Metro Cowboys, Tiny Elevators, Trusting The New Patisserie..."Paris, I've Grown Accustomed To Your Ways" continues the saga begun in Me, Myself and Paris, humorist and writer Ruth Yunker's account of her forays into life in Paris, part time tourist, part time resident. In Paris, I've Grown Accustomed To Your Ways the training wheels have come off. Ms. Yunker negotiates the exquisitely charming, but impossibly exacting, City of Light with a new sense of ease, and an increasing sense of feeling right at home. She revels in the amber warmth of Angelina's chocolate Eden on a cold November day. She zeroes in on, after six visits, her favorite arrondissement in which to rent her apartment...the fifteenth, just so you know She shops in Montmartre with aplomb, and still does not climb up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. She sees passionate love in unexpected places out on the streets of Paris. She watches cowboys riding the metros, and considers the sweet life of a lemon as it rolls out of her apartment door. A little boy in St. Suplice wins her heart. The concierge at the apartment on rue Vaneau does not. She discovers there are rules for finishing one's plate in restaurants. But there are no rules for which pain rustique will make the very best toast every morning. In Paris, I've Grown Accustomed To Your Ways, Ruth Yunker delves deeply to discover what makes the heart of Paris sing, and emerges more in love than ever.

Me, Myself & Paris is author Ruth Yunker's droll pastiche of her days, free and unaccompanied, in Paris. Three years in a row she rents an apartment, stays for six weeks, and takes on Paris, half resident, half visitor. She is a short attention span tourist, a wide-eyed voyeur, and irreverence saves the day when the chips are down. Her stories are about bonhomie and savoir-faire, American style, while treading the hallowed and slippery cobblestones of Paris.
It's about every day errands, and sorties into dutiful sightseeing. It's about run-ins with grocery store cashiers and metro ticket agents. It's about desperately trying to speak French. It's about attempting to emulate the chic, windblown Parisian woman wearing no lipstick, while Ruth wouldn't be caught bare lipped outside the boudoir.
She conquers the metro, no mean feat for a Californian glued to a car. She hears ghosts in cathedrals, and smells bread toasting every morning across the courtyard. She learns to make correct change without her reading glasses. Comes to understand that direct eye contact is a flagrant disregard of manners, even when she most needs a hug.
Me, Myself & Paris is what Paris looks like, feels like, smells like, tastes like, to an American woman, free and unfettered, sense of humor and bonhomie alive and well, alone and loving it, in the most beautiful and temperamental city in the world.

Me, Myself & Paris is author Ruth Yunker's droll pastiche of her days, free and unaccompanied, in Paris. Three years in a row she rents an apartment, stays for six weeks, and takes on Paris, half resident, half visitor. She is a short attention span tourist, a wide-eyed voyeur, and irreverence saves the day when the chips are down. Her stories are about bonhomie and savoir-faire, American style, while treading the hallowed and slippery cobblestones of Paris. It's about every day errands, and sorties into dutiful sightseeing. It's about run-ins with grocery store cashiers and metro ticket agents. It's about desperately trying to speak French. It's about attempting to emulate the chic, windblown Parisian woman wearing no lipstick, while Ruth wouldn't be caught bare lipped outside the boudoir. She conquers the metro, no mean feat for a Californian glued to a car. She hears ghosts in cathedrals, and smells bread toasting every morning across the courtyard. She learns to make correct change without her reading glasses. Comes to understand that direct eye contact is a flagrant disregard of manners, even when she most needs a hug. Me, Myself & Paris is what Paris looks like, feels like, smells like, tastes like, to an American woman, free and unfettered, sense of humor and bonhomie alive and well, alone and loving it, in the most beautiful and temperamental city in the world.

Metro Cowboys, Tiny Elevators, Trusting The New Patisserie..."Paris, I've Grown Accustomed To Your Ways" continues the saga begun in Me, Myself and Paris, humorist and writer Ruth Yunker's account of her forays into life in Paris, part time tourist, part time resident. In Paris, I've Grown Accustomed To Your Ways the training wheels have come off. Ms. Yunker negotiates the exquisitely charming, but impossibly exacting, City of Light with a new sense of ease, and an increasing sense of feeling right at home. She revels in the amber warmth of Angelina's chocolate Eden on a cold November day. She zeroes in on, after six visits, her favorite arrondissement in which to rent her apartment...the fifteenth, just so you know She shops in Montmartre with aplomb, and still does not climb up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. She sees passionate love in unexpected places out on the streets of Paris. She watches cowboys riding the metros, and considers the sweet life of a lemon as it rolls out of her apartment door. A little boy in St. Suplice wins her heart. The concierge at the apartment on rue Vaneau does not. She discovers there are rules for finishing one's plate in restaurants. But there are no rules for which pain rustique will make the very best toast every morning. In Paris, I've Grown Accustomed To Your Ways, Ruth Yunker delves deeply to discover what makes the heart of Paris sing, and emerges more in love than ever.