Au Revoir, Paris

Our last full day in Paris--a cool, cloudy Sunday with brief spurts of rain--was very much like our first one just 28 days ago. Our plan for the day was to soak up as much Parisian ambiance as possible, which meant strolling east along the banks of the Seine toward Notre Dame, stopping for lunch in a café, and combing the streets of our St. Germain neighborhood one last time. At Notre Dame we lit a candle for our two-day-old grandson, Patrick, in a side chapel dedicated to St. Etienne (a very fitting chapel indeed: Etienne translates to Steven, which is Patrick's middle name and his grandfather's name). After lunch we returned to St. Germain to check out the grounds of the École des Beaux Arts and engage in a little lèche-vitrine (window-licking) of the boutiques and galleries. Although we knew the neighborhood far better than we did one month ago, we still got turned around trying to find the Delacroix Museum, which is tucked away in a little square just a few blocks north of the Boulevard St. Germain.

A little footsore from all the walking, we returned to our apartment to pack our bags, then went out at the unheard-of hour of 5:30 to have dinner at Léon de Bruxelles, our favorite place for moules-frites. Our table looked directly onto the Boulevard St. Germain, and I'm certain I saw Clint Eastwood walk by as I was pulling a mussel from its shell.

Knowing that our airport shuttle would pick us up at 5:15 a.m. the next morning, we went to bed early with memories of our dream time in the world's most beautiful city soothing us into a peaceful night's sleep. À la prochaine, Paris!

Passages

Today we set out to explore the passages of Paris--the covered alleyways built in the 1800s that, according to the Michelin Guide, "were once popular shopping and meeting places where Parisians could stroll peacefully and at a safe distance from the many horses in the streets." The ones we saw today are clustered in an area north of the Louvre, in the 1st and 9th arrondisements. Most of the passages declined in popularity in the 20C, but some have been restored and are now enjoying a revival of sorts. Walking through the arcades today gave us a feeling for turn-of-the-century Paris, and we, too, enjoyed being at a safe distance from motorbikes and tour buses.

The first passage we walked through was the Passage Verdeau, which had a large antique shop and seconhand bookshops:

From there we crossed directly into the Passage Jouffroy, the first arcade to be heated. Hotel Chopin anchors one end of the passage:

Once outside, we crossed the street and entered the Passage des Panoramas, built in 1800:

We liked the Panoramas' little restaurants and cozy ambience:
The last one we walked through was the Galerie Vivienne, which is said to be the most elegant of the city's passages (we thought it was a little too snooty):

Why French Women Don't Get Fat

It must be because they smoke, walk their dogs at all hours, eat rare biftek with salade instead of frites, and actually heed the advice that accompanies every food and drink ad in France: don't snack between meals; it's dangerous to eat too much fat, salt, and sugar; regular exercise leads to better health.

Obviously they don't have the same diet as a certain American tourist, who drinks two large hot chocolates in a day, one with a Gibraltar-sized hunk of whipped cream, the other so thick (à l'ancienne) that the spoon stands straight up in the cup. They don't eat huge buttery croissants every day for breakfast or order giant chicken-tomato-mayo sandwiches on a freshly baked sesame seed baguette for lunch. They couldn't possibly have three flavors of gelato for a mid-afternoon snack, accompanied by dark-chocolate truffles or mouth-watering macaroons. And I'm certain that they don't have eggplant caviar and fresh goat cheese on crackers along with their late-afternoon kir. Their dinners must not feature homemade fettucine with garlic and cream sauce followed by giant hot-fudge sundaes.

Or maybe they do eat the same food as a blimped-out American tourist but share half of it with their dogs. Come to think of it, we do see lots of plump little chiens in our neighborhood.

Hot on the Trail

We went from shivering at bus stops to sweltering on the pavement--Paris weather did an about-face that took us by surprise. We were eager for warm weather, but we'd forgotten how hard it is to be intrepid tourists on a really hot day. The météo said the heat and humidity wouldn't last long, but meanwhile we knew we had to find a way to enjoy the city without collapsing in a sweaty heap. Steve suggested that we keep cool by returning to Pere-Lachaise Cemetery where we could try to locate the tomb of François-Joseph LeFebvre, one of Napoleon's generals who, according to LaFave family lore, is the fam's most illustrious ancestor. We bought a map of the cemetery at a newsstand outside the gates, but it only listed the most famous of the hundreds of politicians, writers, musicians, artists, and other celebrities buried there. Fortunately the cemetery's office was open, and with the help of a friendly government worker (the cemetery is under the purview of the Paris municipal government), we were able to pinpoint the exact location of Maréchal LeFebvre's tomb. We decided that the best way to prove the family connection was to have Steve pose next to the alleged ancestor's bronze bust and compare facial features. Our conclusion? If Steve shaved his beard, he could pass for François-Joseph's hotter younger brother.

A Typical Day

We wake up around 8, take showers, and Steve goes out to the bakery for croissants. When he returns we have a breakfast of hot chocolate, yogurt, fresh fruit, and croissants with jam. After breakfast I plan the day's itinerary, which might include a museum and/or a stroll through a far-flung neighborhood. Lunch can be a sandwich on a park bench or a salad in a café. Today followed the usual pattern: by subway to the Champs-Elysées to see the Biodiversity Festival, again on the subway to the Jacquemart-Andrée Museum, on foot to Monceau Park (crêpes from the concession stand for lunch), and home by subway. We check email until 5 o'clock or so, and then we start the evening with kir (white wine and crème de cassis) and little nibbles--olives and crackers with tapenade or eggplant caviar. Dinner is sometimes at home, sometimes at a nearby restaurant. If we eat at home, we assemble our meal from the deli at Monoprix or one of the traiteurs at the Marché Saint-Germain. If we're in a more festive mood, we'll go to one of our three favorite restaurants: Lyon de Bruxelles for moules frites, Golfe de Napoli for pizza, or La Crêperie des Cannettes. We always order a pichet of wine, never a bottle--it's very good and saves beaucoup d'argent. At home, though, we drink Bordeaux from the supermarket; it costs less than $10 a bottle and is better than any wine we've ever had anywhere. If only we had enough room in our suitcases to bring home a case or two! After dinner we improve our listening skills by watching French TV. Our favorites are the detective shows Une Femme d'Honneur and Alice Nevers: Le Juge est une Femme, both of which star fashionable, flirtatious, feisty French women solving grisly crimes. In fact, it's time for an episode of Alice Nevers now, so I'll have to go. À plus tard!

A Quiet Walk

Parisians have taken advantage of this three-day Pentecost weekend to head for other parts of the hexagon, and we lucky ones left behind have the city all to ourselves. Adding to the bliss of nearly traffic-free streets and easy-to-find seating at restaurants and cafés is the incredible weather: clear blue skies and temps in the low 80s. Today seemed like the ideal time to get out and enjoy the greenery of Paris before la grisaille descends again.

One thing I've wanted to do since seeing Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke in Before Sunset is to walk along the Promenade Plantée, a two-mile long narrow stretch of parkland built on a former elevated rail bed. The entrance, which we located with the help of Rick Steves' Paris guidebook, is just past the Opera Bastille, up a hidden stairway behind a tall red brick wall. The Promenade was even prettier and more peaceful than we'd expected; even though we were only a few stories above street level, the city seemed to melt away. If not for the apartment buildings visible above the park's trees and hedges, we could have mistaken it for a country lane in Giverny.

The entrance:


One of the neighborhood buildings:



A strategically-placed bench:



A surprise along the way:

Posh Digs

Our dear landlords, Claude and Lucile, recently returned from a two-week trip to Turkey and wanted to get to know us a little better, so they invited us for tea and macaroons yesterday afternoon. Before the tea was served, however, they gave us a visite guidée of their apartment, which is one floor below ours. Their apartment is surprisingly small by American standards--about 1,000 square feet--but sits in the most expensive real estate area in all of France. The land on which it stands was purchased from the Catholic church in 1796; the Church was forced to pay taxes after the revolution and therefore had to sell many of its land holdings. A single-story dwelling was built by twenty-six families--including Claude's great-great-great-great grandfather, a baker--who planned to pool their money to add more stories in the future. Apparently that was easier said than done; only six of the original families were able to proceed. By 1806, each remaining family was struggling to afford the taxes and all were ordered by the court to put it up for auction. In those days, the method of auctioning required bids to be made as two candles were burning, and no bids were allowed after the second candle went out. By sheer luck, Claude's ancestor was the last and highest bidder, and the building was given to him. More floors were added over the next twenty years (the bakery must have prospered), reaching a final height of six stories. The floor in Claude's apartment dates back to the 1820s and is similar in style to the flooring at Versailles. Our apartment isn't nearly as elegant, but at least we can boast that we've got the swankiest address in France!