It is Sunday, and the parks of full of Parisians lying about in the sun with their shirts off. The edge of the Bois' seemed to be populated by boguns in family tents, all playing different extremely loud Mexican music and drinking beer. I recalled the reputation of the Bois de Boulogne as a place where the seedier side of life congregates, especially at night. We pressed on and came upon a nicer area around a lake.
| Bois de Boulogne, with a ferry to the cafe on the island. |
| Sue met some geese. |
| Sunday in the park. |
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| We had cold drink on the island. |
