Tuesday, May 31
Off to Montmartre! I had a coffee and brioche on the go as I climbed the hilly, winding streets. It's a charming "Bohemian" neighborhood, teeming with tourists, and featuring the friendliest of Paris's locals. (I realized at this point in the trip that my embarrassment at not speaking French was registering on my face as a scowl--I started smiling more and got many more pleasant responses, of course).

I arrived at the Sacre Coeur just as the morning mass was reaching the Offering. I stayed through the end off mass because the nuns were singing in a lovely two-part harmony and playing a zither or some kind of plucked instrument. Gorgeous. The church, too, had an amazing dome. The exterior, of course, is all heavenly white. The views from the Butte are terrific. I wandered some more, ate more pastries, missed the Moulin Rouge but saw the Moulin de la Galette. I bought a warm half-sized bagette from a local boulangerie and ate it as I walked to the train.

Back in the center of Paris it was time for a museum. The Rodin museum has the most lovely rose gardens, and I strolled and sat there for a long, long time. I enjoyed the museum itself immensely, perhaps because it wasn't very big. More rose-garden strolling after, a visit with The Thinker, then hunger again took over.

Sunday night's disappointing dinner was blamed on my guidebook, so to be fair they get credit for redeeming themselves with Chez Germaine, where I ate a delightful, affordable lunch. It's a tiny place on the border of the 6th and 7th arrondissements, on the quiet, out-of-the-way rue Pierre Leroux. They have a limited menu, serving up satisfyingly simple dishes. Lunch cost less than $20. I started with two nice fillets of sardines, served cold in olive-oil with a leafy salad and bread. Then I had roasted perch, served on a mound of buttery roasted carrots. Both fishes were very tasty, and it was a huge amount of food. I drank a light red wine which was easy and refreshing. For dessert I had fromage blanc--a tasty, not-too-sweet cream that looks like the lovechild of sour-cream and cottage cheese, with a raspberry sauce poured over it. Wow! The woman who served me was so nice, and she was impressed enough with my pathetic attempt to communicate in French that she never reverted to auto-English, using it only if I didn't understand something. I took her picture, thanked her profusely, then walked out into the sunshine.

My map said there were two noteworthy churches nearby. St. Sulpice was very moving--quiet and stately, with gorgeous detailing in the architecture, but not overblown in any way despite being a very large building. Nearby St. Joseph des Carnes is significantly smaller, and a bit time-worn. I liked the way it smelled, though, and being the only person in it, I sat in a chair and daydreamed (aka "prayed") for a few minutes.

Well that bit of sitting and daydreaming led me to the Luxembourg Gardens. Holy shit, this is the most perfect park ever created. These people know know how to live! I wrote in my journal while sitting in the park regarding the pine trees and the potted palms, listening to the rather varied songs of birds and the caws of the crows, watching the people walk by, or sit reading, or napping, or kissing, or laughing, or just sitting in quiet contemplation. Every age group was represented and everyone seemed serene. Under an old, round tree, two schoolboys sat and talked in chairs. On a path a mother walked hand-in-hand with her toddler. Then an older gentleman walked by, wearing sunglasses and following the birdcalls, pointing every now and then up into the trees. A magical, magisterial park.

The only thing that got me out of my Luxembourg chair was the desire for chocolate. So I strolled the streets heading back to the apartment, stopping in two or three different places to buy a couple of small chocolates. A perfect way to decide to go home and take a nap.

Oops, I overslept and was half an hour late to meet Beth for dinner. She'd just returned from Strasbourg and tonight was her last dinner in Paris. I found Beth and we found our fondue fantasy at Alexandre on a little side street near St. Michel, the rue de Parcheminerie. We talked and talked and talked like a couple of Parisians, albeit in English. The cheese was rich and fertile--earthy tasting--and besides the bread for dipping, it was served with roasted potatoes that were also particularly hearty. We drank a white wine the waiter recommended.

We decided to have coffee and dessert closer to the river, found a nice spot, and indulged in chocolate cake, tarte tatin, and coffee. Afterward we strolled the Seine for a few blocks, took some pictures (on Beth's camera; mine stayed back in the apartment still napping!), then returned to the St. Michel metro station, where Beth took the 4 toward Porte de Clingancourt, and I the 4 toward Porte d'Orleans. Au revoir, mon ami--bon voyage.

Wednesday, June 1

Second day at the Louvre--this time I go for the Greatest Hits collection. I went straight for the Mona Lisa but hooked up with Winged Victory on the way. Living up to a pretty big promise, Victory truly soars (quite a feat for piece of stone!). Mona Lisa was more or less what I expected: a modest painting with a wry smile. It was a madhouse, of course, with people pushing and everyone taking pictures. They have a stanchion of velvet ropes (like an exclusive nightclub) to allow the flow of people to filter past the painting; and it only took me five minutes to make it to the front (I should have such luck at nightclubs). I'd be interested to learn how this particular painting became so famous--not interested enough to read a book about it, but I'd listen if someone told me. Heh.

What You See In Mona Lisa's Gallery

What Mona Lisa Sees

The other Italian paintings in that department--the Renis, Caravaggios, other Leonardos--were far more interesting (and accessible) than the Mona Lisa. It took me a very long time to get through the Grand Gallery--surely one of the longest halls in any museum.

I also found the Venus de Milo, which did not disappoint. All the Greek, Roman, and Etruscan antiquities were great. Ended my journey with Italian drawings, French drawings, and "monumental" French paintings which blew me away--enormous Davids, Delacroixs, et al. All told, I probably spent 8-10 hours at the Louvre, and of course, I saw only a fraction of it.

After buying and posting some postcards, I left the museum and walked along rue St. Honoré. I forced myself to avoid all the fabulous restaurants on this street, and instead lined up with the businessmen to grab a quick sandwich (trois fromage sandwich for just trois Euros). I ate it while window shopping at stores I could not afford. I walked aimlessly and ended up at Les Halles.

I needed coffee, so I headed to the cafe atop La Samaritaine department store. There were exhilarating views from up there, so I opted for red wine instead of coffee. Ha! I chatted with a friendly woman with 3 kids--one her own and two American visitors--and heard all about her rich troubles ("I told my husband we should have bought that co-op at South Street Seaport! Now I've got to pack up and move to London!"). Also listened as she lectured her young American boy about tolerance and anti-gay language. Right on, Madame! I kid you not, the place is so charming that small birds were eating bread right from the children's hands. Tipsy from the wine and the views, I went inside and bought $150 worth of fancy French underpants (sorry, no pictures). Oops.

I metroed to the Cluny. The Museum of the Middle Ages! Lovely museum with no crowds. I saw the famous Unicorn tapestries, which were truly beautiful, and lots of other wondrous objects, including what's left of some of the original apostles who once decorated the entrance to Notre Dame.

The museum is near the Pantheon, so that was my next stop. It was huge and rather empty feeling--echoey and mysterious. Downstairs the crypt was even emptier feeling, appropriately enough. I saw the final resting places of many of France's most honored, including Voltaire and Jean Moulin, the WWII resistance leader.

And I just kept going. On to Notre Dame. It's a glory--huge and dark and weighted with sin and history (some people were purging themselves of some sin in the little glass confessionals!). I'd been thinking a lot about my deceased grandparents and my Aunt Martha and Uncle Joe as I'd been visiting all these churches, so even though I'm no believer, I lit a candle in their honor and said a little prayer.

I didn't go up into the towers because the lines were so long and I needed to sit down. What better place to do that than on one of the many Bateaux Mouches?! I boarded the boat heading east, to take me out past the Pont d'Austerlitz, then back westard through the heart of Paris. I took many sequences of pictures as we passed under the numerous low, old bridges. As Notre Dame receded, the Louvre approached, then the Musêe d'Orsay with its big clocks. The river bends near the National Assembly and the Place de la Concorde and I disembarked when we landed at the foot of the Eiffel Tower.

The Eiffel Tower is a great symbol of the industrial age. Exposed steel, all it's nuts and bolts and warts showing. The legs straddle a pebble-filled circle, and standing underneath this enormous structure is strange and humbling. I loved watching the elevators going up and down and diagonally. Of course, it's fantastic as the lights come on late at night. And nightly at 11pm or midnight an electronic glittery light display turns the tower into a 21st century disco ball. Like many things I saw in Paris, this is a bit much, way over-the-top, and just wonderful.

I had intended to go up to the top that night, but I'd spend the last of my cash on the boat, and when I found an ATM machine I also found the whole American banking system off the grid, so to speak. The evening was getting chilly so I simply went home to layer and regroup.

For dinner I headed out to the 8th, to a place near the Arc that Penny referred me to: Brasserie La Lorraine. Penny was quick to tell me that in fact our friend Michel had recommended it to her. When I saw Michel this week I told him I'd been there, and he was delighted, having grown up right there on that block. It was a bit more expensive than I had intended for this night, but what the hell, I was hungry and it was extremely inviting. I started with a "martini," and they brought me a bowl of tiny melon balls to further open my already-wide-open appetite. Then a half-bottle of champagne, and artichoke carpaccio to start, then fifteen oysters (three each of five different kinds), then an amazing cheese plate that was big enough to be a meal itself. Un café, et bon nuit.

Thursday, June 2
I had limited time on this Thursday morning, as I was expecting Carter's arrival at about 1pm. But I got up early enough to sit at a cafe for a coffee and tartine, then head up to Sainte-Chapelle. Wow, Sainte-Chapelle is truly something to see--a Gothic jewel of stained glass unlike any church I have ever been inside of. The windows show over 1000 different Bible scenes, covering 1500 square yards. I tried to make out a few Bible stories on my own, but ended up using my guide book to direct me to certain areas. My camera battery died as I took my second or third picture, so you'll have to go yourself to get any more than this.

I bought the most delicious cherries at an outdoor market, then stopped for bread and wine and headed home for lunch while waiting for Carter. His flight was a bit late and he arrived at 2.30pm and we immediately went out for a coffee in the 7th, then shoe shopping, cheese shopping, and champagne at Cafe de Flore. The cheese was purchased at Berthelemy--regarded by every person who gave me Parisian must-dos as the ultimate cheese store, as the place where Catherine Deneuve buys cheese, as a cheese lab where the lab-coated ladies who work there won't sell you a cheese if they don't think it's ripe enough. Everyone was right. It's a heavenly place, straight out of a movie. A tiny shop, with more employees than customers, you can smell it half-way down the block, even when they are closed every day for lunch. Not being any kind of experts in cheese, we just pointed at the most appealing hunks and let them do the rest. Needless to say, when we got home with our cheese and ate it, we were not at all disappointed.

After Carter unpacked and we relaxed for a while in the courtyard, we headed back out for dinner. We looked for a place Carter knew near St. Sulpice, but it was closed. So we found a sweet little restaurant with tables out front up against a lovely hedge: Le Basilic, on rue Casimir Périer. I had delicious pork medallions. And we both had more cheese after dinner! We were the last people in the place, then walked to the Hotel Lutetia for a nightcap. In a red velvet room, with a terrible/wonderful cabaret singer, we drank Scotch, had a laugh, paid a fortune, then took a cab home.

Davidmas, Friday, June 3
I had the best birthday this year. We slept in then headed back to the 7th to meet Carter's friend Kasper at his hotel. We found a handsomely staffed bistro for lunch. I had gaspacho, then boudin noir which was rich and indulgent. I had fromage blanc for dessert, served with a fruit compote. We bid Kasper goodbye then got caught in the rain. So we bought umbrellas.

After sitting a while for a coffee we went to the Maillol Museum. The Maillol was small, manageable, nicely installed, and a bit dull. They had a Klimt exhibition of about 15 million erotic drawings--I liked them, but really, 3 million would have sufficed.

We window-shopped at fancy stores before ducking into St. Thomas d'Aquina, a very nice church with a wooden pulpit, gorgeous murals, and a chill in the air. Next up, the Delacroix Museum. I loved this museum. It's in his old house and studio, and has a sweet garden. I was impressed by how great even the most minor sketches were. Obviously, his great masterworks are mostly at the Louvre and elsewhere, but there was much here to see and enjoy. His studio was interesting, with palettes and paints and easels.

From there we walked east. Half an hour on the Internet, another coffee, then home to regroup for the night.

Months ago I had booked tickets for Pina Bausch's production of Orphée et Eurydice at the Paris Opera (well, Marijane actually did the booking for me as the Paris Opera web site does not have an English component...). We arrived at the magnificent Opera Garnier and sipped champagne as we marveled at the insanely ornate building. It's a strange and wonderful place, with flowing marble staircases and gold gilding on everything else. It makes the Metropolitan Opera house look both understated and cheap.

The auditorium itself is quite small, and our seats were really perfect, even though we were rather far back in the orchestra. The production was wonderful, an opera and a ballet all rolled into one. Each role in the opera was cast with both a singer and a dancer, including the chorus (though the singing chorus was in the pit while the dancers and all the other singers were on stage). The dancing was classic Pina Bausch: arms in circular motion, falling bodies, high energy, repetitive movement. Act II featured an amazing grid structure of dancers pulling strings tautly across the stage from the wings. Act IV, where Orpheus cannot look back at Eurydice, was danced wonderfully, with averted eyes, sidelong glances, and Orpheus reaching behind him. The music at the moment he does finally look is rather haunting, stopping as it does, like Eurydice's life, on a dime. The choreography matched this drama perfectly, with energy and movement suddenly replaced with stasis and breath.

I was beaming when the opera let out. Carter took me to dinner at the Cafe de la Pais, a somewhat touristy, well-worn, thoroughly enjoyable landmark cafe at the Intercontinental Hotel. This is the place where Charles de Gaulle ordered the first post-liberation meal "to go." We had a bottle of champagne at the bar, then I had foie gras then a delicious steak. The service was lacking, the wine was fine, the price was pricey (for Carter), and I was never happier.

Tomorrow's entry: We're off to Bilbao!

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