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Published: December 2nd 2007
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paris view
looking from the ferris wheel at the Louvre toward the Sacre Couer. Bon jour to one and all! The following entry will attempt to convey our time in Paris. Upon arrival we discovered that there had been an ongoing rail strike in Paris for a number of weeks or months. We found a bus, a connection to the Metro (subway) and made it to our tiny and perfect little apartment. It was a great joy to discover that our little place was up a quiet road and just a couple hundred meters to the steps of the Sacre Couer Cathedral. We continually realized our blessing as we saw how easily we could have been stuck in a horn-blaring, party frenzy of a place. There was a fish market (neighborhood) just a few blocks away which would have been an even more flagrant locale. Each day we strode up the 141 steps to the cathedral looked out on the city and said "tell us what we are doing today, Paris"
Upon waking our first morning, we began to do what we came for: relentlessly walk this amazing city. Montmartre, Opera, Tuilleries, Notre Dame, the Left Bank and all the small and delicious side streets and distractions along the way. More of the same
paris wheel
nice ride, great view the next couple days. Each day after our feet and legs became soggy we would jump on a metro train (those that were running were free due to the strike) head home and crumple into the bed. We were never rained upon although the preliminary forecast had been for rain every day of our trip. There was a shower one night as we slept and another while we "museumed", but to our exuberance, never a drop upon our heads.
My philosophy of touring Paris is to be like a goldfish and gobble one tasty morsel after another until death. I managed to survive the first day and the whole week, but it was close and the buttons on my pants are considering legal action. Christine prefers the sit-down bite, but would usually be convinced to nibble on a baguette with chevre, torte, chocolate truffle or croissant with a cafe au lait; around noon she would convince me to sit somewhere for lunch then off again for rambling and noshing.
As the days passed, we attempted with increasing courage to work in a little of the Francaise that we had been learning from library Cd's. We managed alright, but
above the champs
looking toward the arch de triumph (from ferris wheel) it seems that our course was focused within a rather specific set of parameters. Much of the French we learned was along the line of: "would you like to eat/drink something", "can I buy you a glass of wine/beer", "would you like to go to this (or that) restaurant", "at which hotel are you staying?", "would you like to come back to my place?!?" Chez moi? We probably knew enough to get laid, but were a bit foggy when trying to ask about a certain food or the price of such and such or directions.
By midweek we finally broke down and bought a two-day museum pass. Doing this had the effect of changing our joyful meandering into a structured march through many of the City's finest collections. We started at D'Orsay, made it to the Rodin, the Picasso, a couple more and finished the second evening by closing the Modern Art museum at the Pompadou Centre. This finale (around 9pm) was fitting as we both felt like clay-mation figures with heads overflowing cheese-whiz, clomping through the last few Pollack's and Picasso's. Museums are lovely in moderation.
Thinking of the week I keep coming back to the
chillin'
near the opera food. All of the wonderful sights of Paris are individually majestic and collectively awe-inspiring. The beauty is in being there and can't be conveyed. So too with the food, but more, it is like the song that the city sings. Each little patisserie singing forth in high notes of custard, glazed fruit, pastel macarons, and crisp croissants; the boulangerie overflowing with bass notes of batard, levain, and baugutte; charcuterie specialty shops wafting out the smells of golden herbed rottisserie poulet like viola; wine bottles stacked in caves ringing out the accent notes; the crescendo of flesh at the boucherie; and what can I even say about one hundred types of cheese from orange to black, rock-hard to crumbly. This city just begs to be tasted in every way.
Sorry if we missed some individual responses, we're happy that so many people have joined our blog. In a way you are all here with us! Love T (and Christine who will dispatch from Mumbai)
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Marilyn
non-member comment
Happy to be sharing your journey
How fun fun fun! I have been to Paris 2 times many years ago. I love seeing you both in the great pictures. MORE pictures! Can't wait until your next entry. Thanks so much for including me I love you both! Marilyn~Santa Cruz