Parisian Yves Grandjean lifts his eyes and aquiline nose skyward to dream. Scents of steeping coffee and baking bread drift from cafes on cobbled avenue Junot in Montmartre. Overflowing flower boxes of vibrant purple petunias and puffy red geraniums brighten the buildings' creme colored facades like artists' bold paint splatters on blank canvases.

Montmartre's avenue Junot is a main shopping street in this swank Parisian neighborhood lined with cafes, bars and gourmet food shops.

Now, this is life in the "BoBo," Yves says, inhaling deeply. Short for bourgeoisie and bohemian, "BoBo" is the local nickname for the upper portion of the city's celebrated arts and entertainment district.

While my husband Bob and I had been to Paris before, this was our first vision of Montmartre through a native Parisian's eyes. Yves, a business associate and dear friend, shared with us what he finds most enjoyable in his hometown, from its culinary delights and diverse architecture to its smaller museums and simple, pure Parisian pleasures.

Even for Parisians, life in the Montmartre's BoBo is like living in a post card. Arching, zinc mansard roofs crown handsome, six-story apartment buildings wrapped in ornate wrought-iron balconies. This neo-classical look is typical of residential "Haussmann Style" architecture. It is named after mid-19th century urban planner Georges-Eugene Haussmann, who appointed by Napoleon III to modernize Paris virtually wiped out the city's medieval origins. He created expansive boulevard system, large landscaped parks and unified architectural appearance the world knows as Paris.

From the steps of Sacre Coeur, Montmartre's neo-Byzantine cathedral high above the city, Yves pointed out 12 wide boulevards converging at the Arc de Triomphe like a giant asterisk. Looking down at the world's largest intersection called Líetoile (The Star), he chuckled, "Haussmann also masterminded centuries of traffic accidents.

At Chez la Mere Catherine restaurant in place du Tertre, the popular tourists square where artists create portraits, a mime performed to an organ-grinder warbling like Edith Piaf. The outdoor cafe is in front of the French female revolutionary Catherine Lemoine's 1793 home. Yves chose this restaurant for its historic locale, color and clams. Only the French eat with their fingers in style. Yves schooled me in daintily plucking the clam from its shell using a second, empty hinged shell. Descending the BoBo's quiet streets to busy rue Lepic lined with seedy sex shops and "experimental" theaters, we passed the Moulin Rouge, the infamous cabaret portrayed in Toulouse-Lautrec's vivid paintings. The familiar windmill Moulin de la Galette opposite rue Tholoze pictured in Renoir's paintings has a small vineyard and winery at its base. While the windmill is not open to the public, its annual autumn wine festival welcomes all. Yves said, "The wine is not very good, but the party is." But, during our week together, we had plenty of fine French wine and memorable meals with Yves and his wife Marie-Claude. For Parisians, weekday dinners never begin before 8 p.m., and last easily till midnight without the slightest glance at a wristwatch.

We ate for hours at Le Petit Zinc on rue St. Benoit in the high-brow district of St. Germain des Pres on the River Seine's lively Left Bank. The Belle Špoque brasserie's name means "tiny zinc" which Yves explained recalls an old Paris saying "Meet me at the zinc for a drink." At one time, all Paris's bars had zinc tops like the one at this late 1900s restaurant. We sipped silky Sancerre white wine from the Loire Valley well after the seafood platters of fresh, seasonal Mediterranean lobster, clams and oysters were cleared by attentive, white approned-waiters.

St. Germain's cafes have harbored intellectuals, writers and political rabble-rousers for centuries. Across from St. Suplice, a massive 17th century cathedral, existential writers Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir collaborated at Cafe de Flore. Ernest Hemingway favored Les Deux Magots. A coffee served under the fragrant linden trees costs enough Euros to buy an authentic bistro meal at a low-key restaurant. One such is Chez Georges near the MusČe du Louvre on the Seineís Right Bank.

Chez Georges, a bistro founded in 1900 by the Brovillet family, is a well kept gastronomic secret, even from our Parisian friend. Upon entering the intimate restaurant on rue du Mail at la place des Victories, Yves's surprised delight shown on his face. He immediately asked how we knew this place. A Francophile acquaintance of ours from Chicago had recommended it.

Greeting us at the door, 20-year-old Chef Bernarde Arnaud proudly shared his restaurant's history, in French. Marie-Claude translated: "I work to continue the legacy of my father and grandfather. For over 100 years my family has made true Parisian bistro food.

Bathed in egg-yolk yellow light from antique chandeliers, restaurant patrons sit side-by-side at a banquette backed by beveled, silvered mirrors. Laughter filled the air. Everyone encouraged tastes from each others plates. The chic woman next to me saw me eyeballing her plump raspberries. She offered me a spoonful. Our party shared goose p’te, marinated herring, beef filet in cognac mustard sauce, sole drizzled in a wine shallot sauce, creamy camembert cheese from Normandy and a bottle or two of Veuve Cliquot champagne.

Parisians frequent their cultural landmarks almost as much as their restaurants. Nightly, locals enjoy the Eiffel Tower's light show.

Thousands of lights on the soaring iron tower twinkle for 10 minutes every hour on the hour from dawn to midnight. We took in the show from the mahogany decks of le Don Juan II, an exquisite vintage yacht that hosts intimate Seine River dinner cruises. We passed under 30 bridges and by the city's most celebrated, riverside landmarks flooded with light. The 7-course, gourmet meal included lobster · la Provenaale, John Dory whitefish and roast lamb with fennel sauce. Assorted cheeses, pastel-colored, pistachio macaroons and Laurent Perrier champagne made for a sweet ending to the luscious meal.

We cruised by Isle de la Cite, the most romantic spot in Paris at sunset. Notre Dame's creamy stone facade shimmers like liquid honey. At the base of Pont Neuf on the island's grassy tip, called Vert Galant, is where King Henry IV proposed to his wife Marie de Medici. "And, all his mistresses thereafter," laughed Yves. As the pink sky fades to royal purple, couples lay out blankets to picnic under the willows.

Parisians love to show off their Cathedral of Notre Dame on Isle de la Cite, especially now that the exterior cleaning has recently been completed. Built between 1163 and 1345, the Gothic monument's cavernous interior is most visible when milky morning light filters through the rosette stained-glass windows that look like giant, lacy pizzell cookies. Locals gather during the day in the cathedral's rear manicured rose garden and park, a welcome escape from the crowds within. Sycamore trees whose lobed leaf branches are sculpted into large rectangles provide shade even at noon. As a practicing choir's angelic voices float through the air, nannies rock babies and old men doze on benches, their chins bobbing on rotund chests.

St. Eustache is Yves favorite Paris cathedral because of its musical and architectural tradition. Located near the Musee du Louvre on the Right Bank, St. Eustache was the French parochial and royal church from the 17th century until the French Revolution. Playwright Moliere and politician Cardinal Richelieu were baptized on its altar. Louis XIV's First Holy Communion was celebrated here, as were the funerals of poet La Fontaine and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's mother, Anna Marie.

Compared to Notre Dame, St. Eustache is much brighter inside and virtually empty of tourists. This makes it easy to view the hybrid of architectural styles represented in this cathedral built from 1532 to 1640. Grotesque gargoyles perch upon the Gothic exterior. Inside, the cathedral's decoration illustrates the transition from Gothic to more exuberant, flourishing Renaissance style. The cavernous nave's arched ceiling looks like a massive, charred rack of ribs. While the cathedral is undergoing a painstaking restoration, its original 8,000 pipe organ has been completely restored. The cathedral's free classical music concerts held every Sunday afternoon are ěmagnifique," said Yves.

The square surrounding the cathedral was the site of Les Halles, Paris's central fruit and vegetable market started under Napoleon III's reign in the mid 19th century. Once called "the stomach of Paris" where French gastronomic art began, the market operated until 1969 when the tottering iron and steel pavilion was torn down. Many locals consider Les Halles the true birthplace of the cheese encrusted version of French onion soup loved world-wide. During high school and university, Yves worked nights at Les Halles uncrating produce for extra money. His shift ended with a hearty bowl of onion soup.

In the Les Halles shopping district, the Bistro Les Petits Carreaux on rue des Petits Carreaux serves a time-honored, onion soup capped with crusty bread and nutty, bubbling Gruyere cheese.

While the Les Halles district is historically the stomach of Paris, the Marais is the city's heart. The Marais is the oldest section of Paris dating back to the 14th century when it was the site of French King Charles Vís court. In 1789 the French Revolution began here when the Bastille prison was stormed. Fortunately, 19th century, urban visionary Haussmann overlooked its run-down, twisted streets. Today, the former Jewish ghetto pulses with a timeless historic-hip vibe. Restored 17th and early 18th century buildings house apartments, small museums, Jewish delis, restaurants and eclectic stores. Shopping the artsy boutiques is especially fun in June when sales are common. The sprawling stone mansions of the Marais, called hutels particuliers, were once homes to aristocratic families. Most now house specialized museums, such as the Musee National Picasso on rue de Thorigny. The former Hutel Sale's rooms are filled with paintings, ceramics and sculptures from every stage of Picassoís career. Note that these multi-floored, rambling mansions have lots of stairs; few, if any elevators; and are not air conditioned.

Musee Carnavalet is the free, must-see Paris history museum.

Located on rue de Sevigne near pretty place des Vosges, the museum occupies two palatial, 17th century mansions. Its vast collections of artworks and artifacts from Gallo-Roman to modern times show the daily life of Parisians. Beautiful, iconographic shopkeepers' signs market their services as effectively today as centuries ago. A robust pink pig represents a butcher; giant scissors for a tailor. Exquisite dishware, furniture and clothing in 18th century, vignette room settings recreate the royals' lifestyle. Portraits of aristocracy, cabaret dancers, politicians and soldiers in battle record the city's everyday life and landmark events. Napoleon's wartime toilet kit and death mask are displayed. It's worth climbing three staircases to see the priceless French Revolution artifacts including a Bastille prison uniform, rope ladder used for escape and guillotine.

After hours at Musee Carnavalet, a walk along the Seine cleared our heads. From mid-July to end of August, more than a mile of the Right Bank literally becomes what locals call "Paris Beach." From Quai Henri IV to Quai du Louvre, the George Pompidou expressway is covered with sand and studded with potted palm trees.

As we crossed Pont Louis Phillipe to Ile St. Louis, a river bus passed beneath packed with uniformed school children who waved wildly yelling "au revoir." We wandered the tiny island's narrow, swank streets whose apartments are the city's most exclusive. Open, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed grand salons with embellished, gold-leafed plaster ceilings.

The island's shops are equally haute. Bertillon's ice cream is pricey, but a luscious lick. We stopped at Lafitte, a family-run gourmet food purveyor for over 85 years, on rue Jean du Bellay. They have free foie gras and wine tastings on weekends. I bought duck and goose foie gras for a taste of Paris to savor at home in Chicago. Walking hand-in-hand, we dreamed of being ex pats living like pure Parisians, like our friend Yves.

For more information on experiencing Paris like a local, visit these websites: www.parisinfo.com; www.discoverfrance.net; and www.france.net.

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