Intermittence

Thursday morning found us hitting the streets (relatively) early and heading to the 1st Arrondissement, where the Metro deposited us beneath the Musée du Louvre. There’s not much I can say about the museum itself, really. It is sublime. I found myself stunned into silence by the Venus de Milo, the Winged Victory of Samothrace, Pallas Velletri.

I am a sculpture guy, apparently.

We left the Louvre exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and headed up towards Île de la Cité, where we crossed over to the Latin Quarter to catch a bite to eat (my terrine de canard and filet de julienne avec sauce Hollandaise was simply marvelous) and browse the shops, including a second visit to Shakespeare & Company. From there, a walk back across the front of Notre Dame was in order, along with a quick trip into another café for a jolt of caffeine.

I wandered the streets of Paris for a while arm-in-arm with my love, and we found ourselves back at Judah’s with enough time to work the knots out of our tired legs before heading out to dinner at a wonderful Italian restaurant, where Donnell and Judah were treated to an impromptu dance number, and Donnell was in such high spirits that she performed the same dance for an unsuspecting Frenchman as we left.

Good times, good times.

I have several more posts to add concerning our trip to Paris, including (but perhaps not limited to):

• Days four (Thursday) and five (Friday)
• Details concerning the Hidden Kitchen dinner
• Recounting the trips to and from Paris

Right now, however, I’m recovering. Jet-lag is the pits, and so is having a cat who’s totally lost contact with reality and doesn’t seem to realize that we’re home for a while.

I will fill in the blanks.

When last we met, Donnell and I had just left Le Cafe des Deux Moulins. We quickly got our bearings and navigated to L’Étoile d’or, a gorgeous chocolate shop in Pigalle very near the super-famous Moulin Rouge. We haven’t sampled the chocolate yet (having decided, in my case at least, to do so once we’ve returned home as a way of extending our vacation a little bit more), but I am assured that it is to die for.

Dinner consisted of Indian take-out and a very nice wine purchased from a really cool little shop just down the street from Judah’s apartment. Everything was just right, and we slept well that night.

This morning, Donnell and I left just before Judah, and went to the Centre Georges Pompidou to take in some modern art. I thought I’d read that the Centre opened at 9:00 AM, but we arrived and quickly discovered just how wrong I was. So, our entrance was delayed for an hour or so, and left us just enough time to find a nearby café and enjoy a lovely breakfast of orange juice, coffee (I have become addicted to sweetened espresso, I’m afraid), and a croissant with butter and peach jam.

The Centre Pompidou was…well, the Centre itself was nice, but I guess I’m just not a modern art kind of person. There’s not much nice I can say about it, but I’m also not sure that the artists whose work we saw had much nice to say about anything.

We met up with Judah outside the Centre, and had a quick lunch before heading off on foot to find a newly-opened Muji store, where goods were exchanged for currency, and then through a set of winding streets to La Place des Vosges, one-time home of Victor Hugo. Espresso, tea, and hot chocolate were consumed. Next up: more shopping!

Le Bon Marché is, put simply, one of the world’s most extensive department stores. We picked up some paper and writing supplies at the papeterie on the second floor, then went to the 3rd and browsed the wide variety of knitting supplies. Then, because Judah had plans to make dinner for us (again!), we went next door to La Grande Épicerie (the grocery store arm of Le Bon March&eacute). Some time later, we emerged with some beautiful brussels sprouts, a lovely cheese, a variety of potato chips, some lemon-and-ginger chocolate bars, a baguette, and who knows what else.

One last stop: Pierre Hermé for macarons. Eat your heart out.

Dinner, consisting of creamed brussels sprouts (served atop spaghetti) and wine, was to die for, and the macaron that finished the meal was perfect in every way.

Judah had to work today, so Donnell and I climbed out of bed as she was leaving, made a quick trip to the local bakery/boulangerie for croissants au chocolat, and returned to the apartment to scarf them down with some coffee.

We headed out shortly thereafter for another trip to the Eiffel Tower, this time the opposite side, and were almost immediately targeted by a scammer. Stories of this particular scam are all over the Internet, but I’ll give a quick synopsis of how it’s supposed to work: The scammer pretends that they’ve found something on the ground in front of you, bend over, discreetly drop a cheap metal ring, and pick it up as though they had just discovered it. “Is this yours?” they ask, to which the victim inevitably responds in the negative. The nefarious villain then proceeds to explain that it is certainly of high quality and value, and while they don’t have time to turn it in or sell it for a profit, they would be willing to give it to the victim in exchange for a portion of the purported value. The ring is, of course, worthless, and any money the victim hands over is pure profit.

So, a woman tried to pull the same trick, bending over directly in front of me, blatantly dropping a poorly-palmed ring on the ground, and beginning her patter. We blew by with a brusque “Non!” in response to her half-formed question, and we never saw her again.

The park on the other side of the Tower is lovely, though it appears that the city is working hard to establish the lawn in anticipation for a hard summer of lounging and wandering tourists–it’s mostly fenced-off. Still, we got some fantastic photographs (a claim you’ll have to take or leave as you see fit), and enjoyed a nice walk despite the chill.

It was chilly, though, so we wandered a block or so away from the Tower to a nearby café and enjoyed a chocolat chaud and café crème. Lovely!

While walking back toward the Metro station, I thwarted what I am sure would have turned into a pickpocketing or mugging attempt. A man had tailed us down a mostly-deserted street for a while, working ever-closer and meandering back and forth across the wide sidewalk. I directed Donnell to a nearby crosswalk, came to a sudden stop, and turned to face our would-be assailant (a shifty-looking fellow with a pencil mustache and a black leather coat). He immediately turned to examine a sign posted on a nearby wall, then headed away from us with haste, only to disappear into an alleyway a few moments later.

Asshole.

We returned to the Metro and rode to Montmartre, where we consumed amazing croque madames (a grilled cheese-and-ham sandwich with a fried egg on top). A nearby park boasted a lovely carousel playing music from Amelie and, far above, the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur. We did not enter, but admired it from without and took in a breathtaking view of the surrounding city.

The area was chock full of tourists, but we found a quiet street nearby (situated in such a way and narrow enough that ice still clung to the cobblestones, not having seen direct sunlight for some time) and meandered through the neighborhood in search of the famous (through Amelie) Café des Deux Moulins, where more coffee was consumed, along with a crême brûlée, a treat familiar to and beloved by any true fan of the movie.

I’m having trouble staying awake now, so that’s all I have for tonight. There was at least one more interesting event I have to relate, but it’ll have to wait for tomorrow.

I hope you have as nice a day as you’d like.

So, it’s 8:32 PM on Monday, March 8. Donnell and I are in Paris, and this is a quick synopsis of what’s happened since I last checked in:

• We successfully left Minneapolis, but…
• …our luggage didn’t.
• Just before closing the door to the airplane, a ridiculously drunk vulgar American boarded and sat behind us. Things got so bad that he was officially warned that continued poor behavior would be considered a violation of Federal law and he would be met by the police upon landing in Amsterdam. We did not enjoy this flight, but it warrants a separate blog entry. Stay tuned.
• We rushed through the airport in Amsterdam, picked up some Dutch candy, and learned that…
• …security personnel in Amsterdam believe that the only knitting needles which are too dangerous to carry on board an airplane are those with a shawl-in-progress attached to them. The needles were confiscated, but many others which were not currently involved in a project were not. Donnell was not happy.
• The flight from Amsterdam to Paris was smooth, quiet, and provided us with the only sleep (short though it was) to be had.
• We discovered upon arrival in Paris that Delta had neglected to put our one checked bag on the plane, and that it was still in Minneapolis. We were not happy.
• Things got better from here on out.
• We were shuttled to Judah’s apartment without incident.
• Donnell and I fought sleep long for a couple of hours and went to dinner (which also deserves its own blog post, and will get it). It was, in a word, fantastic.
• Finally, after 36 long hours, we got some real sleep.

I’ll recount today’s experiences tomorrow. It’s late, we’re not totally rested, and the bed’s looking mighty inviting right now. The Louvre and Centre Pompidou are closed tomorrow, which ruins the plans we’d made (though apparently they weren’t very good plans to begin with, given the amount of research we put into them), so we’ll play it by ear until Judah gets off work.

It’s so nice to be here.