The flavor is very intense and earthy. And now the question remains, what do I do with all this bread?!

For dinner, John and I follow another recommendation and head for a crepe restaurant. Crepperie de Jossilin and its smaller storefront, Le Petit Josselin, serve up fabulous Breton style crepes. I order a buckwheat one filled with ham, eggs, cheese and mushrooms. It comes folded into quarters and takes up most of the plate. This is how crepes should taste!

We order a bottle of cider (the alcoholic kind) and drink it with our dinner. There’s no way I can finish mine, especially when I have dessert to look forward to. I settle on a Nutella and banana crepe that is outstanding. By the time I’m half way through, I can’t eat another bite. We pay the bill, thank our server, and head back to the Metro. Another perfect day!