Our Pleasurably Parisian Prelude
Trip Start
Nov 22, 2009
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Trip End
Dec 08, 2009
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Paris, Île-de-France, France
Monday, November 23, 2009
Most people don't realize but international business class can be a dangerous place. Initiating the bed sequence after too much wine is a perilous one way street. The seat engine screeched as my footrest slammed into my carry-on bag pinning it against the little wall in front of it. I turned in agony to my wife for help but she was, once again, asleep. In fact, I think she cracked a smile at the noise of seat 3J wailing in mechanized misery. Eventually, the seat gave up and froze thus saving my camera and laptop; for now.
This whole incident occurred around hour 4 of an 8.5 hour flight. Sidebar: Ashley sleeps a lot. On the whole, the flight was very pleasant and we arrived at Charles Degaulle
Statue of Liberty
Airport on time and ready to attack the day in Paris. We deplaned and walked to customs. Upon arriving at customs there was an unbelievable line. Nobody was moving. After about 20 minutes we realized that literally nobody was getting through. The only announcement we heard was "If you have left your bag at Terminal A Exit 5 please come retrieve it." I called our driver Bernard to tell him of the hold up. He told me not to worry because he was not yet outside. He said something, with his thick accent, about a “bunny and tread” and that the police were not letting him in. Just before hanging up the phone I asked one more time if he knew why we were stuck in line. He said “Of course, it is because of the bomb threat at your terminal. Someone has left a bag outside.” I now realized that they intentionally were not making an announcement to avoid panic. The entire city knew that Charles Degaulle Airport was shut down for a bomb threat except for those directly affected by it. 
Notice The Bomb Threat on The Cart
Our remaining time in line was slightly more stressful but eventually we made it through. There to greet us with a sign with “Ruggeri” was our friend Bernard. When we got to his car he pointed to a bag on the side of the road with all the clothes hanging out. He said “there is the bomb bag” with a chuckle and then got in the car.
Bernard
Bernard is the Frenchiest* man I have ever met, in a good way. His face looks like it is being eaten by his huge white mustache. He is smiley and speaks in such a way that we never know if he is being serious or kidding. For example, he said the ring road around Paris is 32km long and that Paris is broken into 20 sections and shaped like a snail. All of this is true. He also said that it takes about 1 hour to get from our hotel to the Paris Nord train station. This is not true. The only difference between these two statements is his laughter.
The One and Only BERNARD
Bernard was amazing. He waited everywhere for us and made our short time in Paris efficient and enjoyable. He knew the streets better than anyone and knew the back entrance to everything. Bernard’s style of driving seemed, and often times was, completely illegal. If there was traffic in our lane we would slip into oncoming traffic and go around them. If there was a line of cars, we would cut the line. If we wanted a picture of the Eiffel Tower Bernard would just stop the car in the middle of the road.
And then there were the roundabouts. As we approached the first major roundabout I could sense Bernard getting focused and excited. An excited Bernard was not so exciting for us in the back seat. As we approached the roundabout all cars began to slow down and wait for an opportunity to enter the melee. Bernard, on the other hand, accelerated. He giggled like a child as he plunged the car perpendicularly into oncoming traffic. A motorcyclist veered in order to save his own life but Bernard didn’t notice. Bernard’s attention was affixed to the rear view mirror staring at us and fiending for our reaction. After gauging a job well done, Bernard exited the round about and pulled up to our hotel on the Champs Elysees.
*I realize this is not an actual word but it is the only adjective suitable for the sentence so I made it up.
Marriott Champs Elysees
Champs Elysees
There was a coupe playing gin rummy in the lobby. They were old and nice. The hotel was well located and our room was very comfortable. Ashley flooded the bathroom and had to call maintenance. That is about all I remember from this hotel. We spent all our time on the streets. Ride or die.
Stresa
The great Bernard took us to a little Italian spot that Rick Strauss recommended for lunch. Bernard secured the hard to get reservation weeks in advance. We arrived for our 1pm reservation and were struck by two inescapable facts. Number one; the restaurant was REALLY small. Number two; Everyone spoke Italian, some were speaking French and nobody was speaking English. Our waiter was one of the nobodies so we ordered in Italian. It seems counterintuitive to eat Italian in France but it was honestly some of the best pasta I have had in my life. I ordered the rigatoni al ragu with sausage which was incredible but Ashley ordered the showstopper. She had the tagliolini with shaved white truffles, which are currently in season. The neighboring tables oohed and aahed as the waiter shaved the white truffles onto her plate until she said stop. All in all it was a successful two hour lunch.
Louvre
It was raining when we arrived at the Louvre. Bernard reassured us as he pulled in front of the glass pyramid, “Don’t worry I know a secret place to drop you off that is underground. This is just to show you.” A couple high speed turns later we were in the Carrousel Shopping Center
Bonjour Le Louvre!
parking lot underground. We got out and made our way to the entrance of the Louvre. We paid our 9 Euro and entered. After a quick tour through the Greek sculptures we realized we forgot to get a map. The only maps were available at the entrance, a good 10 minute walk from our current location. We aired our plight to a Louvre employee and managed to secure a map in Spanish that someone had left behind. We continued on to the Pintores Italianos where we snapped some candids with Mona and then got a pic of Ashley with the Winged Victory of Samothrace. Around that time the heavy pasta and bottle of wine began to kick in and we headed back to the car and eventually back to our hotel.La Fontaine de Mars
For dinner we headed to an authentic French bistro called La Fontaine de Mars. It is one of the oldest bistros in France and has been frequented by many big politicos including the Obamas. In fact our waiter was the person who waited on the president when he was in France. Ashley and I went completely authentic ordering foie gras and eggs baked in red wine as appetizers. Although morally I have a problem with foie gras and would never order it, it came highly recommended, almost forcefully, by our waiter. They were both amazing. We also had some cured ham that the waiter brought out to taste. For the main course I had the special of the day, cassoulet with sausage and duck confit. The bistro is well known in Paris for its focus on southwest France cuisine so I went with a traditional southwestern dish, as recommended by Bernard. Ashley went with the duck breast. For desert we had crème brulee and gersais coffee. The meal was 2.5 hours and amazing! After we ate, Bernard was waiting for us to take us home for the night. We needed sleep since we had a big day of plains and trains the next morning.
