Paris, day 2: Surprises, Delights, and Lights
My first order of business today was to get some bread to accompany the breakfast Elizabeth was to prepare for us. I headed toward Rue Monge, where E's Google-fu showed us that most of the local boulangeries and other food-related business resided. As I approached Rue Monge, I realized that the square that fronted the line of food-related shops I'd noticed yesterday was filled with the tents of street vendors. It was a farmer's market!
I didn't allow myself to be immediately distracted, however. I headed straight for the boulangerie and bought a small loaf of thick-crusted bread shaped in a sort of domed square, golden brown and still dusted with flour. Then, because one must have cheese if one has bread, I stopped at the charcouterie next door. The cheese people were dressed in crisp, white clothes and aprons. Both tall, thin, and dark haired (they could have been related--and probably were), they were polite and friendly, very helpful. The cheese wasn't just sitting in cases; it was staged, presented like the valuable, delicious food it is, whether on cutting boards or stacked neatly on raised cake plates or laid out in creative patterns. It was something to see. With my limited budget, I bought a small wheel of goat cheese with a lovely, moldy crust. (The taste turned out to be mild and slightly savory, a flavor that blossomed in the mouth rather than landing hard with one note. Delicieux!) Only after that did I poke about the vendors a bit. I purchased a little tub of tiny strawberries (which were little bombs of sweet berry sweetness--just what strawberries ought to be). And then I stopped at a table piled with tins of foie gras. Mainly, I stopped to look and marvel at all the different ways one might package foi gras, the shapes of the cans and so on. And to marvel at the whole idea of foie gras as a product at a farmer's market. The lady behind the table smiled at me, we chatted a little, as we could, and then she offered me tastes of the top two foi gras on the table. Foie gras is chopped duck liver, and it is food of the gods. I couldn't have been more surprised at her offer or delighted by the tastes that filled my mouth. It was wonderful stuff. I know that a vendor offering a taste is merely good business, but I was so delighted by the offer and the way my mouth filled with these rich, mildly savory flavors, I couldn't have been more pleased. It was a beyond-perfect way to start the day.
After a delicious breakfast made by my most-generous roomie, we arranged to meet setsyoustraight and her husband later in the day, and then we went to the Crypte Archeologique beneath Notre Dame. The crypt is actually a gallery that displays excavations of ancient building foundations and features that date back to Roman times through the 18th century, so that in one display you'll see Gallo-Roman building foundations and walls belonging to foundling hospitals and government buildings. Two things impressed me right away: the extensiveness of the excavations, and the cheek-by-jowl nature of the time streams. Paris--Lutece by one of its other names--has been built and destroyed, built and destroyed, lost, found, and rebuilt--again and again over time. Given the nature of this mishmash of destruction and evolution, some of the history explained in the historical narrative along the outside walls was a little confusing, even with the beautiful watercolor illustrations showing the city's various incarnations through time; the exhibits could have benefited from some infographics placing events in context. It was nevertheless fascinating stuff, and I'm glad we spent the time getting a little historical grounding.
From there, we walked into the 6th arrondissement to the St Germaine de Pres neighborhood to have lunch at Les Deux Magots. It was lovely to see setsyoustraight and her husband, and to eat lunch at such a well-known location. We ate on the street (as one does). I enjoyed the Croque Monsieur, and then E and I shared a dessert: a layer of raspberries sandwiched in a pink macaron with rose-flavored cream. E and I then stopped so she could pick up a gift for her son and so I could get some postcards. We also stopped at deNeuville Chocolat Francais to buy ourselves little treats. I purchased a four-piece box that turned out to include two cremes, a salt caramel and something else I haven't identified yet that looks like dark chocolate with salt and nuts. I've decided to have one each night before bed.
Our original idea was to meet my friends and explore the Catacombs, but Ms. Straight's feet were a mess and we opted not to do the tour. I was disappointed and still want to do it, but it was a nice visit nevertheless. After a brief interlude at the apartment, we decided that another excursion for the day was in order. We hopped the subway to go see the Eiffel Tower. This was our first time delving into the subway and with some planning and investigation we navigated our way there without a hitch.
First--and again--I must start by saying that nothing prepares you for the size of the Eiffel Tower. You don't see the thing at first when you come out of the subway. You walk for about five minutes and suddenly it's there looming over the trees. Sure, one sees pictures, but it is massive, a beautiful, delicate spire of enormous size. One thing that one rarely gets from photographs is the beauty of the scroll work and the way the girders criss-cross each other, the gentle curve of the corner edges as the tower reaches for the sky. We admired the tower from a couple of different angles, took many pictures, and then decided we didn't need to go up; just being there was enough.
One thing we've noticed at both the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame is women posing like 1960s models in front of each place. We saw this four or five times at the tower alone (I'll post pictures later). It's just kind of a funny meme: Here I am being sexy at a Paris landmark! We have both been amused by this phenomenon.
Dinner was at an Italian restaurant called Alfio. Our waiter was a handsome, charming young Frenchman, dark haired and dark eyed with a subtle, knowing smile. Dinner was spaghetti bolognese with more delicious, crusty bread, and a glass of red wine. We then headed home, admiring the golden light shed over the Eiffel Tower as we walked toward the subway.
Some observations I wanted to note:
Everywhere you go, restaurants use properly-sized tea spoons, which delights me no end for some reason. Proper, smaller spoons for preparing and drinking tea feels so civilized and it pleases me.
Outdoor seating at cafes always faces out. In most places, companions sit side by side so they can observe the parade of passersby as they eat or drink and talk. People watching is a popular sport here.
I am not seeing the emphasis on vegetables here that I have become used to. Salads are more about what one puts on the greens--be it cheese, bread, meat--than the greens and vegetables themselves. While I am not pining for vegetables, I do find myself aware of their scarcity. I'll be watching menus over the days to see if this observation bears out.
setsyoustraight summed up Paris from her perspective in an entertaining way: "Paris: It's like New York, only with better shoes."
Tonight's chocolate: Milk chocolate outer with dark creme interior
Total steps for the day: 18,316
I didn't allow myself to be immediately distracted, however. I headed straight for the boulangerie and bought a small loaf of thick-crusted bread shaped in a sort of domed square, golden brown and still dusted with flour. Then, because one must have cheese if one has bread, I stopped at the charcouterie next door. The cheese people were dressed in crisp, white clothes and aprons. Both tall, thin, and dark haired (they could have been related--and probably were), they were polite and friendly, very helpful. The cheese wasn't just sitting in cases; it was staged, presented like the valuable, delicious food it is, whether on cutting boards or stacked neatly on raised cake plates or laid out in creative patterns. It was something to see. With my limited budget, I bought a small wheel of goat cheese with a lovely, moldy crust. (The taste turned out to be mild and slightly savory, a flavor that blossomed in the mouth rather than landing hard with one note. Delicieux!) Only after that did I poke about the vendors a bit. I purchased a little tub of tiny strawberries (which were little bombs of sweet berry sweetness--just what strawberries ought to be). And then I stopped at a table piled with tins of foie gras. Mainly, I stopped to look and marvel at all the different ways one might package foi gras, the shapes of the cans and so on. And to marvel at the whole idea of foie gras as a product at a farmer's market. The lady behind the table smiled at me, we chatted a little, as we could, and then she offered me tastes of the top two foi gras on the table. Foie gras is chopped duck liver, and it is food of the gods. I couldn't have been more surprised at her offer or delighted by the tastes that filled my mouth. It was wonderful stuff. I know that a vendor offering a taste is merely good business, but I was so delighted by the offer and the way my mouth filled with these rich, mildly savory flavors, I couldn't have been more pleased. It was a beyond-perfect way to start the day.
After a delicious breakfast made by my most-generous roomie, we arranged to meet setsyoustraight and her husband later in the day, and then we went to the Crypte Archeologique beneath Notre Dame. The crypt is actually a gallery that displays excavations of ancient building foundations and features that date back to Roman times through the 18th century, so that in one display you'll see Gallo-Roman building foundations and walls belonging to foundling hospitals and government buildings. Two things impressed me right away: the extensiveness of the excavations, and the cheek-by-jowl nature of the time streams. Paris--Lutece by one of its other names--has been built and destroyed, built and destroyed, lost, found, and rebuilt--again and again over time. Given the nature of this mishmash of destruction and evolution, some of the history explained in the historical narrative along the outside walls was a little confusing, even with the beautiful watercolor illustrations showing the city's various incarnations through time; the exhibits could have benefited from some infographics placing events in context. It was nevertheless fascinating stuff, and I'm glad we spent the time getting a little historical grounding.
From there, we walked into the 6th arrondissement to the St Germaine de Pres neighborhood to have lunch at Les Deux Magots. It was lovely to see setsyoustraight and her husband, and to eat lunch at such a well-known location. We ate on the street (as one does). I enjoyed the Croque Monsieur, and then E and I shared a dessert: a layer of raspberries sandwiched in a pink macaron with rose-flavored cream. E and I then stopped so she could pick up a gift for her son and so I could get some postcards. We also stopped at deNeuville Chocolat Francais to buy ourselves little treats. I purchased a four-piece box that turned out to include two cremes, a salt caramel and something else I haven't identified yet that looks like dark chocolate with salt and nuts. I've decided to have one each night before bed.
Our original idea was to meet my friends and explore the Catacombs, but Ms. Straight's feet were a mess and we opted not to do the tour. I was disappointed and still want to do it, but it was a nice visit nevertheless. After a brief interlude at the apartment, we decided that another excursion for the day was in order. We hopped the subway to go see the Eiffel Tower. This was our first time delving into the subway and with some planning and investigation we navigated our way there without a hitch.
First--and again--I must start by saying that nothing prepares you for the size of the Eiffel Tower. You don't see the thing at first when you come out of the subway. You walk for about five minutes and suddenly it's there looming over the trees. Sure, one sees pictures, but it is massive, a beautiful, delicate spire of enormous size. One thing that one rarely gets from photographs is the beauty of the scroll work and the way the girders criss-cross each other, the gentle curve of the corner edges as the tower reaches for the sky. We admired the tower from a couple of different angles, took many pictures, and then decided we didn't need to go up; just being there was enough.
One thing we've noticed at both the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame is women posing like 1960s models in front of each place. We saw this four or five times at the tower alone (I'll post pictures later). It's just kind of a funny meme: Here I am being sexy at a Paris landmark! We have both been amused by this phenomenon.
Dinner was at an Italian restaurant called Alfio. Our waiter was a handsome, charming young Frenchman, dark haired and dark eyed with a subtle, knowing smile. Dinner was spaghetti bolognese with more delicious, crusty bread, and a glass of red wine. We then headed home, admiring the golden light shed over the Eiffel Tower as we walked toward the subway.
Some observations I wanted to note:
Everywhere you go, restaurants use properly-sized tea spoons, which delights me no end for some reason. Proper, smaller spoons for preparing and drinking tea feels so civilized and it pleases me.
Outdoor seating at cafes always faces out. In most places, companions sit side by side so they can observe the parade of passersby as they eat or drink and talk. People watching is a popular sport here.
I am not seeing the emphasis on vegetables here that I have become used to. Salads are more about what one puts on the greens--be it cheese, bread, meat--than the greens and vegetables themselves. While I am not pining for vegetables, I do find myself aware of their scarcity. I'll be watching menus over the days to see if this observation bears out.
setsyoustraight summed up Paris from her perspective in an entertaining way: "Paris: It's like New York, only with better shoes."
Tonight's chocolate: Milk chocolate outer with dark creme interior
Total steps for the day: 18,316