

It was considerably warmer inside the Espace Dalí museum, which houses the largest collection of Dalí sculptures and lithographs in France. Mrs M rested on a bench while I wandered through the gallery to gain further insight into the mind of the Spanish loonie. It is perhaps a sign of an artist’s credibility if part of their work is stolen by Picasso’s dog (Retrospective Bust of a Woman).
Somehow, Mrs M was feeling peckish. We squeezed around a table in the Restaurant Le Consulat to consume a couple of bowls of onion soup next to two American girls who were trying too hard to show they were a couple when nobody really cared. I couldn’t help noticing that one of them left the majority of a plate of mussels while a Dutch chap to my left struggled to eat the same dish with a fork and spoon.


Although El Lubnane in Rue Gallande was completely full at 7.30pm, we managed to wangle a table at the back of the restaurant, mainly because they thought we had a made a reservation. After consuming a huge amount of falafel, kaftah, aubergine salad and other delights, we asked the manager for some halwa expecting something similar to the gloopy Omani sweet made from dates. Lebanese halwa however is a dry, crumbly, white, fudge-like paste made from pistachio nuts and sesame seeds which must be consumed with coffee to prevent your teeth sticking together. Impressed by our performance, the manager hugged Mrs M on departure and wished us a Happy New Year.
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