Paris - Day 6

  Paris, Île-de-France, France
Tuesday, September 23, 2008

This was my last full day in Paris. I wanted to go for one last (albeit short) morning run.  It was freezing when I stepped outside.  It was a good thing that I had made a prudent purchase at Monoprix the day before - black knit gloves.  It wasn't long before I was numb to the cold.  My route of choice this morning was the quai on the right bank side of the Seine.  I crossed the river at Pont de la Concorde and headed back to the apartment.  But first, I paused momentarily to snap a photograph of Thomas Jefferson's statue.  We had enjoyed the John Adams miniseries on HBO, which gave us a greater appreciation for our founding fathers. 




After a shower and breakfast, I set out for my last day of exploration.  First stop - Grand Palais and Petit Palais, which I've never seen up close.  I had one more ticket left from the carnet and when I arrived at the Champs Elysees Clemenceau Metro stop, I succeeded in purchasing a Mobilis, yay!  I walked the perimeter of the Grand Palais, which appeared to be undergoing some type of renovation.

And then it was off to make my money back on the museum pass.  I decided to visit one of our favorite haunts in Paris, Musee D'Orsay.  I breezed right through the entry for reservation holders and headed straight up to the Impressionists. 

I visited old friends, Degas, Monet, Renoir and paid homage to some favorites, like Whistler's Mother, which had been on loan the last time we visited the D'Orsay.


This minder was just waiting to pounce on anyone who would dare use flash!


Whistler's Mother

Then, I discovered a new friend and favorite - three men scraping a wood floor.  It was Raboteurs de Parquets by Gustave Caillebotte. I was drawn to this painting.  There was something mesmerizing and evocative about it.  All I know is that it would be a different story if the men were fully clothed.


The Wood Scrapers


Then it was off to the Marais and the Musee Cognaq Jay, the former home of the founders of the now-defunct La Samaritaine.  Admission is free here.  I walked fairly quickly through the maison.  While it is a lovely place, there was nothing noteworthy here for me to linger over.

My last lunch was a return visit to L'As du Fallafel.  I got stomachache trying to eat and walk at the same time, but every bite was just as crunchy and delicious as the first time. 

It was on to Musee des Arts et Metiers.  After getting off the Metro at St. Paul, I got rather lost looking for the museum. I initially arrived at the school of the same name, where a gentleman gave me directions in French, which I apparently didn't understand.  Because I wandered around the area for several minutes.  After scrutinizing my map a few more times, I was on the right track.  A few seconds after my epiphany, a couple of men in a truck stopped at a light asked me if I needed help, which I thought was very sweet and considerate.  "Non, merci," I replied. 

The museum itself would not make a bad field trip.  The displays and exhibits here run the gamut of rudimentary counting machines to colonial-age printing presses and moon-landing robots.  My personal favorite was a model of Frenchmen assembling the Statue of Liberty. 



I had one last museum on my list and it wasn't too far from the apartment, so back to Ile de la Cite I went.  The entrance to the Crypt Archeologique is adjacent to Notre Dame.  There was a slight odiferous scent in the air, which I understood to be related to the preservation efforts of the excavation site.  I was exhausted at this point, so it was difficult for me to imagine the remains in its former existence. 


What Lies Beneath Notre Dame

Although the rest of my body was dying to take a nap, my stomach was jonesing for ice cream, specifically caramel and pear ice cream from Berthillion.  I headed back to my local takeaway stand. Although I had received the last scoop of their caramel the day before, I was hopeful that they would have replenished their inventory within the last 24 hours.  Alas, this was not the case.  Strike one. fearless, I headed across the Seine and spotted a café that carried Berthillion but unfortunately, it did not appear that takeaway was an option.  Strike two.  Then I thought it would be a good idea to head toward Ile St. Louis, which, after all, is the home of Berthillion.  The first café I ran into did indeed have Berthillion and had takeaway to boot, but no caramel!  It began to dawn on me that this was a very popular flavor.  Strike three.  I turned the corner and found Esterina.  They had caramel and a double boule was one euro cheaper than the other places!  Yay, victory! 


L'Flore en L'Ile - Strike Three


Score!

The first thought I had in mind was to enjoy my ice cream at Square du Vert-Galant, but I didn't think my feet, or the ice cream would make it that far.  So I enjoyed my ice cream cone on a bench in the garden behind Notre Dame.  The ice cream was delicious of course, but a sudden feeling of sadness came over me again as I sat alone.  Maybe it was a combination of the gloomy sky and my fatigue. After I had crunched on the final piece of cone, I set off for the apartment.  Along the way, I spied fellow Americans staring intently at their Rick Steves while standing on the corner of Pont St. Michel and Quai des Orfevres.  I offered my assistance and they pointed to St. Chapelle on their map.  I pointed my finger in the right direction and they asked, "Is that what the long line is for?"  "Probably," I answered with a smile.

Back at the apartment, I crashed for an hour or so and then did a bit of packing.  Then I was off to do some last-minute shopping.  I made my way to Rue Bonaparte to initiate myself into the Pierre Herme fan club.  Pierre Herme is one of the premier patisseries in Paris.  I selected an assortment of macarons to enjoy immediately, as well as a box to take home to Jay.  My favorites - the the Marron & The Vert Matcha and Plentitude.  The Deliciuex wasn't so bad either. (Jay's verdict - Pierre Herme better than Laduree!)

I headed back to Mon Bon Chien in the 15th eme to pick up more treats for the Yorkshire terrorists, as Jay had reported that they'd immensely enjoyed the first round of peanut butter truffles.  I arrived at the shop to find it completely rearranged.  I recalled that Harriet had mentioned something about moving everything around in the store.  Diablo was lounging on the sofa and didn't seem to be terribly excited about this visitor.  It turns out that he had gotten into hot water earlier and had been placed on time-out. I thanked Harriet profusely for the tickets to the Animal Expo.  We bid adieu and I promised to return soon.


Diablo of Mon Bon Chien

I made another journey to Champs Elysees for a stop at Laduree.  As expected, the line for patisseries was long. I picked up several boxes of assorted macarons and a few pistache, per Jay's request.


Laduree 


So many pastries, so little time!

Outside, it was raining.  (It always seems to rain on my last day in Paris.)  Unfortunately, I had chosen not to take my umbrella with me.  I threw my scarf over my head and ran to the nearest Metro stop.  By the time I popped out of the Cite stop, it had ceased raining.

At the apartment, I finished packing my bags and pondered over my dinner possibilities.  Dinner with Linda was a no-go as she was feeling ill.  I thought it would be nice to gaze at La Tour Eiffel during dinner on my last night, so I headed out to the Trocadero.  I thought I'd check out Le Café de l'Homme.  However, as soon as I walked through its entrance, it was obvious that I wouldn't be able to snag a seat. 

I settled on one of the cafes across the way.  I believe it was called Café du Trocadero.  I picked a table outside and ordered soon enough.  The meal was nothing to write home about, but it was a memorable dinner all the same.  When it came time to order dessert, the waiter informed me that my initial selection was "finished" and asked me if I would like anything in its place.  "Je voudrais quelque chose avec chocolat, s'il vous plait," I replied. ("I would like something with chocolate, please.")  He eventually came out with a piece of chocolate cake. 

Then the gentleman sitting at the table on my left struck up a conversation with me...in French.  He must've seen the puzzled look on my face because he repeated in English, "Where are you from? Your French accent is good."  Yeah right.  "Merci, monsieur. Je suis Americaine."  We conversed for the next half hour.  He was a cardiologist who lived in the 16th arrondissement.  I won't bore you with the details of our conversation.  After I told him that it was my last night in Paris, he offered to take me out around town in his car and go to a place where there was good wine.  I said that I would love to take him up on his offer but I had an early flight the next morning. 

After I bid him farewell and thanked him for a lovely conversation, I took one last look at the iron lady in blue and descended the stairs to the Metro.


Until we meet again, mon amie!