Camille shrugs. “You take it for granted. And you think every other place on earth is like this. I guess that’s why I never left. Once I really appreciated how special Paris is, I didn’t want to go anywhere else. Things are different these days, however. A lot of young people are leaving. There are no jobs. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ben went to explore the world more after he finishes university. I wouldn’t hold it against him either. There’s so much to see.”

“I’ve traveled around a bit, but I’ve never seen a city so stunning. It’s just the scale of it that blows you away. It’s not just a pretty square here and a splendid cathedral over there, it’s everything together. That’s so very rare.”

“We did some things right in the past. City planning, for instance.” She points to a building in the distance with a French flag perched on top. “That’s the Assemblée nationale over there. We can only hope its members won’t stand too much in Dominique’s way of trying to do right by our country.”

“Look who gets to talk about the president by casually mentioning her first name.”

Camille bumps her shoulder into mine and takes me by the hand again. “Come on. I want to take you somewhere else. I didn’t ask you to wear those shoes for nothing.”

After Camille has guided me away from the river and the big boulevards, she takes me inside a narrow building and down a flight of stairs.

“This is very old school,” she says as we descend.

The deeper we go into the building, the louder the music becomes. When she opens the door a French song bellows out to us.

“You can’t really know a woman until you’ve danced with her,” she shouts into my ear.

I look across the darkened room. About a dozen couples are on the small dance floor, engaged in what to my untrained eyes looks like a tango. Small round tables line the walls and there’s a bar at the back with an improvised DJ booth next to it. All of this would make more sense if it wasn’t the middle of the afternoon.

“What is this place?” I look at Camille, unable to hide my bewilderment.

“One of Paris’ best kept secrets.” She shoots me a wide grin. “It’s a thé dansant, an old-fashioned tea dance, except we don’t drink tea.” She grabs me by the hand. “Come on, let’s get a drink. Get you used to the vibe of the place. It can be a bit overwhelming.” At the bar, she puts a hand in the small of my back, and I feel a little less overwhelmed—I guess she could read it off my face.