Paris to the Moon

I loved this book when I first read it about ten years ago. This time, not only was I murmuring, “Oh, lucky ducks, this family is in Paris,” but I was also gushing, “Yes, yes, I went there, too!”

I usually enjoy travel memoirs like this but I struggled so much with this one. I only pushed through it because it was short. All hope was lost for a worthwhile confusion when the author compared gutting a chicken to sex (and this wasn't the only metaphor thrown out there). More pretension than heart. 

I am about half way through this one and it just isn't holding my attention..putting it aside for now...