We learned through many tastings where to buy the "best" of each of the essential food groups: Bread, Cheese, Chocolates, Olives, Pastries, Pâté, Produce, and Wine. Most were within walking distance of our France Homestyle apartment in the 9th Arrondisement.

We scoured the city from the Grandes Epicerie of Bon Marché to the markets - covered markets, organic markets, indoor markets, outdoor markets, and permanent market streets: Rue Montorgueil, Rue Cler, Rue Mouffetard. Everywhere we went we delighted in the sights and sounds of Paris. Conversations, gesticulations, heated discussions, touching, tasting, and bargaining. When we couldn't possibly carry one more thing, then and only then, was it time to return home to our France Homestyle apartment and savor the bounties.

Our best discovery was the Rotisserie Man on Rue St.Lazare. It was an unseasonably hot September day in the year 2000 when we found his tiny shop -it barely measured 8' x 8'. One entire wall, from floor to ceiling, was a rotisserie. As hot as it was outside, the heat inside was so intense we could barely breathe. Eight skewers laden with chicken, lamb, pork and turkey slowly revolved in the searing heat. Piled at bottom were potatoes and onions all basting in the luscious drippings from above. It was difficult to decide what to choose; everything smelled so good and the flavors were exquisite. Just before departing Paris, we stopped to say goodbye, hoping to see him the next year. I took his photo, as he was our chef on many occasions!

The following year, my first destination before I even unpacked was Rue St. Lazare to see my friend the Rotisserie Man. From a block away, I smelled the wonderful aromas from his rotisserie. What was his special today, I wondered? With each step, my mouth watered in anticipation of that evening's dinner. I was so excited to be back in Paris and getting my dinner from my favorite vendor. Imagine my surprise and disappointment to see his shop shuttered tight. Utter panic swept over me - could he possibly be out of business? Relief quickly came as I read the posted notice announcing he would return from summer holiday the following week. Was it jet lag, a daydream or a Pavlovian reaction? I knew I smelled his food!

One week later, the day he re-opened, there I was again, ready for anything he prepared. I also had his gift, the photo I shot the previous year. He was so delighted that I had returned and so appreciative of the gift. Every few days, we visited hime for something to eat and he greeted us as if we had been customers for years. I suddenly became: "l'Americaine!" After 9/11 he grieved with us - he was our friend. Each year, we sadly say goodbye and count the days until we return to eat his wonderful food. As I write this, we will be there in 3 days, 7 hours and 18 minutes!

I knew it was missing before I reached into my back pocket. We were aboard the Metro, halfway between the Saint-Sulpice and St. Placide stops in Paris. I was holding our four-year-old daughter, Shannon, in my arms. My wife saw the look on my face and understood at once.

"My wallet is gone," I muttered. It contained nearly $400 U.S. dollars in French Francs, credit cards and more. In short, more personal items and cash than a traveler ever need carry. I knew better. April in Paris, our dream vacation hit rock bottom in an instant.

We had just spent a pleasant day with Marianne and Stephane, old friends who had traveled from Switzerland to be with us for the weekend. I had met Marianne and Stephane seven years earlier in a West Texas college town - they were studying in the States. They had introduced me to a friend of theirs, Annie, who was now my wife and the mother of the child I was holding in my arms. With the excitement of seeing these special friends for the first time in years, and distracted by my young daughter, I simply wasn't paying attention.

The following day the credit cards had been cancelled and we were determined to get beyond the crisis. That evening the phone rang at our France Homestyle apartment on Rue de Rennes. Claudette, the owner of France Homestyle, was on the other end.

"Scott, did you lose something?"

The next morning, I traveled to the workplace of Massimo, an Italian businessman who lives in Paris. He had found the wallet (cash and cards intact) and took matters into his own hands, calling France Homestyle after finding their business card inside the wallet. No payment and no reward, was his insistence over the phone. This had happened to him once, he said, and he was simply repaying the favor. Nevertheless, we gave him a very nice bottle of wine.

More than two years later, we can listen to Massimo's voice on our answering machine, introducing himself and telling us he has my wallet. It is the only message that never gets erased - a constant reminder of the good and honesty in the world, and of the marvels of travel. My daughter never fails to giggle when she hears it.

"Daddy, you've lost your wallet again," she says with a smile.

Scott, Annie and now six-year old Shannon Tichenor returned to Paris as France Homestyle customers in July, 2003. Both wallet and family returned safely home to Kansas without incident.