Exit Paris, stage left
Monday was the day for marathon top-ten bagging. We walked to the Seine and caught the Batobus river shuttle up to the Seine, buying the all-day ticket in the (mistaken) belief that we'd take it back in the evening. The Seine is a bit of a walled ditch, but with enough views of the buildings (Notre Dame, etc.) to make it interesting. Oh, and in case you're in the market for it, there are fancy boats to rent to have your own private cruise with 100 of your closest friends. We got off at the Louvre, and joined the crowd of worshippers at all the famous items: Mona Lisa was a bit small and far away, Venus could have used some new arms, yada, yada. I talked Susan into braving the maze of stairways and passages to find the "northern Europe" wing, with Rubens and such. After all the statuary and giant French canvases it was a bit of a relief.
We then walked up the Champs Elysee to the Arc de Triomphe, which was a bit farther than we expected. I guess that would be the subtext to all of Paris, a bit farther, bigger, more of everything. And we didn't even go to Euro Disney! The walk took us by all of the expensive shopping and restaurants, which we dutifully ignored, except once when Susan needed a sitdown break and I checked out the nearby Renault store, which included an F1 car and tricked-out versions of their retail cars. We arrived at the Arc in time to catch the end of the daily "Unknown Soldier" memorial, complete with military band and WWII vets with their ribbons. All this, with hordes of cars, motorcycles, and buses circling madly in the roundabout.
Then it was onto the Metro to get to the Tour Eiffel, which was only open to the 2d level due to the windy conditions. Great views of the city, somewhat muted initially by the cloudy skies, but then the sun made a brief appearance to help picture-taking. They opened up the top as the winds died down, but we opted to leave since it would be an hour before it got dark enough to be dramatic. Here, as at all the other tourist sites, there were plenty of chances to chat with other tourists: there were a couple of guys from Microsoft in town for an educational conference, and a woman from the East Coast traveling with her daughter who had interned in Ireland for a year.
We got up late the next day (an increasing trend) and headed to Montmartre and Sacre Coeur (see 'Amelie'), which turned out to be the most touristy neighborhood, based on the number of trinket shops. That said, we didn't encounter either of the scams we had at Notre Dame (young non-French women asking 'Do you speak English?' while proferring notes in English asking for help) or near the Grand Palais (young men 'finding' rings on the ground and offering to sell them to you). We toured the interior of Sacre Coeur, another massive basilica with lots of unused naves, then decided to check out the crypt below. The guide directed us to some stairs, which took us to the top of the belltowers, with about the narrowest windy steps we'd encountered yet, and of course, 40mph winds at the top. We finally got back down to the crypt, which turned out to be the basement with more naves, chairs and furniture stored everywhere, and a beautiful chapel in the middle. There was also a room full of paraphenalia from soldiers who had returned from war. We then wound our way down the hill to the Montparnasse cemetery, where Susan chose not to accompany me on my stroll thru the graves and monuments. The only one I recognized was Francois Truffaut, but the overall impression was of the inevitability of decay of manmade stuff, including headstones.
We made a short foray into the Marais district to see the Place de Vosges, a pocket park with lovely buildings around it, and the Jewish temple which had a lot fewer Jews than the before WWII, obviously. We then found our way home and went for dinner to a place our landlord had recommended, which turned out to have changed hands a few months ago. It was inexpensive but boring/traditional: I had duck and Susan the lamb, both of which were edible but uninspired.
Wednesday we took the SCNF train out to Versaille. Just when we thought we had the Metro figured out (many trips with transfers the previous few days), we got on the wrong train first, having paid not enough attention to the signs, having to retrace a couple of stations, then picked the wrong train the next time, retrace again, finally on the right one, net loss 10 minutes. We spent a lot of time staring at the station maps on the trains, thus marking us as tourists, as if the backpacks and English conversations when noone else was talking wasn't enough. The SCNF took us through the suburbs, with a noticeable increase in graffiti, if that's possible given the tagging that's everywhere in central Paris. No burning cars, though. A ~mile walk from the station and a 3-euro soft drink at a cafe later, we joined the parade through the opulent, no-cost-barred apartments. It would have been surreal to be there with the original inhabitants, and to see their downfall. But that day, it was wall-to-wall tour groups and digital cameras. We then strolled through the gardens, passing up the chance to rent a boat or a bicycle, but enjoying an ice cream while watching the other tourists as usual. Then off to the Grand Trianon aka Marie Antoinette's digs, which were vastly understated compared to the main chateau, no multicolored marble or gilded trim, and easy access to the gardens and her 'farm'.
On the way back to the apartment, we stopped for dinner (note that it was almost 8:30, in Paris tradition) at Le Petit Pontoise, a little bistrot in the San Germain district. This was the blowout last-night dinner, and was excellent, as one would hope plunking down 100euro. My scallops in a light curry or korma sauce and Susan's duck filet in a fruit sauce were perfectly cooked, but the salads, an artichoke heart with greens for me and beet/cheese for Susan, were also excellent. Highly recommended, and the two young guys serving were pretty cute, too, according to Susan.
Today, we head for the Eurostar (Chunnel) to London, arriving midafternoon. We'll probably take it easy there and rest the dogs.
We then walked up the Champs Elysee to the Arc de Triomphe, which was a bit farther than we expected. I guess that would be the subtext to all of Paris, a bit farther, bigger, more of everything. And we didn't even go to Euro Disney! The walk took us by all of the expensive shopping and restaurants, which we dutifully ignored, except once when Susan needed a sitdown break and I checked out the nearby Renault store, which included an F1 car and tricked-out versions of their retail cars. We arrived at the Arc in time to catch the end of the daily "Unknown Soldier" memorial, complete with military band and WWII vets with their ribbons. All this, with hordes of cars, motorcycles, and buses circling madly in the roundabout.
Then it was onto the Metro to get to the Tour Eiffel, which was only open to the 2d level due to the windy conditions. Great views of the city, somewhat muted initially by the cloudy skies, but then the sun made a brief appearance to help picture-taking. They opened up the top as the winds died down, but we opted to leave since it would be an hour before it got dark enough to be dramatic. Here, as at all the other tourist sites, there were plenty of chances to chat with other tourists: there were a couple of guys from Microsoft in town for an educational conference, and a woman from the East Coast traveling with her daughter who had interned in Ireland for a year.
We got up late the next day (an increasing trend) and headed to Montmartre and Sacre Coeur (see 'Amelie'), which turned out to be the most touristy neighborhood, based on the number of trinket shops. That said, we didn't encounter either of the scams we had at Notre Dame (young non-French women asking 'Do you speak English?' while proferring notes in English asking for help) or near the Grand Palais (young men 'finding' rings on the ground and offering to sell them to you). We toured the interior of Sacre Coeur, another massive basilica with lots of unused naves, then decided to check out the crypt below. The guide directed us to some stairs, which took us to the top of the belltowers, with about the narrowest windy steps we'd encountered yet, and of course, 40mph winds at the top. We finally got back down to the crypt, which turned out to be the basement with more naves, chairs and furniture stored everywhere, and a beautiful chapel in the middle. There was also a room full of paraphenalia from soldiers who had returned from war. We then wound our way down the hill to the Montparnasse cemetery, where Susan chose not to accompany me on my stroll thru the graves and monuments. The only one I recognized was Francois Truffaut, but the overall impression was of the inevitability of decay of manmade stuff, including headstones.
We made a short foray into the Marais district to see the Place de Vosges, a pocket park with lovely buildings around it, and the Jewish temple which had a lot fewer Jews than the before WWII, obviously. We then found our way home and went for dinner to a place our landlord had recommended, which turned out to have changed hands a few months ago. It was inexpensive but boring/traditional: I had duck and Susan the lamb, both of which were edible but uninspired.
Wednesday we took the SCNF train out to Versaille. Just when we thought we had the Metro figured out (many trips with transfers the previous few days), we got on the wrong train first, having paid not enough attention to the signs, having to retrace a couple of stations, then picked the wrong train the next time, retrace again, finally on the right one, net loss 10 minutes. We spent a lot of time staring at the station maps on the trains, thus marking us as tourists, as if the backpacks and English conversations when noone else was talking wasn't enough. The SCNF took us through the suburbs, with a noticeable increase in graffiti, if that's possible given the tagging that's everywhere in central Paris. No burning cars, though. A ~mile walk from the station and a 3-euro soft drink at a cafe later, we joined the parade through the opulent, no-cost-barred apartments. It would have been surreal to be there with the original inhabitants, and to see their downfall. But that day, it was wall-to-wall tour groups and digital cameras. We then strolled through the gardens, passing up the chance to rent a boat or a bicycle, but enjoying an ice cream while watching the other tourists as usual. Then off to the Grand Trianon aka Marie Antoinette's digs, which were vastly understated compared to the main chateau, no multicolored marble or gilded trim, and easy access to the gardens and her 'farm'.
On the way back to the apartment, we stopped for dinner (note that it was almost 8:30, in Paris tradition) at Le Petit Pontoise, a little bistrot in the San Germain district. This was the blowout last-night dinner, and was excellent, as one would hope plunking down 100euro. My scallops in a light curry or korma sauce and Susan's duck filet in a fruit sauce were perfectly cooked, but the salads, an artichoke heart with greens for me and beet/cheese for Susan, were also excellent. Highly recommended, and the two young guys serving were pretty cute, too, according to Susan.
Today, we head for the Eurostar (Chunnel) to London, arriving midafternoon. We'll probably take it easy there and rest the dogs.