Paris: Day VII

 image from: The Louvre website

The Louvre is a mega-museum. It was raining and chilly when we got there. We looked at the line snaking around the Pyramid and wondered how long the wait would be. We decided to just get in line and see. It probably took 45 minutes to get in, but when we compared it to the wait we saw stacking up behind us, it seemed reasonable. Note for a future visit: GET TICKETS AHEAD OF TIME. DON'T WAIT IN LINE.

As I said, the Louvre is enormous. From Wiki:

the Louvre Museum or simply the Louvre – is one of the world's largest museums, the most visited art museum in the world and a historic monument. A central landmark of Paris, it is located on the Right Bank of the Seine in the 1st arrondissement (district). Nearly 35,000 objects from prehistory to the 19th century are exhibited over an area of 60,600 square metres (652,300 square feet).

Once we got inside, we had to 1) buy the tickets and 2) figure out what we wanted to see and how to get there. There were several ticket booths, all with long lines:

(Each large cluster of people is a ticket booth)

We looked at the floor plan to try to figure out which small portion of the museum we wanted to see, knowing that there was no way we would be able to see even a fraction of what's there - also knowing that we are both fairly intense when we are looking at art: we read about each piece, we talk about them, we take our time... So:

We decided to go up to the 2nd floor in the Richlieu wing to see the 15th-17th century Dutch, German, and Flemish paintings. We had to pass some French paintings in the Sully wing on our way to Richlieu. Now, I realize how this sounds: "having to pass the French paintings." It's not that we want to see them, it's just that when you know you'll feel a sensory overload because you can't not stop, look at, admire, read about each one you pass, you want to just rush to get to the thing you've finally decided you wanted to see.

We did stop for a few. I guess I never knew that Monet painted winter scenes:

(Doesn't this look like it could be a snowy road in Vermont?)

After admiring a few rooms of Dutch, German, and Flemish art,

we realized that we'd seen quite a lot of Dutch, German, and Flemish art recently (both here in Vienna and in Amsterdam), so we made a plan to go back downstairs and out of the Richlieu wing over to the Denon wing to see the 13th - 18th century Italian paintings. We consulted the floor plan (again):

We took some breaks to appreciate the view outside.

Here's another thing I didn't know: artists can receive permission to paint copies of the works in the Louvre - in fact, there's quite a long tradition of painters - called "copyists" doing this. Here's an interesting article about this from Smithsonian Magazine.

To get to the Italian paintings, we went through the decorative arts in the Richlieu wing (purple rooms 1 - 7 in the floor plan above). This wasn't our plan, but we got to see some stunning pieces from the Middle Ages.

We passed the Winged Victory of Samothrace:

And got to the Italian paintings:

So very much to see.

I told M that I refused, on some kind of principle, to go with the crowd to see the Mona Lisa. I don't like the idea that one piece gets so much attention. My mother, upon hearing this, exclaimed that it was completely ridiculous to have gone all that way and not to have seen it. I actually did see it, but I was tricked into it. As I was looking at some paintings (after having made my pronouncements about the Mona Lisa), M poked his head from around a corner and said "check this out!" I looked, and there she was. She was exactly as she seems. Hrrrumph.

After the museum, we picked up my skirt that had been altered at Curling and M got me a marvelous gift - a black velvet knee-length coat with gorgeous silvery-gray lining inside and behind the collar. It's stunning. Of course, I didn't open it until Christmas...

We had plans to meet a friend/colleague of M's parents for a drink before dinner. He directs an exchange and homestay program for international students in Paris. He was charming and took us to a terrific little wine bar near our hotel. Our waiter was witty - striking the perfect balance between teasing us and giving us great service. After that, we strolled down to a place we'd seen a few nights before just off Rue Mazarine on Rue de Seine called La Palette. They weren't really serving dinner and we were quite hungry (notice I didn't tell you about lunch? No lunch). A nice Spanish-speaking waiter sent us just across the way to Bistrot Mazarin where we had steak frites and roasted chicken.

On our stroll back to our hotel, we walked by a couple smooching in front of La Coloniale, a small Cambodian restaurant. They yelled their recommendation to us through tipsy giggles: "You must eat here - there's no place like it in Paris!"

We'll see.

Paris: Days V & VI

DAY V

Off M went, early in the morning, to his training. My only plan was to further examine some of the shops we'd seen on Sunday, and to go to a few that I'd put on the map before our trip. And lunch.

I retraced our steps down Rue du Bac to find:

Monoprix - a department store that also has food. I picked up a few things there and continued on...

to Curling, a lovely store with beautiful, simple clothing. The salesclerk was sweet and helped me pick out a few things. I left with a gorgeous navy wool jacket, with fuchsia lining, a couple of merino turtlenecks, and a piece of paper. The piece of paper was to pick up the skirt they were altering for me. Such nice service - a great store. I was excited to bring M there to show him all the things I didn't buy!

I crossed St. Germain and continued on Rue du Bac to Rue de Sèvres to La Grand Épicerie de Paris at Le Bon Marché Department Store. It didn't occur to me to take any photos while I was there, but it was incredible. Food from all over the world - beautifully, if overwhelmingly, displayed. I didn't buy anything because it just seemed that there was too, too much. It was easier just to look and not touch anything.

My plan was to take the Sèvres - Babylone‎ metro (#10) to Odéon‎, then switch to (#4) to Châtelet‎ - Les Halles. There were a few stores I wanted to visit in this area:

G. Detou - after having read David Lebovitz's piece, I knew I would have to go there. It's a small, extraordinarily well-stocked food store. Take a look at his photos - they're way better than mine would have been. I didn't buy anything there, either. I think I should have.

From there, I popped into A. Simon on Rue Montmartre - a cookware shop with lots of goodies. I didn't buy any because my real destination was E. Dehillerin - an even bigger cookware shop.

Closed Mondays. Oh well. I would return on Tuesday.

Then, lots more walking and getting hungry. I stumbled upon Le Pain Quotidien on Rue Petits Carreaux. I didn't really realize that it's a Belgian chain, or that they have U.S. bakeries. It just looked and smelled really good. I had a vegetarian pot-au-feu (which was basically vegetable soup with quinoa in it, which was wonderful and which I've already tried to replicate). While I was there, the waiters were spray painting winter scenes on the windows with "snow." They let me do one.

I also took a look at Alain Coumont's book.

Fortified, I walked and walked and browsed all the way back to our neighborhood. Cold and tired, I got a coffee and made notes about my day.

We had crepes and cidre for dinner. I was wrong about Day IV... we only had cidre at the creperie the night before, having stuffed ourselves a mere few hours earlier.


DAY VI

My plan for Tuesday was to go out to a famous second-hand store which is on the outskirts of Paris, and then clear across the city to some other shops I'd read about. It was the perfect solo excursion, as M really doesn't like the metro, and this was going to require quite a lot of the metro.

The route: from Odéon (#10), 11 stops to Michel-Ange – Auteuil (there was a saxophone player playing loudly right next to me on this entire route), switch to #9 to Rue de la Pompe (a guy selling flowers sat right next to me, incessantly trying to sell me flowers). I walked to Reciproque.

"Open in 1978 on 1 500 square feet by Nicole Morel, young press attaché at that time, RECIPROQUE has expended 30 years later to 7 500 square feet. This second-hand shop of luxury items, the biggest one in Paris, offers in its 6 boutiques, all next to each others on Rue de la Pompe, several tens of thousands of FASHION items of COUTURE and French, Italian, Japanese, Belgium, American,….and all over the world DESIGNERS, as well as home articles and modernes and antiques Jewelleries."

It was a great place to browse, filled with very fancy, fancy second-hand things. I was going to take a bunch of artfully-composed photos with our big camera, but I heard a clerk scolding someone who was taking pictures, so I took one surreptitiously with M's phone and gave up.

I did learn a valuable lesson, however. As I was leaving, a chicly-dressed woman came in with a big snazzy camera (like our big snazzy camera). She spoke, in French, to the clerk. I gathered from their conversation that the woman had called ahead and gotten permission to do a photo shoot FOR HER BLOG. She was given free reign to take photos and arrange things and otherwise breeze around the shop with her chic clothes and tall boots and big camera. I HAVE A BLOG. AN INTERNATIONAL BLOG (meaning that a handful of very kind people who happen to live in several countries read it). I have a big camera. I have tall boots. I could have called ahead. Next time, I will. A very good lesson!

I left the women's boutique empty-handed. Nope, no handbag, no jewels, no couture anything pour moi. It was fun, though, to find an Hermès bunny tie for M at the men's boutique.

From there, I went clear across Paris (#9 to Roosevelt; #1 to Bastille) to check out Le Bonheur des Dames, an embroidery shop I'd read about in Paris Made by Hand. It was a terrific place, full of project ideas that are completely unrealistic but inspiring. "Unrealistic" in the sense that when I see these things, like an enormous embroidered heirloom tablecloth pattern, I unrealistically think that

A) I know how to embroider;
B) That it wouldn't take that long to do; and
C) That I would ever use it if I'd spent as long as it really would take to make it.

I did find, however, a very small project:

It reminds me of the embroidery my Farmor used to do. I also got some fetching fabric for a project that has yet to reveal itself to me:

It was absolutely worth the travel to go there. Here's a nice piece about the place.

My next task was to check out the Church of Saint-Séverin, also in our neighborhood, to see if it might be a nice option for Christmas Eve. I made my way back... this time:

I took care to map my way to the church. It was beautiful and easy to find. I went inside. Beautiful. Great - another terrific option for Christmas. Except... it seemed familiar. That's because it was Saint Sulpice, not Saint-Séverin. Whoops. So, I went from there to the actual Saint-Séverin.

It was also beautiful outside:

But I wasn't crazy about the modern stained glass windows inside:

I was ready for a coffee, so I sat in a cafe right by our hotel and rested for a bit. Next to me was a scene that has probably played out as long as there have been French boys and foreign girls...

She (in German accent): "But I don't want to go home. I never want the semester to end."
He (in French accent): "You could stay at my flat for a few days..." (touching her legs under the table).
She: "I don't want to see my boyfriend. I've grown apart from him. My parents are fond of him, but he is not exciting like you."
He: "Yes. I have to see my girlfriend at Christmas, but she doesn't understand me the way you do."
She: "I hate this." (fighting tears).
He: "It is very difficult for so many reasons... I do not want to be without you."
She: "If you are meant to be with someone, you will know it..."
He: "I want to be with you now, that is all I know."
She (crying): "Tomorrow I will wake up in Germany and think this was all a dream."
He: "Maybe it was."

Sigh.

Dinner at Les Deux Magots was an unexpected surprise - no reservations - and was delightful.

All a dream.

Paris: Day IV

http://www.ionbee.net/media/parismetromap.jpg

Part of the reason we were in Paris was that M had a professional training about 45 minutes away. We wanted to make sure his first day there (Day V) was smooth, so we decided to do a trial run out to the training site. It required a Metro ride to Les Halles, then a switch to the RER train. The question, really, was how to get to the training place once we got off the train. Apparently, during the week there is a shuttle bus, but we wanted to see if we could find it by walking.

It was strange to leave bustling, beautiful Paris and arrive in a suburb. It was quiet - people walking, kids on bikes and scooters, barking dogs. It was ordinary and that felt so strange. In fact, now that I think about it, just being in a suburb of anywhere feels a bit strange because I guess I've gotten used to city life. Of course, as cities go, Vienna is pretty quiet - but it's still a city.

We walked down residential streets, following the walking directions given by the training facility, until we got to a big building, seemingly dropped onto the edge of a neighborhood. This was the place... except that there was no clear entrance. We walked around to find the front of the building and anything that resembled an entrance. And walked. Around. Finally, a tiny, somewhat ambiguous sign appeared. We realized that we could have walked directly from the train station down a main street, made one left turn, and gotten here about 10 minutes earlier. That's what M would do on Monday.

Once we got back to Paris, we were a bit cold from the trip - what better excuse to get a chocolat chaud at La Maison Angelina on Rue de Rivoli? We'd read about the thick, creamy, decadent hot chocolate and wanted to give it a try. Apparently, everyone else in Paris wanted to do the same - the line out the door stretched the length of the block. Never mind.

We crossed the street over to the Tuileries and walked in the blustering wind and afternoon sunshine. It was fairly empty,

But there was an outdoor cafe selling vin chaud, so we got some and sat down on some metal chairs in the park to drink them - what a romantic, Parisian thing to do! (Except, of course, there were no actual Parisians doing this because it was freezing cold out).

By now, it was mid-afternoon and we hadn't eaten since the croissants that morning, so we walked to try to find a spot for lunch. We crossed the Pont Royale and made our way down Rue du Bac. We found a brasserie that looked interesting. We stopped there, but the waiter near the doorway told us that they were not open for lunch and dinner service wouldn't start for a few hours. He was sort of brusque with us, but the place looked nice, so after walking away, we decided maybe we would find out if they would be open for Christmas Eve dinner (having still not made reservations anywhere). "Oui, we will be open." "May we make reservations?" "Oui. Vingt et un heures et demi." (Great. Now what time was that, exactly? 21:30. Subtract... okay - 9:30 pm). This would give us enough time to get to a midnight Mass. "Parfait. Merci." We gave him our name, which he did not write down, and we left. We didn't like him at all, but we felt hopeful about the place. More on that later.

We wandered down Rue du Bac, noticing some lovely shops and making mental notes to return. Starving, we found Comptoir des Saint-Pères, a wonderful little bistro full of regulars, eccentrics, and well, us.

Did I mention that we were hungry by then? Perhaps a charcuterie plate to start:

Followed by an omelet and Le Club Thon:

Whew! Our waiter was charming, funny, and energetic - as were all the other people working there. The place was filled with laughter and playful banter. The woman who making M's coffee asked for his name:

Fortified, we finally left this cozy place and walked up Rue des Saint-Pères and over to the Chapel of the Miraculous Medal on Rue du Bac. It was crowded and felt touristy. It's odd how some places can be crowded with tourists and still feel special, while others lose that quality when they are overrun with people. That's how this chapel felt to me - like it had lost the qualities that made it so popular to begin with.

From there, we walked over to Saint Sulpice, where we thought we might go for Mass on Christmas Eve. What a contrast - even though it is huge and full of tourists, it felt special. From the fountain in front,

to its majestic exterior,

to the incredible details inside,

everything about Saint Sulpice felt special, intimate, and just right for Christmas Eve.

From there, we walked the few blocks back to our street and had a light dinner of crêpes and cidre at La Créperie Saint Germain. It's a small place, where you walk by the woman making the crêpes right by the door. The air is slightly smokey from the butter heating up in the skillets, and each crêpe is made to order. The savory crêpes are called galettes, from Normandy and Brittany, and are made with buckwheat flour. (Here's a recipe from David Lebovitz). Galettes are often accompanied by hard cider - "cidre" - which is traditionally served in ceramic bowls.

Stay tuned for Day V: M goes to his training and Ellen takes on Paris by herself.