Almost everyone knows my favorite place is

Paris.  I love the architecture, walking on streets where Van Gogh or Monet once walked, the history and the restaurants.  The people have always been kind to me, even though I don’t speak French.  When you travel you’ll find people are the same all over the world.  A few bad apples do not mean the French hate Americans.My favorite place to stay, is the Hotel Aubusson, which is located across the street from the Louvre and down the street from Notre Dame. 

On one of my many excursions to

Paris, I traveled with a wonderful friend.  This friend, although encouraging, doesn’t want to know what’s out there.  Unfortunately for her, when you’re with me it’s not that easy for others to shut it out.  Poor thing, her rose colored glasses are cracking all the time.

One rainy afternoon, we walked around the streets looking for a restaurant so we could get some lunch.  A small restaurant with the right ambience and a good selection on the menu crossed our path.  My friend doesn’t speak French either, so it was trial and error.  Good thing we love food and the wine helps us to forget anything bad, lol.

While we were talking waiting for our lunch, a very tall (six feet plus) older gentelman with white hair, walked in and was seated about two tables behind us.  For some reason we thought he might have been German.  

I almost forgot to tell you, the restaurant was empty until we and the gentleman.  

When the German guy sat down, I told my friend that he had a spirit attached to him.  A young man in his twenties.  I started to get out of my seat to go speak with the guy and told my friend what I was doing.  This is perfectly normal for me to do, so I didn’t think about us being in a different country, in a strange restaurant, talking to a complete stranger.

My friend grabbed my arm and asked me not to speak with the guy.  Remember, if you don’t acknowledge spirits, then they don’t exist.  Poor, poor friend.  I respected her feelings and didn’t tell him.

The food was served and we talked the afternoon away.  When the waitress came back to pick up the dishes, she found that I didn’t eat very much.  I only eat until I’m full.  It could be two bites or the whole thing.  Here’s the conversation that took place:

“You no like food?”

“No, I love the food.  I just wasn’t hungry.”

“Are you sure? You don’t like?”

“Yes, it was wonderful.  Thank you.”  Waitress leaves with our plates.

“If you weren’t talking so much, maybe you would have eaten the food.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Well, guess what.  When the waitress walked away we heard a man’s voice in a very clear American accent say, we were talking too much.

The disembodied voice was heard right beside my friend.  She repeated to me what was said.  I could see the German guy behind her.  He never even looked our way and was staring at the far wall.  It wasn’t him.

Now my friend is freaking out, because not only did she hear the spirit, it sat by her.  Poor, poor friend.  I laughed and thought it was funny.  I guess that twenty something guy wanted to say hi. 

We soon left the restaurant and had an uneventful night (at least the only spirit we had was in a wine bottle).

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