VERSAILLES AND ON
Thursday 10/5/06 – Friday 10/6/06

During our planning stage, this was a day we didn’t really know how to fill. Should we just kill a day soaking in the ambiance of Paris or do something special. We finally opt for special, and Versailles is really special. To get to Versailles we have to catch an RER (suburban) train and to do that we have to walk back to the St. Michel station. We hit the Starbucks for big coffees to go and as we are walking down the street sipping, an old woman comes by on a bike mimicking our sipping and shaking her fist at us. Obviously in some circles one doesn’t drink their coffee on the street.

The ride to Versailles takes about 30 minutes and, after a bit of confusion about how to pay after the fact, the walk to the Palace takes another ten minutes. It is another gorgeous day and this seems like a pleasant little town. The first view of the Palace is daunting. How big is it? Louis XIV built this place in the 1600s because he didn’t like his Paris digs which we now refer to as the Louvre. He used Versailles to consolidate his government and nobility in one place where he could keep an eye on it and them. At any one time there would be as many as 5,000 nobles in residence in the Palace and many times that number running around with meals, carriages and messages. 300 years ago the main entry to the Palace was always crowded with people coming and going and others selling things. That’s how we found it today.

France in the late 1600s was the center of the universe, and the cultural elite throughout the world prided themselves on speaking French and being smiled upon by King Louis. As we enter the Palace we are guided through multiple halls strewn with period works of art and mannequins reenacting social gatherings. What an unbelievable world that must have been in its heyday. We move from one salon to the next, each with its own style, carvings and décor fitting for the home of the Sun King. The Hall of Mirrors is 250 feet long with 17 arched mirrors reflecting the view of the gardens from 17 matching arched windows. There are 24 gilded candelabras that must have been very impressive and maybe a little smoky when everything was lit for a big party. The Queen’s chambers seem a little open to us, but considering that all royal offspring had to be born in public to ensure their heritage, there probably weren’t too many secrets.

We tumble out into the gardens and, with the Palace behind us, the view down the Royal Drive is breathtaking. It is a couple of miles to the end of the formal garden area in front of us and that includes hundreds of statues, dozens of ponds and a mile long grand canal. As we walk the length of the gardens we are mesmerized by the tamed perfection and the zillions of man hours spent making it look like this for the past three hundred years. At the end of the garden we veer to the right to the Grand Trianon where the King could get away from the hustle and bustle of the big house. Louis XIV would use it a couple nights a week, but the later Louies (XV and XVI) spent increasing amounts of time here. A short walk from here is the Petit Trianon which XV built as a botany center. When XVI married Marie-Antoinette, she used it as her hideout.

During the revolution when Louis XVI and bride Marie had a little taken “off the top,” the palace was looted and fell into disrepair until Napoleon laid claim to the place. If the folks didn’t like a King, perhaps an Emperor would be OK. Napoleon later gave the whole operation to the people of France to preserve forever.

Leaving the Palace we walk into the Village of Versailles looking for lunch, and a fellow who speaks no English is able to direct four people who speak no French to the place they are looking for. We find Ala Cote Bretonne in an alley near a commercial square and we are just in time to get lunch before they close. This is a “Creperie” so we all get one form of crepe or another, a couple sweet and a couple savory.

It is getting to be late afternoon when we arrive back on our turf and the mood is a little melancholy. We take one last stroll around the neighborhood trying to absorb the last ounce of the place. There are wonderful fruit and vegetable shops, a butcher’s window where ducks are spinning on a rotisserie while the fat drips down into a tray of potatoes, shiny tortes and sugary pastries are everywhere and huge wheels of cheese can be found on every corner.

At 5:00 we grab our last hurrah at Pub St. Germain. It’s martinis all around with pictures and laughter whether there is anything funny or not. We even find ourselves nodding along with the euro-techno-trash music. When we wear out our welcome here we walk down to Jardins Germain for our “last supper.” We sip our wine and enjoy our food and try to figure out how this week disappeared so fast. We can’t think of a second that we didn’t enjoy, even the old lady on the bike.

It’s getting late and we have busy days tomorrow. One last walk down Boulevard St. Germain, two more blocks on crazy le Buci and into our hotel with one last shout of our room numbers in French. Our night clerk is nice enough to snap one last group photo and we’re done. The trip ends like it began—hug, hug, see you at home.

Dave & Mary are out early so that they have plenty of time to get lost on their way to the airport and so they do. No problem. They get reoriented and find the airport with time to spare. John & Mary have a little time to take one more walk this morning before catching the Metro to the Gare du Nord station. With a little help from a security lady they get to their check-in spot and catch the Eurostar to London. The train goes whizzing past the airport and with a couple of waves out the window this adventure comes to an end.

Adieu!

THE LEFT BANK
Wednesday 10/4/06

We are all pretty tired from our running around so we just decide to stay in bed all day today. Just kidding! We start with an early amble down past Paul’s for coffee and pastries and we are now proud that we can do business there. We take a new street that angles northwest towards the Seine and past interesting looking antique shops and art stores. It is a bright sunny morning so we grab this opportunity to snap a few romantic pictures along the river.

Our mission this morning is the Musee d’Orsay that houses the works of the period during which Paris was the center of the art world. Our pass gets us easily into the special entrance and we grab a map and step quickly into the mid-1800s. The Orsay begins where the Louvre ends. We are now in the center of the French neo-classical style which reproduces on canvas much of the Greek statuary we saw Monday. Naked ladies and cherubs abound in upright and laid flat poses with pitchers and swirling garments galore.

Dave and John like the naked ladies but we move into a more interesting period of realism and the works of very recognizable names such as Courbet and Manet. The artists have become a little friskier here and their style is taunting and somewhat cartoonish in its style, poking fun at the big shots of their society. Instead of Greek and Roman gods or biblical heroes, the subjects are now working folks at their daily tasks or in situations familiar to everyone.

We transition from the realists to the impressionists and we find works by Whistler (yes, his mom), Degas, Renoir and Monet. Apparently when the camera was invented, the art world swung away from realistic portrayals which they assumed a photograph would trump, and on to more flair and dash in their work. The K’s try desperately to educate the Z’s in the intricacies of the impressionist art form with limited success, but all agree that there are a lot of pretty pictures.

We wrap up with the post-impressionists and now every artist and every painting is familiar. There are dozens of paintings by Van Gogh, Cezanne, Rousseau, Gaugin, and Toulouse-Lautrec. Perhaps because of the familiarity or the evolution of styles, we all find the Orsay to be more entertaining than the Louvre. We take a final stroll through the Grand Ballroom with astounding statues by Rodin among others.

Once again we are into early afternoon with more work ahead. We walk a block or two south and find a crowded café that the locals seem to like so we squeeze into an upstairs table for a quick bite. We once again are able to get what we want and pay appropriately. We’re now almost Parisians.

We hop on the Metro at the Orsay station and ride a couple of stops to the “Tour Eiffel” station. As we walk up to street level and follow the signs we get a great view through the trees of the tower rising in front of us. This is a pretty spectacular setting and the tower is actually bigger than we might think. It soars up over 1,000 feet and weighs over 7,000 tons even though it is a hollow ornament by design. Built for the World’s Fair of 1889 is serves no purpose other than to impress the masses. The French are apparently indifferent to the structure and one Parisian said he likes to eat in the restaurant there so he doesn’t have to look at it. The Z’s decide to pay a few euros to ride up to the middle observation deck for a view of the city, while the K’s decide that a park bench and pigeons look more inviting than the long lines. Both think they made the right decision after the fact.

We are now in the 7th arrondissement and with the sun still shining we decide to start walking back to the hotel. The park stretching southeast from the Tower (the Champ de Mars) is a bit like the Washington Mall and we follow that to the end with frequent neck swivels to catch new views of the Tower. Our walk takes us past the “Invalides,” a hospital built by Napoleon for his injured troops and still operating like a VA hospital today. We get a peek at the Rodin museum which is now closed but still has visible statuary in the exterior garden. Mary Z. does the sensible thing at this point and grabs a Metro back to the hotel for a nap while the other three warriors soldier on by foot. This part of the city houses many of the national and city governmental offices so the similarity to Washington DC continues. We eventually work our way back to Boulevard St. Germain and finish our late afternoon walk down this very lovely avenue. The K’s stop at our neighborhood grocery on le Buci while John joins Mary Z. in slumberland.

Tonight is our big splurge for dinner. Yes, one of the big time fancy Paris restaurants. After much searching we have decided on “Taillevent” based not only on the quality of the food, but also because of the reputation of the restaurateur. Taillevent was founded in 1946 by Andre Vrinat and he was joined in the business by his son Jean-Claude in 1962. Jean Claude, now in his 80’s still shows up for work most nights and the day to day operation is handled by his daughter Valerie. They have been awarded three Michelin stars (the highest) every year since 1973.

Our front desk babe gets us a cab at 7:00 for our 7:30 reservation and we have a pleasant ride through traffic and across the Champs Elysees to the restaurant. Valerie greets us at the door and our waiter, dressed in a business suit, is quick to get us martinis and explain the menu. During our dinner our waiter brings over Jean-Claude for introductions and we ooh and aah over his reputation in the industry. After we finish our Crème brulee de foie gras de canard, Epeautre du pays de sault en risotto, Rouget-barber peole, Selle d‘agneau princier en rognonnade, Chevre frais, Oeuf-neige aux fruits rouges, and Plaet au chocolat caraibe et a la verveine, our waiter brings a bottle of 25 year old cognac and four glasses, complements of Monsieur Vrinat, and tells us to enjoy as much as we like. On our way out Valerie asks us to wait because Jean Claude would like to say good-bye and it is hugs all around. Yeah, it was an OK place.

Our cab drops us at our hotel and we walk to the river and watch the lights twinkle on the Eiffel Tower before heading off to bed. Was this the best day yet? Hard to tell.

NORMANDY
Tuesday 10/3/06

This is way too early to be up after our full day yesterday. We are gathering shortly after 5:00 AM, bleary eyed and grumpily quiet, for our day trip to the D-Day battle sites of Northwestern France. Right away we find that our luck remains (SFL). As we enter our little Odeon Metro station we find that the exit gate is broken and open so we can just walk in and ride free across the city. Whoopee!

There is one change at the Les Halles station from our “magenta” line to the purple line that will get us to the St. Lazare station. There are several major railway stations around the city and the St. Lazare station serves the northwestern quadrant of the country. It is also the scene of a pretty cool painting by Toulouse Lautrec but that’s another story. We arrive with plenty of time to spare for our 7:00 AM train to Bayeaux and in fact consider grabbing an earlier train but think better of it and grab a coffee instead.

It is still mostly dark and chilly as we pull out and travel through sprawling suburbs. There are two million people in Paris, but 11 million in the metropolitan area so it is a long haul to reach the countryside. The K’s pull out their cheese and apples and the Z’s counter with bananas and yogurt and we all wake up with some sunlight and breakfast. The land here is gently rolling with small farms and little towns. It would be fun to poke around a bit in the countryside but that will have to wait for another trip.

We reach the Bayeaux station right on schedule at 9:25 where we are met by our smiling guide Roel (pronounced Rule he explains) Klinkhamer. After introductions all around, we load into his van of undetermined make and take off for our first stop in Arromanches. We chat a bit on the ride and he explains that he is a lifetime World War II buff who has lived most of his life in Belgium. He sold his McDonald’s operation (no kidding) a few years back and took advantage of European Union rules to retire in France. He started the tour operation and his wife runs their four room B&B. He tells us that he has guided many veterans who had actually participated in the D-Day invasion and has garnered a lot of first hand accounts to supplement his historical perspective. He also says he doesn’t identify crops in case we were wondering what they grow around here.

Arromanches is a little seaside village that was the home of the Mulberry Harbor used to land thousands of vehicles and hundreds of thousands troops in the months following the invasion. The Allies were unable to capture a port on the coast and were forced to build an artificial harbor by sinking tons of concrete and building miles of floating roads. This was manned by British forces and was known as Port Winston. Standing on a small rise slightly above beach level we can still see the remnants of the concrete breakwater and jetties. What an operation.

We travel 3 miles down the coast now to the German Battery positions at Longues sur mer. The gun bunkers are still in position 215 feet above the beach with a clear view of the entire coast. Before the invasion the allies had been bombing this emplacement for over 6 months with 1500 tons of bombs dropped the week before the invasion. Still the German troops were able to manage a ferocious counterattack on D-Day until finally being silenced by fire from French, British and American ships. The area is still pocked with the results of the constant bombardment.

Our next stop is Omaha Beach. This is a 5-mile long stretch of sand several hundred yards across and edged by a bluff over a hundred feet high. This beach was to be secured to link the Brits on one end to the Americans on Utah Beach. The Germans, commanded by Erwin Rommel had pledged to stop any invasion at the water and a series of mines and obstacles extended hundreds of yards into the ocean. If anyone actually reached the beach they would be pulverized by the German troops on top of the bluff. Thousands of American troops died on this beach on June 6th, 1944. Our friend Bob Uppgaard was a medic on that landing team and he vividly remembers the day and moving inland to the church at Colleville sur Mer. Mary K. scooped up some sand from the beach and we stopped for a picture at the church to take home to Bob.

We move to the U. S. Cemetery at Colleville where Roel gives us a half hour to just wander and soak up the spirituality of the place. This is U.S. soil and is maintained by our government. The cemetery is right on top of the bluff at the water’s edge and is the final resting place of almost 10,000 of our soldiers. It is very peaceful and we all take a while to wander separately.

Our final tour stop is La Pointe du Hoc, a cliff-top location about 4 miles from Omaha Beach. This was the site of another German battery that was silently assaulted by American Rangers who scaled the cliff wall only to find that the battery had been moved inland. Not to worry. They went inland, found the battery (which was concentrated on Utah Beach) and destroyed it anyway. They then held out through several days of counterattacks before finally being relieved.

We had a chatty half-hour drive to Caen as Roel had promised to drop us at the D-Day Memorial there It was a great connection and we really felt like we had become friends during the day. It was already mid-afternoon, way past our scheduled half-day tour, so we grabbed a sandwich, looked at a couple of lobby displays and decided to pass on the rest of the museum. It had started to rain outside but we were able to catch a taxi across the street and he got us across town to the station.

We catch an earlier than scheduled train but it would still be evening by the time we get back to Paris. We are all a little dozy interspersed with a little silly on the train, obviously the result of lack of sleep and a fascinating day. Today’s trip is the only request Dave has for our week-long schedule so we are all grateful that he brought us along.

A couple of train changes and we’re back on our left bank turf to grab a bite of dinner, a glass of wine and sleep like babies.

IMMERSED IN CULTURE
Monday 10/2/06

Today we shall delve into the world of the art and architecture of Paris as we explore the past and present. First is the lesson Mary K. gives us on the proper use of the bidet as a foot bath. At least it’s not a drinking fountain. We now also use our vast experience to send the girls to Starbucks for coffee and the boys to Paul’s for pastries. With the chores properly divided we meet successfully back in the hotel lobby for breakfast.

We’re back across the Pont Neuf this morning for our visit to the Louvre, less than a ten minute walk from our hotel. Using the museum passes we picked up yesterday we are able to bypass the lengthy ticket and security lines by using the “group” entrance down an escalator away from the main entrance. The Louvre is the largest museum in the world and houses more than 30,000 works dating from Adam and Eve to about 1850. We grab a map at the entry and, following earlier advice, we head directly to the Mona Lisa. She is hanging out at the end of a large gallery along with many of her contemporaries and we are able to snuggle right up to the velvet ropes just a few feet from the lovely lady. She seems pleased to see us.

Where does one begin to describe the level of talent and expression housed here? Every piece deserves to be in this hall of fame and every artist a superstar. The K’s have promised the Z’s an abbreviated art lesson and the Z’s have promised not to chew gum and burp. The museum is divided among major historic art periods, the earliest western version being the B.C. Greek collection. Our star here is the Venus de Milo who is mesmerizing in her topless-armless style. As we move from wing to wing, we appropriately pass Winged Victory a number of times. This is the tougher iron-pumping version of Venus who has been relishing ancient victories for about 2500 years.

Not to be outdone, the Romans have their assortment of Caesars and Etruscans. The Italian theme continues through the Renaissance with a little Botticelli here and Raphael there with some more of Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo thrown in for good measure. The French take over in the late 1700’s after the King got whacked and the major piece is the Coronation of Napoleon by Jacques-Louis David that depicts this major event and all the participants. Virtually every painting is familiar to some part of our brains and the process is overwhelming.

There are other corners of ancient Oriental, Egyptian, and Middle-Eastern carvings but we are all wearing down. A month would not be enough time to do it justice so we will be happy with our highlights. There is a tourism office in the main lobby where we hope to buy SNCF rail tickets for tomorrow, but they are closed today. Ah, the French. It is early afternoon and we make our way through the underground “Carrousel du Louvre,” a shopping mall that connects the museum to the rue de Rivoli Metro station, and grab a bite of lunch along the way.

We hop on the Metro Yellow Line and zip up to the Charles de Gaulle station (the “Chuck”) where we walk up the stairs and into the shadow of the Arc de Triomphe. The arch is 165 feet high and sits in the middle of the mother of all traffic roundabouts with four lanes going around counterclockwise like a NASCAR race. The Arch was built in honor of Napoleon whipping the Austrians and has all the appropriate carvings befitting the champ.

There is a tunnel that goes under the roadway to get you to the center without getting killed and then for a price you can walk the 284 steps up to the top for a spectacular view of the city. We decide to go for it and discover that the stairway is a 3-foot wide spiral going straight up with interesting gyrations whenever you meet someone coming down. About two-thirds of the way up is a museum which is under construction during our visit with only a few murals but a good place to rest. Oh, and by the way, the stairway going to the top is also closed so if you are interested in the view you are out of luck. Perhaps someone told us that, but how would we know. Back down we go.

We stroll down Champs-Elysees, the most Parisian of all Paris boulevards and gape wide-eyed and open mouthed at the sights. Here is where the big stores, the big hotels, and the fancy shops all live. This is New York’s Fifth Avenue on steroids. We spot a SNCF sticker on the window of a travel agency and decide this is the right spot to get our train tickets for tomorrow. This could be a modeling agency instead of a travel agency since all of the “agents” are babes. John plops down in front of the youngest and prettiest and asks if she speaks English. “No.” No Problem. We need quatre billets to Bayeaux tomorrow at 7:00 AM, returning from Caen in the evening. Blank stares. Now all of the models, er agents, are coming to the rescue and we are pointing at maps and clocks and finally get the transaction completed. John apologizes for his incompetence and Dave said he could have sat and watched all afternoon.

We continue down the Boulevard until we all decide we’re toast. There is a little rain falling and we grab a metro at the FDR station and get off across the bridge from our hotel. After a nap break we get to round two of Pub St. Germain. Now that it is Monday we discover that even in Paris there are weekday happy hours with €5 martinis. Perfect! We have an early wake-up tomorrow so we walk across St. Germain and up the block to a little bistro for an early and easy dinner.

Perhaps we could have done more today, but none of us could imagine how.

ALL CHURCHES, ALL THE TIME
Sunday 10/1/06

France is a Catholic country so when in Rome….. We are attending a Gregorian Mass this morning at Notre Dame. While wandering the streets in our neighborhood we spotted a Starbucks on a little side street just off St. Germain and we think we may have better luck getting our day started there rather than the French Patisserie. Strangely, the people in Starbucks also speak French but we are familiar enough with the sizes and shapes that we actually get what we want and are able to pay without just holding out handfuls of money.

It’s an easy walk east on St. Germain and then across Rue St. Jacques to the cathedral. It is cool and overcast this morning so it feels good to sip our warm coffee standing outside Notre Dame. The church is more than half full when we go in, and half full in Notre Dame is a lot of people. There is a certain serenity to Gregorian chants and we are looking forward to an uplifting yet soothing experience this morning. Not so. The music is harsh and the chants are threatening. While we understand not a word of the priest’s sermon, that too sounds like he is mad at all of us and we better shape up right here and now or we will all be going straight to hell and he’ll take us there himself if he has to. Wow. We are relieved when the service ends and maybe this will make the whole experience more memorable for us.

We have heard that Sundays are good days to visit Montmartre where artists display their wares on the hillsides in front of Sacre Coeur Basilica. On Ile de Cite we find the Metro station and pick up a pack of ten tickets to get us through the day and hop the pink and blue lines to the Anvers station. We climb back into daylight and spot a Tourist Office at street level. On our to-do list for the day is purchasing museum passes to use during the week so we get that taken care of here. It is another two block walk past some exceedingly seedy tourist traps to the funicular which we take to the top of Montmartre in exchange for one of our Metro tickets.

The day remains threatening and the view of Paris from the city’s highest point is a little hazy. We can pick out some of the most dominant sights but we’re not getting the photo ops that we had hoped. The Basilica, built in the late 1800’s, is dominated by onion domes and a coat of gypsum that makes it a very bright white. There are hoards of folks visiting today and we take a quick peek inside, pay our respects to the Sacred Heart and Joan of Arc mosaics and make a quick about face into the fresh air.

Maybe it’s because it’s October or the skies look like trouble, but the promised mass of artists are no-shows today. There are a few stragglers around and some picnickers but the outside art show we had envisioned is not here. We decide to walk back down past the Church of St. Pierre de Montmartre (circa 1147) and into the neighborhoods. This area is another version of the “Real” Paris where Toulouse-Lautrec, Renoir, Picasso, Van Gogh, and others all lived, drank and painted, and each block brags some connection to France’s art heritage.

We eventually work our way down to Boulevard de Clichy, one of the famous entertainment areas of the Right Bank. Centerpiece to that claim is, of course, the Moulin Rouge with its trademark windmill and leg kicking ladies. John and Dave are interested in catching a show, but relent when the Marys promise a private show later. This area is also the home of Pigalle, or “Pig Alley” as the liberating American soldiers named the famous red light district.

It is already mid-afternoon so we find a little café and grab an outside table under an awning – just in the nick of time. We enjoy lunch, a little red wine and watch it rain on the passers-by. As we always say we are so fantastically lucky (or some other version of SFL) and this trip is no exception. We take a little walk after lunch, arrive back at our Metro station, and make a connection to our own little Odeon station a block from our hotel. It is definitely nap time.

Tonight is dinner at le Procope, an historic bistro only a block from our hotel, but first there is an important discovery to be made. Next to the restaurant we discover the Pub St. Germain. This is a more modern Euro style bar with hot young servers and real American style cocktails. Yes, they do play a constant stream of Euro-techno-trash music, but in spite of that we have indeed discovered the spot where one might find a spot to lay back and enjoy a nice little martini before venturing off to dinner. We shall return!

Founded in 1686, le Procope has entertained Voltaire, Robespierre, Benjamin Franklin and now the Kolesars and Zesbaughs. Good for them. Dinner is unremarkable but the wine continues to flow and once again we have tapered to the end of another full and fantastic day.

When we get back to the hotel and get buzzed in we now shout out our room numbers in our version of French while the night clerk does the same in English. Neither of us has to do this since he now knows which rooms we are in, but the ritual is fun and we’re all proud to be communicating. The Marys think John and Dave have forgotten about the promised show and they are right. Obviously an age thing.

THE STREETS OF PARIS
Saturday 9/30/06

We’re all up and at ‘em this morning. The K’s of course have to repack for their room change but the staff has assured us that they will handle the details. The hotel offers a breakfast as an add-on to their regular lodging but all of the reviews said to just walk outside and the streets will be lined with little boulangeries and patisseries.

A block down Rue de Buci there is a crowded little place called Paul’s (that we will later learn is a big chain) and we decide to try our luck. When we go in we find people swarming around a counter and indicating with winks and nods what they would like while the staff is grabbing pastries and moving folks through a fast-paced line to the check-out register. The four of us treat this like a spectator sport as we try to figure out what the score is and who is ahead. We finally work up our courage and try pointing and speaking slow English interspersed with some “oui”s and we eventually wind up with something to eat, even if it isn’t what we wanted and some of us have to share. This obviously needs a little work.

We retrace our first route from last night back down to the river and Pont Neuf where we cross and mosey over to the Louvre. This is a monstrous complex and we wander through a couple of courtyards before finding the iconic glass pyramid and the Tuileries Garden beyond. It’s a cool but sunny morning and we grab a couple photos with all the famous backdrops. Monday is going to be our Louvre inside day so we get back to our exploring.

We poke around outside one of the big department stores but they are closed for renovation so we head back to the river. The stroll along the right bank of the Seine is lined with shops, outdoor stands and artists displaying their wares. For the first couple of blocks all of the shops are selling plants and flowers with products displayed inside and out. The next couple of blocks are all pets with huge parrots, little puppies and kittens, and a few ugly fish. It is like the retail area has been divided into departments so if you need a new African Violet you go to block two and for an African Elephant you go to block four. It is a great feeling to be wandering around the city on Saturday morning with nowhere to be and just soak it all in.

We cross halfway back across the river to Ile de la Cite (City Island) where we mill around another large market area of plants and crafts and odds and ends. This island is the center of the French world and the center of the center is Notre Dame Cathedral. We now get our first glimpse of this monster rising 200 feet to the top of the bell towers. It has been here since the 1100’s and before that this was the home of a Roman Temple of Jupiter so a few folks have been here before us. Tomorrow we are attending a Gregorian Mass so today we are content to do a cursory tour and marvel at the exteriors.

It’s lunchtime and we are very near where we had dinner last night. Today we find a sidewalk café (Le Depart) on Boulevard St. Michel right across the street from the river. A perfect vantage point to sip a little white wine, relax and let the city wash over us.

We get our motors started once again to continue down St. Michel on the left bank past the Sorbonne and into the Luxembourg Gardens and adjoining Palace (home of the French Senate). This place is 60 acres huge with formal plantings, great expanses of lawn and acres of shallow ponds. On this beautiful Saturday afternoon there are probably thousands of folks milling around with picnic baskets, books, games and toys of all sorts. The kids are playing with little toy sailboats in the ponds, and you can rent little remote control boats to attack the defenseless sailboats. In the summer you get a touch of the tropics as the groundskeepers pull out the boxed orange trees from l’orangerie where they are tended in the winter.

We leave the gardens on the west side and walk a couple of blocks to check out St. Sulpice Church. This is where some people get knocked off in the book “The Da Vinci Code” as Silas the Murderous Monk goes on a rampage. Nothing of the sort going on here today but there are some teens in scuba gear hanging around the fountain in front. No, we don’t get it either, but they obviously have a plan.

We’re now moving back north towards the river and we do a quick walk through Bon Marche, the big Paris department store that has been here for over 150 years. This was the first store to offer fixed pricing rather than haggling and bartering, but we’re starting to wind down so shopping is not an option. We kick back out on St. Germain and enjoy our tree-lined walk past the hotels, restaurants, churches and shops as we wind our way back to the hotel. We have a big dinner tonight so a nap might be in order. The K’s are in their new room so all is well with the world.

Dinner tonight is at Jacques Cagna, a convenient five minute walk from the hotel. This is a Michelin one-star that has been here for ages with Jacques still in the kitchen while his sister and her son run the dining room. Our reservation is for 7:30 which is obviously early since the restaurant is only half full when we arrive. Our hostess (the sister?) takes us upstairs and stops at a little alcove off to the side with one table for four tucked inside. Isn’t this nice? This is our minor splurge, the major scheduled for later in the week, so we all order off the tasting menu with multiple courses. Each serving is a delight and we amuse ourselves by taking pictures of all the food as it is presented. Being peculiar is one of the advantages of private dining.

This is John’s birthday week and the K’s have secreted a flaming happy birthday sign to the staff and they present it with dessert. Jacques & Company also throw their two-cents worth in with a fancy little “Joyeaux Anniversaire” sign on another dessert. It is another perfect birthday party for JZ and another perfect day.

A slow amble gets us back to bed with many more big days to come.

OFF TO PARIS

Thursday 9/28/06 – Friday 9/29/06

This is an adventure for four of us that begins in twos on Thursday the 28th of September, 2006. Dave and Mary are booked on a late afternoon Northwest flight from Minneapolis to Detroit and then on an overnight to Paris. John and Mary are on an earlier Delta flight to Atlanta and then to Charles de Gaulle arriving early morning on Friday. We touch base one last time on Wednesday to confirm our rendezvous (that’s French) for Friday noon.

Flights are on-time and easy with Mary Z. taking advantage of her normal medications in business class to sleep well on the flight over the Atlantic. The Z’s arrive first and clear customs and baggage check at about 10:00 AM Paris time. D&M are expected to pop out of the international arrival area at about noon so J&M take turns wandering the terminal area while the other guards the bags. John locates the main train terminal which we will use to get into the city and thinks he may have a plan.

The K’s are easy to spot and hug-hug our adventure is really happening. It’s any easy and chatty 10 minute hike to get to the train ticket counter, but what was empty and easy earlier is now crowded and difficult. John and Mary K. get in the snaking ticket line and eventually stumble through enough phony French to get what we hope are four tickets to the St. Michel station on the blue Metro line. We find the train easily and score four seats with room for our luggage to hang around. Public transportation always provides interesting glimpses of the people and neighborhoods of any city and this is no exception. For most of the ride into the city we are above ground and so see a changing pattern of suburbs that we have only read about.

We’re following our progress on a little fold-out map that provides little detail, but does include all of the train stations. We’re now underground and disembark at the appropriate left-bank station that has exits in all four directions. We pick the closest and march upstairs and out onto Boulevard St. Germain. It is hot and sunny and the boulevard is bustling with activity and this is exciting. We reference our little map and go marching off to find our hotel with John bravely leading the way. We know all of the streets don’t appear on our map, but after about 6 blocks we are wondering why the streets we are seeing don’t match anything on our map. After another 3 blocks of dragging luggage and sweating profusely we look again at the map and realize that we went in the wrong direction from the station. Crap! John is apologizing profusely while the others are hesitant to make eye contact with him. We do a 180 and march back past the station suddenly finding the streets on our map, and after one or two more fakes and a total walk of about two miles we arrive at our hotel.

The Hotel le Regent is on Rue Dauphine about 2 blocks from the Seine and in the heart of the St.-Germain de Pres area on the Left Bank. It is all bistros, bakeries, sidewalk cafes and cutesy shops, and if you were going to make a Paris movie you would do it right here. Our rooms are sort-of ready when we arrive. Our cute clerk explains in passable English that while the Z’s room is available as booked, the K’s room has the proverbial “plumbing” problem and they will have to spend their first night in a lesser room with an appropriate reduction in fees. There is a little dog looking smug in the corner and we suspect that he may have stolen the good room.

The Z’s room overlooks the street in front of the hotel and up Rue le Buci where all the action takes place. It is small but clean and attractive. The K’s room is in back, smaller and dark so we hope that it will only be for one night. How small is it? It is so small that they have to decide who will sleep on the far side of the bed so that person can go in first. It is late afternoon so we decide to unpack and grab a short nap and then get out exploring our neighborhood. We’re all dog tired but also very excited so the napping is spotty.

We have no plans when we take a right out of the hotel and walk the two blocks down to the Seine. “Our” bridge across the river is the Pont Neuf and we take some time to oooh and aaah at the sights from the bridge. The tour boats are chugging up and down the river, the Louvre is straight across from us, and back to the left we can see the top of the Eiffel Tower. We are at the end of the Ile de la Cite, the home of the Palace of Justice and of course Notre Dame. We can see evidence of churches, gardens, cafes and outdoor shops and we are living the post card.

We take a leisurely stroll along the river on the Quai des Grands Augustin where the booksellers have set up their collections of used books, pamphlets and assorted oddities. Apparently they have been doing this since the 1500s but none of them appear to be original. The city is broken into twenty different government entities called Arrondissements (like New Yorks’ boroughs) and we are moving between the 6th where our hotel is, into the 5th known for it’s Latin Quarter and more bohemian laid back style.

It’s Friday evening now, the lights are popping on and there are folks milling everywhere. Just like Friday night in any big city, the young worker-bees are out on the town and we can feel the buzz of the street as we weave around people, traffic and monuments. We’re all hungry and there are tons of outdoor eating spots with pop-up type canopies, white crime-scene tape barriers and bustling waiters. As we are looking at a menu posted outside of one of these spots a waiter appears magically and drags us to his only open table near the back. What the heck, why not?

Three of us are dressed in our Euro black outfits and Mary K. has donned the black and white horizontal striped top that you might see in an old Maurice Chevalier movie. Tres chic. The food is adequate while the service is very European as our waiter has about 12 tables in his section. He manages to keep our wine filled, we are eating at an outdoor café in Paris, and we’re with good friends so what is not to like. By the time we have coffee and dessert the place is practically empty.

It is an arm-in-arm stroll back to our hotel. The lack of sleep, the excitement of the day, and the wine all contribute to a very mellow feeling about the first 30 hours of our adventure. Our night clerk lets us in the locked door of the hotel and it is the sleep of the angels.