Day 21 – Our Dernier Jour en Paris

It’s our last day, so we are gentle with ourselves…nothing to rush to, nothing left on the agenda. We stroll rather than walk in the brisk style we are now used to. This change in pace lets us know that we are tired. I suspect I will have no trouble sleeping on the airplane tomorrow.

We stroll our neighbourhood, because we realize we have spent no real time in St. Germain des Pres. We walk side streets letting our eyes and noses pull us where they will. Brunch is from a little pastisserie – a brie baguette sandwich for me and a deep bacon and cheese pizza for Dennis. We are not going to be able to keep up the rich diet when we get home, but things are so good here we cannot resist!

On our walk we find at least three more churches, one of which was built in 540 AD.

We also find the famous eateries: les Deux Magots, Café de Flore and Brasserie Lipp, all huddled near each other. They are famous for the writers and philosophers that used to enjoy them, like Jean Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir.

We try the famous macaroons that are little pastries and have nothing to do with the coconut concoctions we call macaroons. They are like a tiny hard shell meringue on the outside stuffed with creamy fillings and are melt in your mouth delicious! I have mint and caramel and Dennis tries coffee and chocolate. Yum.

We return to the apartment to arrange things for packing and change to go out for dinner. We have four Metro tickets left, just perfect to go somewhere downtown to eat.

Our meal is at Brasserie Marguerite…the only restaurant we have returned to because we like the food. Dennis has a smoked hake plate du jour and I have escargot and onion soup. We want dessert, but we fill ourselves, so no new pastries.

We stroll across the Seine, beside Notre Dame and head home by Metro. Now I finish this as Dennis packs. The cab comes tomorrow at 7:30 am!

Paris has been wonderful, we both agree. We will miss the beauty, style, art, and proximity to ancient architecture. We will miss the great wine at a cheap price, the great fresh food in every block, and the efficiency of the Metro.

We look forward to home for the quiet that no big city can offer, and access to nature – animals in the yard, real grasses and beaches that we can relax on. We look forward to friends who will welcome us home, and family that will visit soon. You have all been with us in spirit on this journey; now we will work on that lottery win thing so we can all do it together! Following are just a few general observations about this wonderful country. For now, a bientot!

General Observations and Je ne sais quoi

· We were welcomed and treated well by young and old. By and large people are friendly and provide good service.

· Parisians are very polite, greeting people and excusing themselves if they step in front of, or inadvertently touch you.

· Ageism is not apparent.

· Little dogs are everywhere, on leashes, in arms, or little bags, with men and women. They sit under tables in restaurants and travel with their people on trains and subways.

· Driving is aggressive and pedestrians need to be at least as aggressive at crosswalks. However, jaywalking at crosswalks – meaning when pedestrians don’t have the light – is prevalent.

· Scooters and bicycles go anywhere they like, including sidewalks, even though on most roads bicycles have their own path.

· Parking is insane and scooters use the sidewalk to park all the time, seemingly with impunity; cars do too when they can!

· Style is important to people and the interpretation of style means it’s not just the latest fashion, which is refreshing; this makes people watching very interesting and pleasant.

· Clothes are very well constructed and often much more intricate than in North America. There are details sewn into or affixed to almost all attire. Fabrics are good quality and fit is paramount.

· Shoes are a sign of personal expression for men and women and are so diverse in colour and design they are like jewellery. Very good quality shoes are available at good prices in comparison to at home.

· However, if you are touring, wear shoes that are comfortable for walking on a variety of surfaces from cobblestone to open grating. I brought stylish shoes that I thought were comfortable and still ended up in my sandals made by Crocs (no, not the garden variety!)

· Trains are a fabulous way to get around. They run frequently and are clean and comfortable. The three TGV trains we took had a snack bar and bar. The shorter run trains may not have this service. 2^nd class is plenty comfortable; we saw no reason to pay for 1^st.

(DD: We took the TGV from Paris to Nice and back and then from Paris to Giverny and back and from Paris to Versailles and back and were only checked for tickets on one leg of one trip! We understand that the fine for getting caught without a valid ticket is steep but . . . )

· The Metro in Paris is fast to get around on, and while not as lovely as the trains for comfort and amenities, it is cheap and efficient. The bus system is likely the same; we just never used it.

· Wine is wonderful, readily available in corner and grocery stores, and cheap! We’ve had fabulous bottles for less than 3 Euros that would easily be $20+ at home. You can also drink it virtually everywhere…sitting in a park, on a bridge, or at the edge of the street. Given this, we saw little drunkenness.

· Rose wines and champagnes are also everywhere and drunk as frequently as other varieties.

· Beer Blanche is likely a wheat beer and is served with lemon floating in it. Draft beer is “un pression” and can be bought in 25cl glasses, 50cl pints, or litres. Ask before you try any strange name on a beer menu or you might wind up with sweet pink concoction we got with lemonade and grenadine added – we did and while it was pretty it tasted vile!

· Monuments and most of the sights we think of in Paris are BIG…like often too big for my point and shoot camera’s wide angle. It’s not a coincidence that a lot of pictures of the Eiffel Tower have bits cut off…their owners were probably too tired to walk across the river to get the whole thing in the shot!

· Reserve ahead. Long lines at museums and sites can be avoided with reservations and they are easy to do online.

· Starbucks are prevalent in Paris but there aren’t as many as there are McDonalds and Subways. We saw no Starbucks in Nice, but you can get a café just about anywhere. (DD: Typically you get an espresso when you order a café, which is fine because it seems less acidic than our expressos. They usually serve a small glass of water with it. Café-au-lait is pretty much a latte and there is also Café-Americano which is a good expresso watered down with hot water. There is a way to get a coffee with milk that isn’t steamed, but I never figured that one out. Sipping a tiny cup of espresso on a hot day in a sidewalk bistro in Paris is a very pleasant way to spend a 1/2 hour (or longer)!)

· Food is fresh, flavourful, readily available and largely fabulous. They do use all of the animal and I am limited in how adventurous I want to be sometimes, but have had no trouble. The only disappointment has been lettuce, which is often tough and bitter in salads…and yes I know arugula when I see it ;-).

· Ham and cheese are staples and can be found on any menu.

· Cheeses are wonderful. A plain cheese sandwich will have something like emmental in it, or brie. Four cheese crepes are exquisite.

(DD: We saw a lot of cheese shops and despite the fact that I was looking forward to tasting some right from the shop the displays in the front windows and cases turned me off! I don’t eat mold. Period. Blue cheese has never been on my list of things that I want to put in my mouth and most shops had displays of cheeses with mold on all of them! Everything was fuzzy! They looked like something Poe may have stumbled into while searching for the Cask of the Amontillado.

We also ran across a couple of fruit/vegetable stands (which are usually set up like works of art deterring anyone from actually removing a piece of the perfectly arranged fresh produce) that had complete flats of moldy fruit. Both, that I saw, were what appeared to be moldy peaches. Perhaps there is a special recipe for moldy peaches that we aren’t aware of?)

· Many places have been retrofit from their 15^th, 16^th, 17^th century beginning, so wiring and plumbing are exposed in hallways and sometimes on the exterior of buildings. This has also led to things like toilets and showers that are on risers to allow for pumps underneath. Sometimes toilets sound like they are taking off when they are flushed! This also leads to some tiny showers. Dennis says his elbows are still bleeding from shampooing his hair in the first apartment we had that had a shower we had to turn sideways to enter! Good practice for RVing, I say.

· Retrofits also mean that gas stations in many places are just pumps on the sidewalk, and that kitchens have the washing machine where we would often place the dishwasher. Dryers are not in evidence anywhere…it’s a rack on the terrace or a line in the window.

· People use their whole face to talk. Eyebrows move, lips pout, eyes roll – it’s fabulous; especially when combined with hand gestures and what appear to be full body shrugs.

· I see many women alone and being treated well in cafes, on the subway, etc. – good news for solo women travelers.

· Cell phone providers must have very powerful signals. The number of people we have seen chatting on their phones while in the subway careening through tunnels is huge. Can all these signals running through the air run through us? Hmmmm.

· Traffic lights are different here. They are mostly at the corners of streets on posts, not overhanging the roads. And on the posts, there are the usual three lights at the top and then lower down, aimed directly at the driver, not down the street, are another set of smaller lights to ensure the driver sees them. Of course, whether they pay attention is a whole other thing!

· We refer to maps and compasses a lot. Seriously, we are both very savvy when it comes to finding our way in and out of places but this city turned us around like the old parlor trick and laughed when we were dizzy. There are many angled streets with multi-street intersections and nothing is on a grid. If you are directionally impaired…bring a GPS!

· “Velib” bike stands are everywhere. You have to get a pass somewhere, which I think is relatively easy, then you can ride the bikes for the first half hour for free. There are lots of places to drop them within the half hour distance. If you ride longer, I think it is 3,5 Euros per hour.

· In money, and numbers, where we would use a period, the French use a comma. Ones look a little like sevens with a long, sloping front, and sevens have a cross on the stem.

· Oh, and finally, they have mustard flavoured potato chips, which are awesome! And they have Roast Ox and Handcooked Ham and English Mustard, which I don’t even want to talk about!

Go to Paris! She rocks!

Day 20 – Filling in the Blanks

It’s our second last day. Dennis wakes early and takes one more shot at visiting the catacombs while I sleep in. Even though he is there at opening there is still a long line up and he decides to pass.

He calls on the walkie talkie from a pastisserie a few blocks away for my sandwich order – how sweet. Over a picnic brunch on our balcony we think aloud about what we want to do, now that time is short.

I want to go to the Rodin museum that Steve has recommended, and Dennis wants to get underground, so searches the guidebooks for information on the sewer tour.

We pick a new walking route and again cross a good portion of the left bank to get to the Rodin museum right beside Les Invalides. Dennis continues on to find his poo tour – as I call it.

(DD: The Sewer Tour turned out be a self-guided (with the help of an English brochure) 20-minute walk through a small section of Paris’ vast sewer system. Their sewer concept was started hundreds of years ago and has been refined to the point that it is now a world of tunnels that are a reflection of the streets above. The tunnels are large enough for special boats that are used to dredge out the debris and silt. They also act as conduits for the fresh water pipes, electricity, communication cables and whatever else they want so that the street level is mostly uncluttered with telephone poles or power lines.

Not surprisingly, the air in the tunnels is humid but surprisingly it smells like you are in the middle of a very large laundry! Not as artistic as Rodin’s Musee, but interesting nonetheless.)

I am blown away by the first sculpture at the Rodin museum, which is not even his…It is by an artist called Wim Delvoye http://www.wimdelvoye.be/gothicworks.php# and is a tower about thirty feet high made of delicate traces of laser cut steel. It is just beautiful and like nothing I have ever seen.

The Rodin museum is mostly in gardens, I love this, art can breathe in the outdoors and the characters he creates seem totally at home in the plantings, woods and fountain. His work is so evocative; emotion flows from his characters and I notice that one statue of a man who looks so in pain has the bronze of its hand polished to a shine by so many people called to comfort him.

The Thinker is here (finally! And not at the Louvre as the guidebook had said!) and many other notable works. In the two-storey mansion there are smaller works, maquettes, and works in clay. The building itself is lovely, and may have been one of the places where he lived after he became successful, the guide is unclear…I will have to look it up.

Visually full, I walk to meet Dennis near the banks of the Seine at Pont des Invalides and without knowing it – we just picked a green space on the map – we have chosen one of the collectives of the Paris homeless. Sad.

We pick a new route to walk to the Champs de Mars and the Eiffel Tower, running into markets along the way with some fruit and vegetables we have not seen before: ridged tomatoes and things that look like squashed peaches, very large green onions, small pineapples and mini bananas that aren’t plantains.

Sitting at the park near the Eiffel Tower we decide we will go to an area we have not seen – the beginning of the Canal St Martin at the Port de Plaisance de Paris Arsenal very near the Bastille. It is a complicated journey by Metro because one of the lines is being repaired and we need to take a bus, but all works well. The subway system here is great as long as we really pay attention to signs.

We debark at Gare Austerlitz and walk across the bridge to the beginning of the canal system…which turns out to be like a marina with boats docked on both sides. It is lovely! Along the side that we walk along, there are flower gardens, with sculptures, kids play areas and enticing places to sit and relax. We find a great sun-dappled patio and settle down to enjoy a beer. Many people are doing the same. I love this about Paris: the pubs can be in the outdoors without enclosure: so refined.

We wander across the street for a less than memorable supper – bad food happens everywhere - then walk around the monument to the start of the revolution and the storming of the Bastille.

There is one thing I realize I would like to do before we leave the city, so we hop on the Metro, hop off and grab a bottle of wine and walk to the Champ de Mars. We plant ourselves on the ground amid the hundreds of Parisians who are picnicking there. Some are in suits and business attire, clearly coming from work, others are set for the evening, or just ready to relax. Some bring blankets, others sit on plastic bags; those who have food seem to be pot lucking it, with bread and cheeses bought from a close store. Everyone has wine or beer, and many sit in large groups. Many two cheek kisses are exchanged as people enter or leave various groups.

Guys walk the Champs with buckets of chilling wine and beer for sale, probably illegal, but customer service!

It is a lovely night and the sunset on the clouds near the tower is beautiful. Slowly she is lit and radiates reflected light with warmth. What a wonderful experience. At precisely 10 pm she begins to sparkle and rock out as we take pictures and laugh.

Our second to last day in Paris ends!

Day 19 – Getting High in Paris

Today we leave the apartment after noon. We have been lying in and luxuriating in just being here, now without an agenda, just happiness.

We decide to have a relaxing day – we both have sore legs – and so we plan to visit Parc des Buttes-Chaumont in the north part of the city that we have become aware of from the Paris Daily Photo website (which I highly recommend). After being in Giverny yesterday we crave nature, so we pack books and ride the Metro through many lines and transfers to get to the park.

It is lovely and as soon as we enter the park steep cement stairs lovingly cast to look like logs confront us! We climb. Sore legs be damned, this is beautiful! The park has very old deciduous trees and some flowerbeds. There is lots of grass, which is unusual for Parisian parks – and more unusual, this grass you can sit on! We climb up a height that provides a vista of a further hill that has a small domed shelter on it. On we hike, past a waterfall that is obviously man made, but pleasant in that it is the one place where the noise of the city is fully masked by the sounds of nature. We walk over a bridge and up to the summit. From the domed structure there is a great view to the north to Sacre Coeur and a view below to a lake and more paths and walkways. Clearly this is a big park.

Leaving the height we cross a suspension bridge over a lake and watch joggers and grannies with their treasured grandchildren and many others just enjoy the green space. We stop at a brasserie in the park and enjoy coffee and beer overlooking the trees. We watch a heron-like bird fly into a nest high in a tree that has cones like our pines, but they are round. We pull out our books once, but there is too much going on to read. Life in the park, in Paris!

As we leave the park, walking by ancient Gingko Biloba trees and kids playing in artificial streams, we are thrilled that Parisians have this place to come to learn to love nature.

In the subway we see someone across the tracks wearing a Canada shirt …clearly of recent Olympic vintage. Has he enjoyed Vancouver or Whistler the way we are enjoying Paris?

On the way up we noticed ads in the subway for a tower in Montparnasse that promises a 360° view of the city. We look for the ad again and it promises the tower is open until 11:00 pm. Off we go.

On the way we swallow some Italian food. Dennis thinks he orders chicken pasta and the chicken comes cooked in little pieces with roasted red peppers, he is surprized, but delighted by the flavour. My Marguerita pizza is OK, but nothing to write home about, so erase this!

The entrance to Tower Montparnasse has no charm to it. There is just a teller and an elevator at the side of a tall office tower. When you get to the 56^th floor – which, by the way, takes only 38 seconds in the high-speed elevator they have – the views are breathtaking! There is everything we have seen and everything we haven’t laid out before us like a carpet. There is the inside viewing room on the 56^th floor and the option to hike up three floors to the 59^th.

Yup, we hike. And we are rewarded with views that cannot be matched, because before us is the Eifel tower and we could be eye-to-eye with the people on the top, but we are looking at the Eifel tower and they are looking at a boring office building! It is so sweet!

We luxuriate in the view and the lack of crowds for an hour…seeing everywhere we have been, almost, and so many places there are to explore. Paris has so many green spaces, obvious from this perspective. And so many nooks and crannies that you could spend years here and not feel bored, as long as you were prepared to go out and adventure.

We leave full of beautiful vistas and happy. We also have to consult both our map and compass to find our walk home! City of angled streets, we adore you!

Day 18 – Giverny

We are slowing our pace to one thing a day and we both have sore legs from so much walking. Whining in France, LOL! But seriously, Dennis’ knees are bothering him and we don’t want a repeat of the Baker’s cyst, so we are taking it a bit easy.

Today it will be Giverny, Claude Monet’s home for over 40 years. It is where he painted the water lilies and many of his floral works. We get the train at Gare St. Lazare, which he also painted and this is when I realize that much of what I am seeing has filled his eyes too and I feel so privileged.

The train trip is interesting going along the Seine – at least we assume it is the Seine – without a map it is hard to tell. There are little villages and a factory town with Peugot cars on rail cars for shipment. It is only a 45-minute ride to Vernon where there is a shuttle to Giverny.

Vernon looks very interesting, parts of it medieval, but we have no time today.

Giverny is spread out along the river. Just a tiny little town that you could walk in fifteen minutes and it is charming. Now most of the houses are Art Galleries, B&Bs, or restaurants, but you can see how it would have been in the 1800’s.

It is relatively quiet here and the crowds are small. Coming in the afternoon we may have avoided the bus trippers, whatever it is pleasant. When we gain entrance to the house, it is enchanting. Built in the style of the time, rooms flow into each other, there are no real hallways: Four rooms and his studio on the bottom floor and four rooms upstairs. I love the bright yellow of the large dining room with a huge table to seat 14 – but then they were a family of 10 who loved to entertain. Dennis notes that all the windows along the dining room are French doors to the deck that runs the length of the house, so the suppers could just spill in and out to the garden. How lovely.

The kitchen was huge also, all blue and white tile with a large fireplace and a stove with many chambers like a built-in-place Aga.

I am charmed by the lifestyle that the rooms’ represent…almost nothing is formal, and everything gives way to the garden. Monet’s bedroom with sitting area on the second floor has huge windows that open fully letting in the most glorious perfumes from the thousands of flowers.

I am surprised by the art on the walls: Everywhere but his studio and bedroom are covered in Japanese prints and we are told that these were on his walls when he lived here. Clearly he was fascinated by this genre that is so far from his own. So interesting. His bedroom is a mini-museum of the works of fellow impressionists, and his studio held the paintings he had completed and not sent to the dealer.

The gardens are Monet’s creations. I had no idea he was an avid gardener but there are two-and-a-half acres planted in beds of every conceivable flower and vine along with his water gardens. It is brilliant with colour and smells amazing. At the foot of the garden we need to enter a subterranean passage to get to the other side of the road where his water garden stands. When Monet bought this property he was quite poor and having both a road and at one point a railroad run through part of it probably made it more affordable.

I can only describe the water gardens as heaven. Since I was a teenager and first fell in love with his painting at the art gallery in Ottawa, I have loved these very gardens from a distance. Now to be in them, and standing where I know he has stood, seeing what I know he has seen, it is the gift of a lifetime and I am so grateful.

His boats, or replicas of them are on the shore, but without the canvas top that is evident in some of his paintings.

The willows droop to meet the water lilies, which are every colour. There are beds of flowers around the edges of the ponds and wisteria vines cover a roof-like trellis over one of the arched bridges.

When it is time to leave, I am full to the brim. One happy puppy and Dennis has loved it too! It is also nice to have been out of the city. We are both people who love quiet and nature; today has soothed our souls amid this great adventure.

Day 17 – La Tour de France -- Grande Finale

On the way to the Metro to get a train downtown we run into a local market on the boulevard. Wow, how impressive! It goes on for blocks and there is everything. Fishmongers and butchers with glass cases and ice…a complete store, but under an awning instead of a roof. How very cool. There are cheese stalls and cider and jam and the usual clothes and jewellery – I buy a Labradorite bracelet that catches my eye with its blue opalescent twinkle. There are hats from Panama and fruit and vegetables from all parts of France and beyond. We settle on some made-on-the-spot cheese crepes for breakfast and enjoy them watching Parisians shop for their groceries.

Grabbing the subway we make it to the Concorde stop and we become aware of how much this day will be like Bastille Day with the crowds on the Champs Elysees and the streets surrounding the Louvre. Already police are directing people away from some areas.

We wander some streets thinking we might try to get into the Tuileries area, but it becomes clear that we cannot cross the road anywhere and the Tour cyclists aren’t due here for hours. The atmosphere is infectious. People guard their places at the barricade at the side of the road as if it were their home. We settle for awhile behind four British guys that are in their forties and have long hair and face piercings and tattoos – perhaps a rock band? If not it’s just kind of sad! The pre-race buses and semi-trailer trucks that carry the team equipment and “stuff” for the three weeks of the Tour start to show up and park by the side of the road which bums out people who have been standing by those view spots to no end. In another half hour or so, some of the actual support vehicles show up and the semis pull out behind them to get their parking spot on the Place de la Concorde – handy to have the biggest assembly point in France right there in the middle of the final route to use as a parking area!

We wander up the street a bit, naively thinking we might make it down to the Champs Elysees to watch the actual racers. In a couple of blocks it becomes apparent that the congestion will be too great and we spot a small space near a low window that has a big old iron grill on it. Perfect…a place to sit and a place to jump up on to see the cyclists over everyone’s head, since it is apparent we will not be at the front anywhere. There are still several hours until race time, a fact that has us both chagrinned, we are not good at waiting.

Strange floats, and a parade of sponsor support vehicles that must accompany the Tour, begin to appear with music blasting and girls dancing on them. The promo vehicles were like nothing we could ever afford when I worked in the field, each individually designed with giant product sculptures like sunglasses or cookies or jerseys built onto them: very cool. We gather this is what they call the “Caravan” that accompanies the Tour. We are glad of the visual diversion as we cling to our spots on the wall like limpets as a sea of people surges back and forth in front of us. We wait and when the caravan seemed to be exhausted we think this is a good thing because they will have to clear the road before the cyclists. We wait some more, and even though the “people watching” is very good, our patience is wearing thin and our legs are tiring.

Then there is great excitement: the police motorcycles that front the pack leaders are coming! There is a helicopter overhead filming, the crowd is so excited it just about combusts. Up the road a couple of blocks we begin to hear cheers and clapping. I jump to my ledge on the window; Dennis holds the video camera by the monopod in a Hail Mary position. And…they are here, going so fast, they are like a blur, about eight or nine of the leaders, a relatively small break, then dozens of bikes flying like a school of fish. So exciting! We watch the following support vehicles and hear the crowd around the Place de la Concorde leading to the Champs Elysees cheer as we had.

What seems like only a few minutes goes by and the scene is repeated. The lead group has grown smaller and their separation from the pack even bigger. On the third lap a rider has to change his wheel and it happens right in front of us…they have it down to a science and it takes only seconds, but we are sorry for the rider, because they may have been crucial seconds this close to the end.

We are not near the finish line, and decide to relinquish our primo spots to some young girls who have been patiently waiting for a place to just see the action. We begin heading toward the Champs, hoping to see more of the race from a different angle. By the time we get around the road closures the police have imposed, we are in time to see the last lap down the Champs Elysees and hear Spain’s Contador declared the winner…which was no surprize to anyone. What is great is that there are loud speakers all along the miles of the Champs and the roads around the Louvre so everyone gets to hear the commentary or music, or whatever is happening, and somehow they are set so there is no annoying echoing or gaps in coverage. We cannot understand the commentary for the presentations that are going on, but trophy presentations are about the same in any sport, so we infer the content as we walk the length of the Champs Elysees and take pictures of the Arc de Triomphe from the middle of the closed street.

We hope we have gotten some good video and pictures for Phil who we know will have watched it on TV.

Dinner is at a brasserie across from city hall, where I enjoy the best onion soup so far and Dennis has a great pizza! We walk in the old city then ride home to sip some wine and plot tomorrow as our trip to France begins to wind down.

(Just a note: When we returned to the apartment and checked the final standings we were thrilled to see that Victorian Ryder Hesjedal was ranked seventh overall in the Tour de France – quite an achievement for a twenty-year old with many years left to cycle!)

Day 16 – Marche de Puces, Walking Montmartre again…yum.

It is Saturday and one of the big market days. We take the Metro to the end of the line at Clignancourt and walk into suburbs of the market where people are selling everything from jeans to jewellery from their hands, or mats on the ground. It feels very hang-on-to-your-wallet seedy and is a little off putting. Soon the mats and hands give way to stalls and then buildings filled with stalls that are a potpourri of Paris. There is everything. Want an eight-foot tall chandelier a la Versailles – it’s here. Want a stuffed zebra, ditto. Top hat, WW1 flying helmet, table made from an airplane nose, giant portrait of one of the Louies – it’s all here!

Some things are spectacular. I see two porcelain vessels that I would have bought in a New York minute if the lottery people had called. The glaze on them is so spectacular I would dream about it that night. It was layers of what looked like raku glaze in that it had a metallic finish, but in colours like the inside of a clam shell and unlike most raku that is abstract because it is very difficult to control the glaze, this has subtle geometric patterns that are very controlled. Love it! The proprietor let me take pictures, but they don’t do them justice.

We wander the market for hours. It is a visual feast. After sitting for a drink in one of the cafes, we decide to return to Montmartre because it is close and we never did get inside Sacre Coeur.

We leave the metro and walk to Sacre Coeur at the top of the butte, commenting on how fit we feel after more than two weeks of walking. This hill would have left me puffing and dizzy on day one, now it is a relative breeze.

Sacre Coeur in her whiteness is so lovely. Did I mention that the basilica is made of some kind of white stone that sort of repaints itself when it rains? So it glows white in all the exposed areas and shows it age in sheltered spots.

Although there is a huge crowd, it is easy to enter and tour the interior. The interior of the dome is breathtaking with a huge scene of the resurrected Christ surrounded by adoring disciples at night, done in mosaic tiles that are primarily gold and midnight blue. The side chapels are filled with equally beautiful sculptures and carvings. So many have offered prayers and lit candles that the whole interior twinkles in candlelight. I wish I could take pictures, but they have asked us not to and I respect the request.

A banner tells us that this is the 125^th year that prayers have been said night and day without ceasing.

Outside we wander an area near the basilica where we hadn’t been and run into a small church in the shadow of Sacre Coeur that is also open. It is small and intimate by comparison. And dedicated to Our Lady of Montmartre patron saint of Artists. I like this!

Outside it is a circus in a very touristy area called Place du Tertre where it seems every portrait, sketch artist in Paris is trying to sell their wares. And, we see our first mime! Not that we really wanted to see mimes, they kind of bug us both, but we expected them here.

We find a small gallery dedicated to Salvador Dali complete with brass melting clocks, kind of cool. Then we go in search of a path away from the crowds and travel new streets down the hill.

Soon we are in familiar territory and the lively “Saturday nightness” of the crowd is engaging. We pick a brasserie across from the Moulin Rouge and have a large dinner watching the crowd coming to the Moulin’s show, the security guards, the stumbling gawking tourists, the locals, the posers, and the lovers stroll by.

We recognize that we have slowed down to a simple pace, no longer trying to “bag” all the sites, but content to simply savour each direction we are pulled. This, we decide, is the difference between two and three-week vacations at our age and we are glad we opted for three!

Day 15 – No Catacombs, the Marais and in search of a Deli

We decided yesterday that we would try for the catacombs again so this morning we walk to them. We stop and buy fresh sandwiches at a patisserie and picnic at a bus bench for brunch. My cheese sandwich is made of brie – full fat, I assume – and is just delicious. Dennis enjoys his ham pita. When we arrive at the catacombs the line is even longer than before. I wonder, can we reserve?

The metro takes us to the big department stores downtown near the Opera. They are huge, sometimes many buildings and by law they can only have sales twice a year. The summer sales are on now and prices are less exorbitant than usual for some things and still wildly crazy for any name that is recognizable. I spend half an hour and can’t take the crowds. I have bought nothing, but discovered a huge stained glass dome and amazing balconies that rise seven floors in one area of Galleries Lafayette! These Grandes Magasins (Galleries LaFayette, Printemps, The Bon Marche) have been here for more than 100 years and are quite amazing. One whole floor of this huge store is dedicated to women’s shoes. There is a six-storey store across the street that is all things for men.

We decide to walk around the Marais, an area we have spent little time in, so grab the Metro. One thing I don’t think I have mentioned is that there is often live music in the Metro stations, or in the cars themselves by musicians busking. In one station, there is usually a ten-piece mini orchestra that is professional quality, selling their CDs. We sometimes see people with accordions playing lilting French melodies, which in my opinion is a much nicer use of the instrument than polkas, but that’s just me! (Mon dieu! The woman I love is prejudiced!!! –DD)

As we walk we run into Place des Voges which it one of the oldest palaces in Paris. It is built around an open square that is now a park, and it is the first execution of what are now thought of as town houses. It’s 400 years old, Louis XIII was married here and Victor Hugo lived here for a period. It is now expensive condos, museums and art galleries.

Dennis has read that the Marais is an area where many Jewish people have settled over the years and figures that this means he can find a good deli, so we go in search of corned beef sandwiches in the town of Croque Monsieurs (French grilled-cheese sandwiches that are ubiquitous).

It takes us about an hour and a half walking up and down streets in the Marais – with me occasionally popping into stores – until sure enough we hit the right street and have out-of-this-world sandwiches. It may be kosher, but it’s still Paris and the meat is perfect, the onion buns soft and fresh and the condiments interesting.

With no energy for exploring left and no agenda, we decide to head home early and just veg in our apartment. On the way to the Metro we pass a huge concert at City Hall that is part of the summer’s free entertainment. The band is good, sort of French country rock with a little African percussion thrown in. We have no idea what they were called, but it’s a fun way to end the evening downtown.

Day 14 – A day of Picnics: La Defense and The Eifel Tower

There is lots of noise in this part of Paris to wake us early but nowhere we want to be in a rush. We buy brunch from a take out place called Bagels and Brownies, then finding nowhere to sit near the shop we hop the Metro to La Defense at the end of a subway line in a business heart of the new Paris.

In sympathy, everything here is big, including the Grande Arch that can be seen from downtown when looking through the Arc de Triomphe. I can’t even describe the scale of this building that is two office towers with a top that joins them creating an open square. All around the area are ultra modern buildings and sculptures that are the antithesis of the ancient core of Paris. In the centre is a huge expanse for people to gather. People in suits and business attire are picnicking just as we are, but they had wine!

We walk from one end of the plaza to the other, a distance that equals a Metro stop… then, sated by food and with our visual palette cleansed, we headed for the Catacombs. Nothing like bones after abstract art! Alas, they let the last people in at 4:00, it was 3:15 and the line was one hour long! Thus a break at a Thai Café for German draught beers seems like a good idea. I have never been in a place as diverse as Paris. We have heard what seems like every language, and seen people in every style of ethnic garb. It is a rich mix of cultures and we have not seen, or sensed, friction.

Not knowing what to do, we return to the apartment with the nighttime allocation of wine, placing it to cool in the fridge. I blog a bit – so glad that I am starting to put up pictures on my Facebook page – but I still have to learn how to place the descriptions so that they show up in the transition from iPhoto to Facebook. I’m sure it is easy, but I just don’t want to spend time here figuring it out!

With the pictures I have put up, I am receiving regular comments from Sara, and occasional words from others, and it is this cyber touch from a different time, and a loving perspective, that keeps me blogging. Thanks to all who comment!

Dennis thinks he can navigate us on foot from our apartment to the Eifel tower, so we are off and it is a good walk down non-tourist streets as people return home from their jobs. We go right in front of the impressive, golden-domed church that is part of the sprawling site of Les Invalides that was built by Louis XIV as a hospital and home for returning war veterans. It is still a retirement home and surgical centre for veterans. Napoleon’s body was repatriated here. Other war heroes are also entombed in the church crypts. All these burial bits we’ve seen in the past 24 hours makes us realize we will never be in one of these places because we both intend to be in the wind – cremated and sprinkled. What would the French have done if this had been the case years ago?

Anyway, our walk continues our checking of café menus pretty soon makes us realize that nothing is grabbing us so we hit a Monoprix and buy another picnic – salad for me and sandwich for D along with coke and ¼ bottle of wine – just because we can drink it in the park!

We arrive at the Champs des Mars and plant ourselves on the grass – well, the French version of grass which is 50 per cent dirt and not soft at all – to picnic in the presence of the Eifel Tower. What is so cool about this – aside from the obvious – is that so many locals are doing this too. It is clear, they have come from work and stopped at a shop for food or brought a homemade meal and are just enjoying the place. I love this about Paris!

There are people walking around with pails, selling chilled bottles of wine or soft drinks, and others selling Eifel Tower souvenirs. These sellers, every once in awhile, just fade into the edges of the huge park, with their wares hidden by their bodies. We soon realize that they have a signal they use when the police enter the park. Clearly their wares are not “official” and the knock-off police can be trouble, so there is this dance that happens every 15 minutes or so. In the end, no one needs to break a sweat as long as everyone dances his or her part!

The lines are too long to consider the tower tonight, so we leave, happy to have picnicked in her presence and to have another amazing memory of Paris.

Day 13 – As Luck Would Have It – the Jardin du Luxembourg; Sorbonne; Pantheon; Paris Plage; et Le Musee du Louvre

Today we start late – around noon – with no agenda and little direction. Have I mentioned I find the number 13 lucky? Well, today the first café we find to have breakfast happens to be right across the street from the Jardin du Luxembourg. How cool. We eat scrumptious salad, finally with tender salad greens, and fluffy quiche Lorraine that melts in our mouths. The frozen kind just isn’t going to cut it when we get home!

The Jardin is lovely; again with sacred grass you are not supposed to walk on, but just admire. The gate we enter by is near an apple orchard where the apple trees are all espaliered on wrought iron fences, and each apple that has appeared has been wrapped in a white bag. One or two have been left on the ground as offerings to the insects, but I wonder what becomes of the others? Special cider? Research? A special fruit stall that only those in the know can shop?

Further along the path is a huge apiary, another mystery, what happens to the honey from this source? Then there are all sorts of areas devoted to the pleasures of children, including climbing structures, spinners and a gravity-based ride that we have never seen before where children stand or sit on a circular padded disc that hangs from a track, and follows a circuitous course until it brings them to where they can step off easily to the ground. Fun. Lovely. But sadly the carousel and the puppet show are not open right now.

For the adults there are bocce areas, tennis, volleyball, basketball and other courts. All of these are in the open, surrounded by lovely tree-filled places to picnic. Further along we run into an organ grinder playing on a stage where I imagine band concerts happen often.

Soon we are in front of another grand building, the Palais du Luxembourg and more precisely the Medici fountain, which is glorious in that it is meant for people to relax and enjoy themselves. Little wooden boats sail the pond holding the fountain with their young captains chasing them from side to side with sticks to adjust their sails. Lovely. All of this is surrounded by gardens with the most beautiful flower plantings and sculptures suitable for the Louvre.

We are thrilled to have discovered this place, just meters from our apartment, and now consult the map to pick the right streets to the Latin Quarter and the Sorbonne. Here in St. Germain des Pres the streets seem to intersect even more like footpaths, five or six to an intersection and they are mostly narrow, with a single file sidewalk, if any: Old parts of the city, clearly.

We proceed, expecting to enter the Sorbonne area, and we do, and at the same time run into the Pantheon that we wanted to see, but didn’t know was in this area. What a treat. There are no lines and we enter the amazing building that is a tribute to all heroes of France, and most especially those who have given their lives in her honour. It is huge and awesome and everything a sacred, patriotic place should be. There is a statue in one alcove to the artists who have been lost over time…I like that! In the middle of the great hall is Foucault’s pendulum that he used to prove that the earth rotates around the sun. Don’t ask me to explain it, but it is marvelous to see hanging from a 230 feet high dome and tracing the time with its arc.

We leave the Pantheon and walk the streets with the colleges of the Sorbonne around us. Soon we are near the Seine and the Ile de la Cite and decide to cross behind Notre Dame to the right bank…and what do we run smack into but Paris Plage. This is just too cool. The city brings in sand and palm trees and tables with beach umbrellas and beach chaises and water misters and foosball tables and a place to dance and cafes and places them all along a closed road on the banks of the Seine. It is wonderful and everyone there is having a great time, especially the children. It is great to see the tres chic enjoying a taste of what it would be like if they were at the ocean. Sadly, there is nowhere to swim, but gladly that doesn’t seem to matter.

As we consider our options, it occurs to us that it is Wednesday and the Musee du Louvre is open on Wednesday nights. Well, not last Wednesday, but most Wednesdays so we go up to see, since we are right there. It is open! Yay! Time to eat before we go, and we decide that McDonalds in the Carousel du Louvre food court will get our business. So cool, they have large shared tables to eat at and also leather low slung lounge chairs that overlook what used to be the moat of the Louvre. Cool! I have a Happy meal and get cool 3D sunglasses and a flying dragon to give to Malcolm!

We find a ticket machine off the food court that spits out tickets in no time and we beat the crowd. We decide to do the Denon wing tonight because, well, it is just so massive and we both want to see Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa – we know, so touristy, but really you have to! So we see these uber famous ladies and then marvel at the sculptures and paintings and architecture that populates the neighbourhood they inhabit. There are too many works and not enough superlatives to describe this wonder! After a few hours we are bagged: over stimulated and happy. Full of art and McDonalds and Paris and the great day we have lucked into.

We grab the Metro to our new address and ride the tiny elevator pressed together ;-).

Day 12 – Nous Retournons a Paris

We wake early and watch more of the Tour de France, before we amble down the block for petit dejeuner. We treat ourselves to a taxi to the train station because the bags feel very heavy in this +33°C heat and although it is only three blocks, it is uphill. Perhaps being 60 allows us to make some allowances!

The train trip is direct and we once again enjoy the vistas of the oceanfront and all the yachts at play to start, the rocky red Pyrenees with their own versions of hoodoos – I wonder what they call them here – and then the picturesque and pastoral personality of this foodie nation with a golden hay crop taken off, green grocer crops growing, sunflowers doing their salutations, and Charolais cattle fattening.

We arrive at Gare du Lyon and the electricity is back on in Le Tren Bleu restaurant. Since we have bags in tow we forego the splendour and find a phone. Now, what do we actually dial of this multi-digit number to get through? Books have said you must dial 01 first in Paris, ultimately we give up trying and Dennis flags a very nice information person and it turns out you dial 0 then 10 digits…bon, mais…it is busy. These are the people we were to call one hour before we wanted into the apartment.

After a few more tries, we decide to head to the apartment anyway. We ask the cab driver to call for us and he very nicely has the lengthy conversation in French that we couldn’t have: we are here, where are they with the key?

He drops us and continues with the assurance that they told him they would be here in 15 to 20 minutes.

About 40 minutes later a lovely young man named Simon shows up apologetically and we are let into the building, then the inner building, as is the way here, and then there in the elevator. French elevators are small, but this one would make a phone booth look luxurious. One by one we ascend with the suitcases.

The apartment turns out to be very nice, with two large outdoor areas, off the living area. You could actually have six people to dinner on each of them, if the table was tiny. The kitchen, in its own room is no larger than the deck, but the separate bedroom and bathroom is largish and lux. Very nice. As we drink wine on our terrace, we watch the sun set and the girl in the apartment across the street brush her teeth and apply body cream in her bathroom. She doesn’t close the drapes and we don’t go in!

Days 10 & 11 – A Nice Break

We wake late…no alarm today. Then watch some of the Tour de France on TV with British commentary. Didn’t find out where Victorian Ryder Hesjedal placed in this stage, we’ll have to Google it, but know it wasn’t in the top 10 today. That’s OK. There are still many stages to go.

It is hot here: scalp-always-wet-from-the-sweat hot, +34°C hot. Even in the heat we walk and walk through the streets lined with beautiful five or six story apartments and offices. We notice that there are many doctors in the area and Dennis observes that if we had an MD, where would we like to practice? True.

We find a street similar to 5^th Avenue in Playa del Carmen; back from the ocean and lined with restaurants, shops and bars. Following this led to an older area with all pedestrian passages and what appeared more Italianate architecture. We miss the flower market and arrive to see the most lovely garbage – flowers that were just not good enough to sell. They are now cleaning and flushing the area and resetting it as restaurants under the tents where the flowers used to be. We walk a few blocks and arrive at Rossetti Square where a large church holds down one side and the remainder is filled with tables and people enjoying Sunday afternoon with their families and friends in front of the restaurants, stores and ice cream vendors. The bell tower of the church is much newer than the rest and is dedicated to the parishioners killed in the First World War.

Icy colas are delicious as we sit and enjoy the day. Then, since we seem to be testing our hearts on this journey, we climb several flights of stairs to a remarkable view of Nice and the surrounding mountains on a mountain where there once stood a castle (Le Chateau). There is now a lovely waterfall and park along with some places for cool drinks and a few cheesy souvenir stalls at the very top. It has been worth the climb, but I am done…melting. We ride a tiny train down to the shore and watch pole-vaulters on the broad sidewalk doing a promo for a big track and field meet this weekend. Nice seems like a happening place for the younger set.

We are impressed that there is a “Handi Plage:” a beach access for the disabled that has a ramp to the rocky beach, and concrete pads to allow wheelchairs access to the middle of beach and then mats to get close to the water. There are separate warm showers and places for changing with a caregiver. It’s nice to see this inclusivity. I put my toes in the Mediterranean and feel the rocks thrown on my feet by the ocean.

Nice is the fifth largest city in France and there will be many things we cannot explore; that’s OK because this was meant to be a side trip. We have a memorable meal in a tiny brasserie – Dennis has veal scaloppini and I have an artichoke salad that is presented like a work of art. Today has been full and we will have the chance to fill tomorrow.

At the hotel we try to up load yesterday’s blog…Oh la la – quel experience! There is no Wifi, so we use the computer in the lobby. The computer is a PC, but when we put our flash drive into it the whole system reboots. Then I can open the blog and the document on the flash drive, but I cannot copy and paste. We call the receptionist over and she tries, but it will not function and she shrugs. Ne march pas! So

we watch Pirates of the Caribbean in our room on the 13” TV with a broken remote and crash.

The next day is really more of the same walking, eating, melting and sitting in sidewalk cafes for cold beer – with shopping thrown in. Some of it is in air-conditioned stores so Dennis doesn’t even mind ;-). Sara, your special gift comes from here, Phil, we finally found a Tour T-shirt in your size, and I find a piece of jewellery at Galleries LaFayette that is haunting me, so that may be my big souvenir when we get back to Paris (they have the same store there).

(DD:PS: Although our room here at the hotel is OK we miss the amenities of the apartment that we had in Paris. Free internet, groceries nearby, a fridge that works well, a bigger TV, a VIEW!, a neighbourhood with real locals (we seem to be in a “business” area here) and the feeling that we sort of live here rather than being definitive “visitors”. We have to accept that we are Parisians on vacances!)

Day 9 – A Vacation from Our Vacation

We are off to Nice today on the TGV. Dennis wanted to experience the high-speed train and I wanted to see the countryside so we planned this little three-night getaway. For anyone traveling out from the Gare de Lyon, we found a great website that told us everything so we arrive without the pressure of decoding different customs. I even know that there is a 20-store shopping centre below the departures level, which lets me nip down to L’Occitaine and top up on creams and lotions I want. It was an interesting purchase since all the power in the mall was out, so I shopped in twilight and had to pay with cash.

The power outage also meant that Le Tren Bleu, the famous restaurant with its belle époque décor that we hoped to see, was closed. Oh well, we wait without coffee or shopping! But the characters are everywhere and pretty soon we notice the three military guys with their semi automatic weapons scanning the crowd. And we don’t have to wait long until a yelling-out-loud-at-no-one-in particular Rasta man outraged at something and with a pair of scissors held weapon-like in his hands drew their attention. He yelled and they followed him out to the parking lot, Dennis of course followed to see the military guys report to the local gendarmes that they had lost the guy: too funny.

Boarding the train was seamless and the ride was smooth and visually lovely with small farms, sunflower fields, distant hills and small towns holding our interest after the suburbs. Lyon was an easy change and the trip on the regional train, through Provence, in view of the Pyrenees, and along the Mediterranean through Marseilles, Cannes, Antibes and other small towns to Nice was filled with exquisite views of the Mediterranean!

Arriving in Nice our hotel is walking distance from the station and very nice. Reasonable by Nice standards, it is about a 10-minute walk to the sea. There is a tiny TV, but Internet only on an ancient IBM in the lobby.

It is hot and humid and Mexico-like. We walk the broad sidewalk separating the beach from the roadway, hotels and casinos that parallel the ocean. We have a forgettable meal in an unforgettable place. Someone drives by on a scooter, honking and honking the little beep-beep horn and Dennis says, “There goes Kevin!” It’s an inside joke that keeps us laughing for a long time.

Day 8 – Versailles – How do you say, “Over the Top?”

Today we take the RER (regional train) for the first time. It’s about a 25-minute trip out of the city to Versailles, but really you are in the suburbs of Paris most of the time. The train stops in the centre of the ancient town of Versailles and you walk a block, turn the corner, and there is the Chateau taking up the whole horizon.

I’ve mentioned HUGE before, and this place needs a new word for HUGER than HUGE, not to mention “ornater” than ornate. It is built onto in various sections that favour different architectural styles then tied together with lots of gold on the fence tops, and eaves! It is interesting that in some places the walls are mostly marble wainscoting with silk tapestries stretched over the walls. The drapes match the tapestries, but no room matches each other. There are all the colours on the wheel, I am sure. And in the Grand Palace of Louis XIV basically anything that doesn’t move is painted, gilded, mirrored, covered with silk, or carved, or any combination of these.

The gardens are awesome, filled with and lakes and canals with boats and fountains and sculptures and topiaries and ducks and swans and fish and forests…and more of it all again. Until we get to the Petit Trianon that some books say Marie Antoinette preferred. It is actually a reasonable size and very pretty with carved walls and doors. It is all very old and painted white…perhaps the beginning of the shabby chic look. It has a secret passage to sneak in and out of the house and what appears to be a number of indoor wells off the kitchen. It too has lovely gardens of a smaller scale that separate it from the Grand Trianon: a one level, pink marble party place or guesthouse we guess. We would know more if we rented an audio guide, but we are finding that there is so much to see that we would be in complete overwhelm if we had any more sensory stimulation. We do observe that audio guide people behave differently, schooling like fish in different places and not relating to the people they came with, but to the “guide” in their ears.

We are walking, on average about six miles a day, according to Dennis’ pedometer. Versailles stretches that to about 10…and miles not kilometres. We are sore and understand the people who rented bicycles or golf carts to see the grounds, but we persist.

Outside the gates, there is a swarm of Segways with the option to just try them out for 10 minutes. Dennis hops on one and has a go. He gets the hang of it really quickly and is whizzing around the area with a big grin on his face. He stays on for less than 10 minutes though and when I ask why, he says, “My legs are too sore!”

We think that a beer at an outdoor café would be in order and ask to have a Tango and a Monaco from their menu, thinking they are local brews. We really should ask. The beer arrives and they are both PINK! Seriously, a bright neon pink because they have had lemonade and grenadine added to them. Put this in the “not recommended” list. They are truly awful; beer should not be sweet.

As we head home with my souvenir “Dancing Eifel Tower in a Can” that was just too happy making to pass up, we realize that opulence is exhausting on so many levels, and gardens are just great.

Problems Blogging in Paradise

I am having problems trying to move the blog from our computer to the hotel computer. Check in a few days when we are back in Paris...maybe pics too!

Day 7 – Water lilies, Walking, Stained Glass & our lock on the Pont Des Arts

(Hey out there, if you are reading this, please make comments…I love to write, AND I love to know what people think...bon ou mal…come on whatdaya think!)

Waking up we decide this will be our L’Orangerie day. We bought the tickets in conjunction with the D’Orsay and today is the last day they are good…but honestly, this is one of the crowning glories of Paris that I have wanted to see forever. The L’Orangerie is a building near the Place de la Concorde and within the Tuileries that is the site that Monet himself agreed should hold his absolutely massive water lily paintings. There is other art here as well, some fabulous Renoirs, early Picassos when he was still very representational, and Utrillo among others, but the top floor is two extra large, egg-shaped rooms with low ceilings and filtered natural light that each hold four canvases. To be with this work was a dream. To be able to see and study this master’s work was a privilege. And to be allowed to photograph it seemed a gift from Monet himself who was very egalitarian. I will post photos, I promise!

Dennis left the museum before me and found Rodin’s The Kiss, just outside the front doors and off to the left where we hadn’t seen it on our way in! Amazing statue. I remember seeing an interview in Time magazine with a wizened old man, perhaps 90, who had modeled for Rodin and this statue when he was in his 20’s. So cool to have your very best body immortalized! I think that’s what Brad Pitt said about one of his movies ;-)

So now, what to do? We decide to walk from Place de la Concorde in a direction we have never gone. We walked along the banks of the Seine for miles – buying one little painting on copper from an outdoor kiosk – until we reached the Trocadero across the Seine from the Eiffel Tower. What a HUGE building, but we are learning everything here seems to be on growth hormones. Honestly, many of these sites/sights will not fit in my most wide-angle camera setting!

We stopped to have a bite before climbing up to the Trocadero itself. I had the most amazing cheese crepe from a little vendor and Dennis had a “hotdog” that had some edible sleeve on the outside that was red! It was wearing a baguette condom into which hot mustard had been squeezed. When he got to the bottom of the sausage, I got to enjoy just the bread and hot mustard part. Yum!

Up on the Trocadero after taking more portraits of her majesty The Tower, we watch some very talented dancers of the crump, hip hop variety then decide to go back to the Ile de la Cite for supper.

As we arrive at the subway stop, I remember that there is another church here that I wanted to see – Ste. Chapelle. It is the church that was built to house relics of Christ’s passion – the crown of thorns, a piece of the cross, the Image of Edessa – that France purchased as they surfaced in the 1200’s – and others they acquired.

This place is like no other. We were there at an overcast time with little sun, but to be inside this church with the sun high must be like being inside a prism, since its walls are 90% of stained glass. It is breathtaking.

The lower chapel, literally “downstairs” is also heavily glassed and painted in the cover-everything-with-pattern-to-show-it-that-we-love-it style. They really loved it and it is oddly lovely to my taste.

Dennis is blown away by this church that he didn’t know was here. I had the fun of doing all the research and now he has the fun of being surprized occasionally. This is one of those times. And it makes him hungry.

We walk to the narrow streets of restaurants and Dennis enjoys a Greek pita with meat from a spit shaved into it. We decide to go to The Great Canadian Pub for a beer – thanks Justin for pointing it out in your pictures – funny part is, the only Canadian beer they have is Moosehead!

To wrap the day we walk to the Pont des Arts. I subscribe to Paris Daily Photo and a month or so ago Eric ran a photo of couple in love putting locks on the Pont des Arts, so we brought one from Victoria which I had inscribed with “Sharon and Dennis, Victoria, Canada – 60 years of life, 30 years of love.” After we hung it – two lampposts and 30 links in from the right bank on the Ile de la Cite side – we kissed deeply. Then we tried to take a photo of us and our lock and a lovely French person offered to take a picture of us both. We laughed and posed and told her – 30 years! She pointed at the man with her and said happily, “Three months.” We said it, “It starts with three months.”