It's funny how Paris keeps bringing back people from my past. This weekend I went out to dinner with my friend Angela from high school. She is living in Zurich, and came to Paris for Chinese New Year. She didn't go to the parade, though. She said the important thing is to have good food, and Paris has better food than Zurich.

Angela has a number of friends in Paris, so there were seven of us who went to a restaurant called Chez Paul, in the Bastille. (I had rabbit thighs stuffed with goat cheese and mint, followed by "tarte tatin" for dessert. All was very tasty.) After dinner we had planned to go to bars on rue de Lappe. The bouncer at one bar did not find us sufficiently cool to merit entry. Jason tried in vain to talk him into letting us in. My philosophy is that any bar that would deny me entry is not a bar I want to go to, so I was glad that the bouncer did not relent. We ended up at a place called "Wax," where we had one drink and then called it a night because we wanted to catch the Metro. But it was great to see Angela. She invited me to come visit her in Zurich, so I will have to find a long weekend to do that.

Today Laura and Thomas and I went to the Catacombs, which are very close to our apartment. It's shameful that we hadn't been there yet (almost as shameful as the fact that I haven't been to the Musee d'Orsay yet). But now we have. At the end of the eighteenth century, it was decided that some of the cemeteries of Paris needed to be emptied for reasons of public health. But where to put everyone's bones? The underground quarry near Montrouge, naturally. So the bones are stored in well-organized stacks, with decorative touches here and there. And there are quotes engraved on plaques, with appropriate sayings about death. I almost wonder if it wasn't designed by Martha Stewart's ancestors.

I found the descent down a really long spiral staircase, and then wandering down long hallways to be a little eerie. But once you get to the rooms with the bones, it's not so much creepy as solemn. Well, except that sometimes there are security guards sitting in dark corners, and it can be surprising to come across them. At the end, you go up 83 winding steps. There's a sign that suggests taking the stairs slowly, which is good advice.