Days 7 through 10 – Paris

Day 7

My excitement was rising as we left Reims and started our journey to Paris. First stop, Chantilly.

I had long heard of Chantilly lace (the fabric, not the song) and Crème Chantilly, but never associated them with a city. (And, lest anyone has ever told you that Crème Chantilly is “just whipped cream,” let me assure you it is not. I do not like whipped cream. On this trip, I learned to love Crème Chantilly!)

Our first stop was the Château de Chantilly. The estate’s history as a castle began in the mid-1400s. The château was destroyed during the French Revolution and rebuilt from 1875 through 1881.

To me, the most special part of the estate was the Condé museum. The treasures in this museum were stunning-breathtaking-awesome-every word you’ve ever used to describe magnificent works of art.

When Henri d’Orléans, Duke of Aumale, bequeathed the Chateau and its collections to the Institut de France, he included in the bequest conditions that forbid the loaning of artworks to other institutions as well as insisting that the exhibition spaces not be modified in any way. This means that every painting on the wall—and there were a lot of them—is placed today exactly as it was when the museum opened in 1898. Amazing.

More amazing to me, a professed fiberholic, are the paintings he included that show the opulence of the garments of the age. Look at the beading and embellishment on these garments. Look at the use of metallic paints to portray the gold threads used in the embroidery. Exquisite! And in this incredible museum, one can stand close to the portraits and examine them at length. What a wonderful gift Duke d’Aumale gave to the people.

From Chantilly, we headed back to the medieval town of Senlis for lunch at the delightful underground restaurant Le Gril des Barbares. This was one of my favorite restaurants of the tour (along with the underground restaurant where we ate lunch in Reims). (Extensive photos in the gallery below of both the food and the space.)

After lunch, we roamed through the town back to the bus. Beautiful medieval architecture, views of an incredible cathedral, lush flowers and garden spaces. I’m thinking I could very happily spend a summer here!

And then we were in Friday afternoon traffic approaching Paris and winding through the city to reach our hotel near Gare de Montparnasse. Dinner was not included but, as in the past, JJ had decided to eat his dinner at one of his favorite restaurants in the Latin Quarter, and generously told us we could accompany him if we desired. We did. He showed us how to get from the hotel to the Metro and how to buy tickets and navigate the system. He got us all on the train; in a few minutes we were surfacing. We walked around a corner and there were the Seine and Notre Dame. Now this was Paris!

He walked with us through the Latin Quarter, pointing out notable and good restaurants in case we wanted to go out on our own. The narrow streets were packed with people. Most restaurants had barkers in the door offering us deals on food, ever anxious to bring more diners inside. As we approached Place St. Michel, I was delighted to see a piano standing in the middle of the pavement, being expertly played by Steve Villa Massone.

We then headed up a small side street to Café de la Tourelle. This was a simple, small restaurant with great food. Another enjoyable dinner. But then, of course, we had to head back into the Latin Quarter for gelato at Amorino. You can get as many flavors as you want in a cone, and the dippers behind the counter form it so it looks like a rose. Amazing.

While licking our cones, we walked toward Pont Neuf, where we would board a boat for a cruise along the Seine. We were able to see, from the water, the sparkles of the Eiffel Tower, which occur on the hour for five minutes every hour from dusk until midnight. The weather was cold and damp and we froze on the boat, but it was a memorable ride. Most memorable? Noting all the young people sitting on the sidewalks along the banks of the river. Oh, and the four guys who mooned us from the banks.

We rode the Metro back to the hotel and collapsed onto our beds at the Novotel Gare Montparnasse.

Day 8

Our morning began with a small bus and a Parisian guide. This is the 3½ hours of the trip that I wish I had back again, without the benefit of this tour. (And I don’t say this as someone who has visited Paris numerous times. I never mind learning more and seeing things again.) The bus was small and low-ceilinged, so the view was limited. The guide’s English was so heavily accented and the road noise so loud that we couldn’t understand what she was saying. We got out at the Trocadéro to be able to get pictures of the Eiffel Tower. (No, we did not go to the Eiffel Tower. No pictures from underneath looking up.) The Trocadéro stop was our only stop until the end of the guided tour. We saw buildings and landmarks, but didn’t get the great view from Montmartre. We could have gotten, probably, a better view of things from a hop on-hop off bus. Oh well. It’s a lost 3½ hours; C’est la vie.

Our party of four exited the bus at Place Saint-Michel, where we had been the night before. We knew our way around from there. Unsure how we wanted to spend our free afternoon, we stopped first at Le Bistro St-Andre for coffee (and, quite honestly, to use the bathrooms!). We sat and sipped and looked at our guidebooks and maps to decide where to go next. We decided to stroll along Boulevard Saint-Germain in the direction of the Rodin museum. We didn’t know how long a walk it was, but decided we’d just set out. If we got tired, we’d hail a cab. After a lot of strolling and a lot of stopping to look in shop windows—and a block away from the Rodin front door—we decided we were all hungry, so took a side trip to seek out a lunch venue.

Two blocks away, we found a promising-looking bistro, Le Martignac. It felt very neighborhood-friendly, as if the locals drop by each evening after work. The walls were papered with movie posters. The owner, with limited English, was friendly and wanted us to be happy diners.

After lunch we headed back to our earlier destination, Musée Rodin. I had visited the museum in 2004 with my friends Risa and Andy when we were in Paris for a performance at Église Saint-Louis-en-l’Île. This time, instead of exploring the house as well as the gardens, we spent all our time in the gardens. Marilyn is an inspired gardener, so it was a joy to be with her in this enchanted space.

After a lovely long visit, we walked back to the hotel to rest before our farewell dinner.

The group farewell dinner was held at Chez Clément, a very long mile’s walk through the train station and the rain. The restaurant itself was charming. (Mixed reviews on TripAdvisor.) It appeared to be a restaurant that focused on fresh food. The menu was preset for us with no choices, no options—not my favorite way to dine. We enjoyed a fabulous onion soup, which was followed by a not-so-fabulous-for-me chicken in a cream sauce heavily flavored with rosemary. One member of our party found a bug on her plate. Hmmm. I don’t even remember the dessert—I just remember that we liked the decoration of the restaurant more than what was served there.

Left to right: Evie, Christina, Joela, Nina and Michael

Left to right: Ed, Dan, Susan, Bryan, and Victor

And we said goodbye to new friends who were leaving early in the morning to return to the U.S.

Day 9

Our first day of our extended two days in Paris. Our party of four had spent lots of time the previous day discussing what we wanted to do on Sunday. We all had different interests, and decided the two couples would split up for the day, rejoining for dinner in the evening. I finally asked Jas directly what he wanted to do, rather than suggesting options. He quickly responded, “Visit the flea markets.” Wow. Lesson learned!

I lived in D.C. for many years and regularly rode the Metro, so the Paris Metro was not daunting to me. I knew exactly where we were going and how to get there. We had Metro tickets left over from Friday night’s excursion, so we hopped on Line 4 and about half an hour later were at the other end. We spent several hours just wandering, touching, marveling. What fun. When we got hungry, we sought out the restaurant JJ had recommended, Chez Louisette. Time travel at its best!

Chez Louisette is incomparable. There are long “family style” tables laid with white tableclothes. You sit across from your partner. The well-washed timeworn linen jacquard napkins are to die for. (Yes, I did want to sneak one into my bag. Jas stopped me.) There are all manner of banners and flags and streamers hanging from the ceiling. There are posters from the beginning of Chez Louisette time. There are musicians—a keyboardist and an accordionist—playing stereotypically Parisian tunes. There are chanteuses singing Piaf-style. There are bulletin boards stuck full of photographs of famous visitors. It’s just unlike any restaurant I’ve ever seen. Truly memorable.

Look at the little cutie sitting across from us on the Metro. Look at those oh-so-Parisian shoes, the little jean jacket, the scarf. Ooh, don’t you just want to pinch those dimpled cheeks?

I was entranced by the vintage clothing stores. And there was a sewing notions store stocked floor to ceiling with buttons and snaps and all sorts of personal adornments. (I couldn’t get a good, clear picture without getting yelled at in French.) Back out in the alleys of the flea market, Jas found a sterling shot glass lined with cobalt glass. When Jas tried to bargain for a broken coral bracelet (I only wanted the components to remake it), the seller just shook his head and asked, in French, if we thought he was crazy. Ultimately I get a strand of blue African trade beads. The seller wanted 45€, Jas suggested 10€ they agreed on 15€, but the seller didn’t have change, so we got it for 14€. (You don’t even want to know how much I hate bargaining ….)

With aching feet, we headed back toward the Metro. I had been reading about Laduree, and was sure my sweet-tooth guy would enjoy a stop there. I had located one near the Metro at St-Germain; that would be our next destination.

We went down into the Metro at Porte de Clignancourt. There was a very long line for the ticket machine—we must have waited half an hour. The entire time we were standing in line, young men were offering us (and everyone around us) tickets for 1.5€. We had been warned about this scam. There is no way to tell whether or not a ticket has been used. We were warned that scammers will sell you a used ticket and walk away. When you try to use the ticket it’s refused and your money is gone. We were too smart for them. Finally we got to the front of the line and I couldn’t make my card work in the machine. I didn’t see that the machine would take bills, only coins. (Fast thinking under pressure? Nope!) After struggling with the machine, we stepped aside to rethink our situation. One of the young men walked up to us again. Jas said to him that the ticket was no good. The young man’s English was good enough that he assured us it was good. Jas told him we’d take it, but he would have to put the ticket in while we held the money so we would know it was good. IT WAS GOOD!!! Half-an-hour of our lives we’d never get back. Oh well.

We got off the Metro at St-Germain and came up to a street teeming with people on this holiday weekend Sunday afternoon. The rain had paused and there was music and noise everywhere. At the top of the Metro stairs was a band playing New Orleans jazz. They were great! Then around the corner was a tent where a singing group was performing for hundreds of appreciative fans.

We found Laduree, waited in line for about 15 minutes, then sat in that elegant little tea room and had unique pastries and coffee and tea. How fun to pause in such a legendary establishment. We even got a box of macarons to take home with us.

After our break, we wandered in the rain to find an ATM, then got back on the Metro. When we arrived in Montparnasse, she who is always so sure of where she is and how to navigate strange places couldn’t find her way back through the train station to our hotel. Oops. I’ll probably never live down that episode of our travel lives.

We met up with Mike and Marilyn at dinnertime and went across the street for a light dinner at La petite Bretagne. What a treat to see JJ walk in midway through our dinner with his wife and friends of theirs. He lives just outside Paris and had taken the opportunity to see his wife while directing a tour.

This meal qualified, at least for Jas, as the worst meal of the tour. He ordered his hamburger medium, and it almost walked off the plate. Not good. Ah, but the desserts—an apple tart and a chocolate mousse—were good and saved the meal (she said with a smile).

Day 10

Now a trip I had been trying, unsuccessfully, to make for years: Giverny. The fact that we saw it in the rain only made it more impressionistic and more special.

The gardens, the landscaping, the beauty of this estate. You will just have to see the photos in the gallery below. They describe the gardens far better than I can do with words. Simply wonderful. I’m so glad I had this opportunity.

We got back to the hotel around 1:30 and wandered in the rain a couple of blocks away from the hotel to try to find a restaurant for lunch. We ducked into Le France, a bistro that looked typically Parisian and had a menu printed in French with English subtitles. We each had a bowl of onion soup (okay; not great). Each couple shared an entree. The ladies each had a glass of wine; the guys each had two beers. The tab came in at 100€—about $135. Really? $135? For a nothing-special lunch?!

In shock, we went back to our hotel and did our final packing-up. That evening, still in shock about lunch, we opted for drinks in the hotel bar, followed by finalizing our packing and early bedtimes. We would leave for the airport at 7:30 in the morning.

Homebound

When Jas came down for breakfast at 7:00 (the rest of us were there before him), he had a look of horror on his face. He couldn’t find his money clip, containing dollars, Euros, and his credit cards. We flew into panic mode, after which he found them in his suitcase, in his pants pocket from the night before. Whew! That was a heart-stimulating way to start the trip home.

A shuttle to Charles de Gaulle; a little time spent in the duty free shop picking up last-minute gifts; a very comfortable flight on Air Canada to Toronto; another $100 mid-afternoon meal in the Toronto airport; a not-so-comfortable puddle-jumper flight to Pittsburgh, a shuttle ride home; and two cats who weren’t sure they wanted to let us back into the house. Oh, and many wonderful memories.

Elapsed time
from the door of Novotel Gare Montparnasse
to our home.

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