Permit me to explain. As anyone who is honest about it will tell you, Paris is a city of vulgarians that has somehow cowed the world into believing it is the global capital of worldliness, a living and breathing arbiter of good taste. The Parisians treat each other and everyone else with a crudeness and contempt that would make a New Yorker blush. Yet for reasons as deep as they are mysterious, they retain the unique ability to convey an air of sophistication to anyone unlucky enough to experience prolonged contact with them. You don't live in Paris for the fun of it; you live in Paris to acquire, or seem to acquire, a bit of the Parisan ability to impress others with your worldliness.
Put another way, the whole point of living in Paris for a year is to let others know that you are the kind of person who might well have lived in Paris.
Put yet another way: Though I have arrived at the point where I can't wait to leave Paris, I don't exactly want to leave Paris behind.
Remembrance of Things Paris is probably not the kind of book you should plan to read in a single sitting, or even in a single vacation. Better to let it marinate on your nightstand, in your commuting bag, or wherever you have your morning coffee, ready to be picked up and delved into in small increments. Les Halles and Gourmet may both be gone but with this anthology, they'll never be far away.