So here we were, ready for our vacation in Paris, with a great apartment on the rue Guenegaud. It's a beautiful place, warm, comfy, with a living room on the first level and a stairway up to sleeping loft above. It's in a classy neighborhood, right by the Pont Neuf and the Île de la Cité. We celebrate the first night there by gorging on wine and cheese and beautiful French bread from the rue de Buci.

On Monday morning, we are awakened by an incredible clatter from the apartment above ours. I go upstairs, and it's the construction guys, just beginning the remodeling of the apartment, which will run from dawn to dusk for several weeks. What to do?

We call the apartment rental agency and they verify that this is, indeed, a problem. So they ask us to come by and get the keys for another apartment. It's in Montparnasse, not quite as classy, but they assure us that we'll be happy with it. Besides, it's the only one free right now.

So we stop by the agency to pick up the keys. The rental agent looks at us and asks, "Just the two of you, eh?" We say yes, and he assures us that there will be plenty of room. So we go back to the original apartment, hail a cab, and begin the process of relocating in Paris.

We arrive at our new apartment, on the rue de Rennes, just above Boulevard Montparnasse. We drag everything into the elevator and go to our floor (the first apartment was a third-floor walkup, so this was an improvement.) We opened the door, not knowing what to expect.

It was a twelve-room apartment, with a grand piano in the entranceway. Yes, I guess there would be room for the two of us. I looked around, half expecting to see Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer.

The picture above was taken from the kitchen window. It was reduced to black and white, and then the sky was colored back in.