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...