It takes only a few minutes walking Paris’ streets before the jetlag begins to wane. Of course, it helps having to dodge scooters which’ve taken to the sidewalks to circumnavigate stop-start traffic that begins at dawn and eventually fades around 8 p.m.

Having spent an inordinate amount of time sweating profusely on Métro Line 4, I now understand why so many people drive cars in Paris. How nice, then, that that’s my only complaint—damn you, Métro Line 4!—after two weeks in Paris. (The only other complaint that we left . . .)

We couldn’t have picked a better place to stay for our two weeks: on rue de Cléry in the 2e arrondissement (home to Bourse de Paris, the Paris stock exchange, and Le Quartier du sentier, the Garment District).

Sounds dull? In less than five minutes from our clean, spacious, well-equipped, and ultimately very comfy apartment we could walk to:

• Rue Montorgueil (one of Paris’ best market streets, home to the delectable pâtissier Stohrer—opened by one of Louis XV’s pastry chefs—and Au Rocher de Cancale—operating since the mid-19th century—for a day’s-end drink or two and that most Parisian of pursuits: people watching)
• À la Cloche des Halles (our favourite wine bar)
• Au Pied de Cochon (for 24-hour, 7-day-a-week classic eats)
• Willi’s Wine Bar (started by an Englishman, natch)
• The Frog & Rosbif (for English football)
• Le Mesturet (for its fantastic, lemony blanquettes de veau)
• Centre Georges Pompidou (nothing else quite like it in Paris)

Add a few minutes to the walk and we were in Le Marais, home to Paris’ Jewish (rue des Rosiers) community, Place des Vosges, the Musée Picasso, and countless little boutiques for The Wife.

Walking was one reason we chose Paris and it’s a wonderful city in which to wander grand boulevards or cobbled sidestreets, whether aimlessly or with purpose. A café (Au Sauvignon, perhaps) is always beckoning you to sit, relax, enjoy a glass of wine or a pastis and people watch before picking up and moving on.

We averaged at least 10 miles a day, leisurely walks (even in the rain) to almost every arrondissement, taking in famous sites (Les Invalides, Arc de Triomphe, Opéra de Paris, Cimetière de Montparnasse, Basilique du Sacré-Cœur, Cimetière du Père-Lachaise) as well as those not as well known (Canal Saint-Martin, Le Viaduc des Arts, La Promenade Plantée, Nicolas Flamel’s house).

In the end, however, it may be the meals that we most remember (or at least remember most fondly). Leaving Pierre Gagnaire to one side for now (and I will recap that insane day tomorrow), two other restaurants need to be highlighted:

Chez Michel, 109 rue de Belzunce, 10e, 01.44.53.06.20. Métro: Gare du Nord.

Chef Thierry Breton is considered one of the best young chefs in Paris. I concur. There wasn’t a single misstep during our lunch on 4 September. Let me dine at Chez Michel once a week for the rest of my life and I won’t need to eat out anywhere else. The meal was that good; and it won’t break the bank. I believe our only regret of the trip was that we didn’t return. If you’re going to Paris, you must go. We will.

Casa Olympe, 48 rue Saint-Georges, 9e, 01.42.85.26.02.  Métro: Saint-Georges.

Olympe Versini has been part of the Parisian scene for a long time, but she’s returned to her Corsican roots with her namesake restaurant. I started with terrine de foie gras de Canard à la vanille but it was the cocotte de pintade aux épices that brought me near tears. Who’d have thought guinea hen from Challans would have such a profound effect on me? Not The Wife who looked on in amazement (momentarily pausing from her ris de veau croustillants, câpres de Pantelleria) as I lovingly savoured every tiny forkful of the most delicious guinea hen that’s ever been served.

Ah . . . memories.

Too much food? Ha! Tune in tomorrow . . .