The next day – a Sunday – the plan is to visit Disneyland with my cousin, his wife and their six year old son. When I announce that I’m ready I learn that they are just waking up, so I go out for a walk near the hotel.
At 8:30 on a Sunday morning a different side of Paris emerges. The city is asleep; I see only elderly men and women on the streets; restaurants show no signs of activity and cafes that are open have one or two customers; florists and fruit shops are the only ones open.
The contrast to yesterday could not have been more stark.