Best hot chocolate in the world and the ugliest shoes in the world. Period.

Les Deux Magots is one of my favorite places on earth. It is one of the hang-outs of Hemingway, Sartre, and Picasso, among others, and one of the birthplaces of existentialism (according to the Lonely Planet France guidebook). (Yes, I read Lonely Planet guides...) Anyway, back to the hot chocolate. My husband and I tasted it last time we were in Paris, and swore to always return to this magical place. The hot chocolate is easily the most delectable, velvety cup of dark chocolaty richness I've ever had the privilege to enjoy. It was even better this time around, and in my toddler's words was: "yum yum!"

I accompanied it with a croissant, and I was in chocolate heaven. 

Now, to offer some contrast with this mouth-watering deliciousness, I'd like to share a less appetizing situation. If you are even the least little bit aware of shoe aesthetics, then you'll understand my predicament. These are the shoes I have to wear to culinary school:

I had to go to the end of the world (well, the end of the metro map of Paris) to buy them at a chef's speciality store (which was actually pretty cool), and I almost gagged when the sales person told me these were the ones Cordon Bleu students wore. "The women tend to choose the white ones rather than the black," she said. "That's a little better, I guess," I said. They're steel-tipped, oil resistant, and can withstand the side effects of the atomic bomb (well, maybe not that) "security shoes" and they're hideous. They are comfortable and strong, though, which is what will be important when I'm standing up for ten hours a day and a sharp knife comes flying down to my toes. Pity party over here.