Le Bourget

I forgot to mention that we visited the Bourget as well (annual conference of UOIF, the French equivalent of ISB or similar from what I can make out). The Metro was awash with Muslims and there was a shuttle bus transferring people to the Parc d'Expositions where it was held - that's proper French buses not minibuses or dirty white vans or anything.

We went on the last day so didn't hear any stirring French speeches or anything but I caught some of the closing concert with Raihan singing 'Merci Allah'. I also met one of my dear Frenchies (as Cherry, for want of a better pseudonym, used to call them). She had the most delicious little niece with her, all blue eyes and curly blonde hair and eyelashes. I could eat her with a spoon. If only I, too, had married a Morrocan.

There was also a market of awe-inspiring proportions, with fresh Muslim produce from all over the world - jilbabs from Morocco, scarves a plenty and other goodies all surprisingly cheap. Unfortunately, I was only let loose with 20 Euros, so had to curtail my expenditure severely. This would not have been a problem if all the cash machines in the region had not been emptied by previous (doubtless female) greedy shoppers. It teaches me the lesson, of never refusing money when your husband offers it - although he actually only had about 8 euros himself when all was said and done. Oh dear now I'm going to make him feel bad. For the record, Mr C took me out to dinner once and to lunch every day during our trip. He also took me on a scenic walking tour which took in, amongst other things, the gayest road in all Gay Paris.