a Parisian Saturday

One last day in France. One last day in Paris. Yes, I am always so very happy to be going home. Retired people have that luxury of not having work start the next day. I like my doggie, child-filled, Ed hangin' in there world! And yet, there's always the feeling of wistfulness. A good French adventure, coming to an end. No matter how many pillows and pitchers and plates I bring home, they wont put Paris on my couch or table. Vows to read more French, to study in greater detail the art, the cuisine once I'm back -- they're like intentions you set in a yoga session. Goal posts to give continuity and meaning to your travels once you've returned, at the same time that you know much of it will float away into thin air as you busy yourself with being home.

Snowdrop and I were lucky. Our first day in Nice was drizzly, but thereafter, the sun came through for us every single day. Even in Paris, albeit with a few clouds and a chilly wind. Today, the rain predictions fizzled once again. A light sprinkle from a passing cloud. Nothing more.Clouds, yes, but with a burst of occasional sunshine, a breeze that properly belongs to March. Good walking weather.

And so we shall walk. After breakfast of course. (The girl polishes off 5 croissants in addition to her cereal. You'd think I'd been starving her!)

Afterwards --  a most disconcerting hour on the phone with Air France -- the vendor of our tickets for this trip. I called because last night I got locked out of my account. The agent said -- good thing you called, you seem to not be on the list of passengers for tomorrows flight (home).

Say what??

This has never happened to me before and they offered no good explanation for it, but for some reason we got cancelled out. They of course blamed Delta. In any case, they needed to rebook us, on a different flight no less. What was most disagreeable about the whole thing was the fact that it took forever to set the record straight. We did not leave le Baume until 11 a.m. and this set our day on a treadmill that I would have liked to have avoided.

I discussed walking options with Snowdrop. She wants to aim for the Eiffel Tower. It's a frequent goal for us in part because it is such a nice walk. You can take it all by the river, you can weave your way through the quiet neighborhoods, or you can do a combination of both. Or you can get all crazy about your schedule and rush from one end of the city to the next. Guess which path was ours today!

And yet, it is one lovely walk. 

 

 

 

The highs were obvious. We made it all the way to the Eiffel Tower, stopping along the way at this place and that. A splendid walk and of course, the views at the end were so ... unmistakably Parisian!

Here's the issue though: I purchased tickets to the Musee d'Orsay for 1 p.m. It's hard to guess two weeks in advance exactly when you're likely to be not too far from the museum on that day, but I had to decide, because a new exhibition had just gone up, and this one I knew about well in advance. So I chose 1p.m., figuring that we'd be done with whatever morning routine we had chosen that day and perhaps, too, it wouldn't be too crowded because all of France eats lunch between 1 and 2. 

All that was good reasoning, but the walk from the Eiffel Tower to the Orsay is not short. We had to gallop to make it in time for our booked slot. Too, it was to be the day of grumpy people. Grumpy French patron of the arts with his dumb pony tail (I'm being unkind, I take it back) telling us not to rush. He hadn't a reserved ticket, we, on the other hand ,had to fit into our slot. 

But here's a real high: the special exhibit at the Orsay on Renoir and love is exquisite! Absolutely fabulous! 

(is the dog Renoir's Toto or is it Millie?)

One of my favorites ever. It brought the joy in his art right to the forefront, and of course there was plenty of information about paintings that I'd studied before but knew little about except that they were very fine and lovely to look at.

(each person in the painting identified, explained...)

(Renoir's daughters: "the younger one is only a year older than me!")

Once we finished our walk through the Renoir halls, we decided to give at least a handful of minutes to the Impressionists on the 5th floor. It's just fun to be there, especially if you dont have an agenda.

 

I asked her about lunch then and she was hungry enough to vote for Cafe Varenne, where she knew there'd be fries at the very least. 

Cafe Varenne has never disappointed me. I go there every time I am in Paris and 99% of the time it is just perfect.

Today fit nicely into the 1%. Oh, the food was just fine. She loved her filet of sea bass and fries. My white asparagus was a bit mushy and the poached eggs were variously ready for consumption, but good enough. And still, for the first time in all the decades I've been going there, the waiter was one big grump. He didn't like that we switched tables (with permission). He didn't like that I preferred an appetizer serving of the asparagus (I reluctantly switched to the bigger portion). He didn't like that we were in the path of "delivery" when we waited to have the passage way to the toilettes unblocked (we left). In all, he was disagreeable possibly because he was who he was -- a person who felt tired after an exceptionally busy lunch period. 

It would be ridiculous to give up on the Varenne after one bad waiter day. Totally ridiculous. And yet, I felt that I had maxed out my repeat visits here. It's not close to where I stay. Even though I am such a regular, I'm not in their eyes a regular. It's always crowded at lunchtime. It's too big a meal and too expensive to fit into the lunch budget. The pleasure has always been in watching the place hum so perfectly. Without the that special hum, it's just another good cafe/restaurant in Paris. 

From there, we went to the food halls once again. Just for the fruit. And then finally to our hotel room. But not for long! Snowdrop really really really wanted to go to the Luxembourg Gardens playground. It closes in late afternoon so I barely got a chance to throw down packages and we were out again. 

I'll admit that being in the Gardens on a Saturday afternoon in good (enough) weather is pleasant. We strolled to the climbing structures, she tried them out once again, commenting that soon her age will preclude her from using them (it's for kids up to 12, though violators abound). It hit me then that she is that old already. Wow. Considering that her cousin turns 8 today (Happiest Birthday, Primrose!!!), I have kids all around me that are really growing fast.

Our last dinner? Her choice. She wanted Les Editeurs, she got Les Editeurs. We've eaten so well that had she chosen a dessert crepe for dinner I would have gone along. 

(Les Editeurs: packed, inside and out...)

And home, to our room on the fourth floor this time. Repacking everything is one big chore, but I do it always with an eye to where we will next have these suitcases -- back in Madison, where maybe, just maybe the first daffodils will be opening up.

with so much love... 

a Parisian Friday

We have two full days in Paris. It seemed fine when I booked our trip, it seems a little short now. I feel that the perfect stay would have a day without an agenda, where you follow your nose and your heart and see what comes of it. Though perhaps with Snowdrop, I am more likely to have at least one place in mind for every single day -- a museum or a neighborhood or a park, depending on the weather. 

I had asked her early on if there's a place she'd like to go back to and she voted for the Orangerie with the Monet lilies. Wonderful. We'll aim for that right after breakfast.

 

Breakfast at the Baume. It's not a buffet so it requires a commitment in advance. It takes her a day of hits and misses before she settles on a combination that works for her. On this trip, it's cocoa puffs and croissants and a bit of orange juice. You could argue that I should push for something more nutritious. I would answer  -- hey, she's eating breakfast. I've seen her have days where she'd just as soon skip the whole thing. But at the Baume, you can count on her downing three croissants without a hesitation.

We set out on our walk to the Orangerie. Brisk, because it is a chilly morning. I almost wish we had gone one level up in terms of jacket warmth. A high of 53F/11C today. Slightly cooler tomorrow. But rain-free!

(what's blooming at the Tuileries)

 

 

The lines are surprisingly long, though we have timed tickets, so we can budge the big line. I hadn't realized that a new exhibition went up just two days ago (that's how out of it I was this winter -- I missed the Matisse and I missed this one too). The focus here is on the paintings of Henri Rousseau -- another post-Impressionist! I'm not especially smitten with his art, but it is so incredibly recognizable that I think it's worth taking in with Snowdrop. But first, her favorite -- the Monet lilies.

So beautiful, no matter how many times you see them. 

And the Rousseau exhibit? Very interesting!

(a young artist, with her own impression)

 

 

I think for Snowdrop as well. 

I'd say it was a worthwhile coincidence.

 

When we come out of the Orangerie, the girl wants to head straight for the merry-go-round.

 

 

 

 (same ticket guy, making same cotton candy)

 

 

 

 

 

We're right next to the Tuilerie playground. Not too old! (With ample comments about "pushy boys!") 

 

 

 

And I see that we are not too far from Smith & Son (the bookstore). Perhaps she'd like a new book? 

You have to stick to your guns with her -- Snowdrop always asks for many books, not all of them ones you'd like her to be reading. She tells me that in fifth grade, teachers aren't fussy -- they applaud you if you like to read any books. And really, I can hardly blame her for liking all those graphic novels that she has accumulated. I loved books that were of questionable value when I was her age. Her vocabulary is beyond the beyond, so why fret about the fact that all the conversations come in bubble format?

And now we have one of our typical walks that take us from one place to the next:

Across the Seine again... 

 

 

 

... along the Boulevard St Germain, up rue du Bac. Past coffee shops with dogs...

 

 

 

Past the Cafe Varenne (we're not hungry yet, unfortunately), into the sweet shop (she wants nougats), up to La Grande Epicerie -- the food hall that looks fabulously tempting, especially before a major holiday (Easter). We're not here for the sweet stuff. I need some good fruit for her, and other small things from my shopping list.

She's getting tired now and so am I! When are we ever going to sit down? 

 

 

Not yet. Another quick stop at Petit Bateau, another pause at a jewelry store that always speaks to me when I am here (the goal is just to look!). 

She is hungry and wants lunch. Considering yesterday's miserable excuse for a midday meal, I cant blame her for wanting to go to Les Editeurs -- a place where she loves many foods, not the least of which are the fries.

(waiting, reading)

Just one more stop, I tell her. For coffee at the small cafe that opened up a couple of years ago on the same square as Les Editeurs.

And home. Despite the coffee, I am sleepy as can be.  It's the weather! And the exercise! And the feeling of total relaxation. 

Dinner? I take Snowdrop to the nearby Marcello. I had liked it back in January and I thought after all that fish, she'd be ready for Italian. And she is. Amazing how such a small menu can hit all the right spots for her. Mixed fried seafood to start with, linguini with clams for her main course. She eats the clams ravenously and when the waiter grates lots of cheese for her on the remaining pasta, she is in seventh heaven. 

 

 

And here's a surprise -- just around the corner, we'd found an Amorino ice cream shop. Just a hop's throw from our hotel. 

 

 

 

 

 

It's always impressive to me how many people are out enjoying this spring evening. It's a cool evening and yet, the place is full of people, enjoying the outdoors as if it were July (except that in July, they'd likely not be here, but on their annual grandes vacances. Enjoying themselves then too. I live now in a new-ish housing development back home. Dozens, no, hundreds of homes, apartments, townhouse, and we are lucky to have that one cafe nearby -- Tati's. Last time I went there around lunch time it was empty. And much to the chagrin of my kids, it closes at 3, so they can never visit it after school for a treat, for ice cream. What happened to our communities anyway? Or were we always like this?

 

 

Tomorrow's our last day here. It always feels so odd to think that a few days back we were still in Madison, waiting to take off. And now here we are, dazzled by days of sunshine in Nice, saturated with the joy and sweet comfort of being in our special corner of Paris. 

with so much love... 

to Paris

We wake up to a cloudy day. Oh, Nice is slated to have plenty of sunshine in the days ahead. Lovely temperatures as well -- certainly nicer than what we will have in Paris, but still, it does feel like the skies have shut their doors, at least temporarily, to all that sunshine that was our friend for three days running.

It's good to leave a place right after breakfast. Those trips where I'd have half a day to explore before taking off were always unrewarding. I'd take that extra walk gauging the minutes, not really letting myself feel part of my surroundings anymore, thinking of the travel that was ahead. And so on this day too, I booked a flight to Paris that has us leaving our hotel shortly after breakfast.

(down the splendid stairs -- with a yawn!)

 

 

(a plate of favorites)

 

 

(a plate of favorites)

 

 

 (one last Negresco cappuccino)

 

 

Yes, booked a flight, which has to be strange, considering how much I love train rides. It's just that the train ride from Nice to Paris is just that much too long. Six and a half hours, and there's a change involved -- never great when you have lots of luggage and a kid to mind. Alone, you can miss your connection and figure out an alternative. With Snowdrop in tow, it becomes more of a headache. Besides, I've accumulated enough miles to give us a free flight. A little over an hour and we're in Paris.

Well, Paris airport -- not a favorite place to arrive at for sure. Splurging on a cab does you no favors: it's a very stop-and-go ride in afternoon traffic. I much prefer the commuter train (even when their are delays as today), so we make our way to it and eventually we are in the city...

 

 

 

(so green! so many interesting dogs!) 

 

 

... and walking to Le Baume hotel -- the incredibly lovely home of mine for all my trips to this city. The place where every minute is an exhale, a joy, a thrill really. I have my favorite two rooms -- I'll take either, they both have three big windows that look out on the street. They're both splendid.

(What happened to lunch today? Well, we helped ourselves to a couple of almond croissants from downstairs)

 

 

(Snowdrop and I always use the stairs when we leave; we've always admired the photos on the stairwell walls, but we'd never noticed that "Odette" was with a "petit chien" who looks remarkably like a dog we know back home)

 

This is when travel starts to be easy. No stress, no pressure. Walk this way, or that -- each direction brings a mix of the familiar with the new. How can you not love days here?!

I was surprised to read at the airport that one of the museums here is having a Matisse exhibition, featuring some of the better known work of his -- the lemons, for example, that have been feature prominently in my guest room, from farmhouse to the Edge, and now in Sally's House. It would be great to cap our Matisse exploration here in Paris, but I am actually too late. The exhibition is new and not surprisingly, all tickets for our dates are sold out.

We have other museum plans, but not for today. I unpack, we rest a bit, and then head out to the Luxembourg Gardens. Just to see what's blooming there now in March.

 

 

(we seek out the corner with daffodils... yes! they're here!)

 

 

Afterwards, we stop at a store to get pj's for Sandpiper. Dont ask -- it's a long story. 

We have a dinner reservation for 7 p.m. but we're right by our chosen restaurant a half hour before that. As luck would have it, they're one of those places where they dont close between lunch and dinner. I can count such restaurants here on the fingers of one hand, and yet here we are, at Seulement Sea, at 6:30 and it's open. She loves this place for its oysters and fish and chips. It's one of those reliable eateries that wont cost a fortune and will deliver fresh seafood every time. 

We walk back with our jackets zipped to our chins! It's nippy in Paris! Just 50F/10C at its peak. Some would say -- well, that's entirely reasonable for March. And it is, though Paris has had warmer days on Spring Break. But I have no complaints! We were to have rain all days here -- now the weather people are changing their minds. And in any case, I have said this too often -- rain in Paris is fine. Interesting even. A little awkward if you walk the more populated streets, but I have very many quite corners in the city, where no one will feel an umbrella bump. 

We are home. 

 

 

 

Back in our room again. Warm, quiet, beautiful. Content. At peace.

with so much love...