Trip to Ireland and France,
November 2002

Part 6: Paris

In Paris, I kept a journal:

19 November:
We descended the old, narrow staircase to breakfast at 9:30 am.  Breakfast is served in the somewhat less narrow lobby.  Three small tables occupy the space not necessary for the one-person front desk and access to the staircase.  The lobby is very  tastefully decorated - 19th century style Chinese-themed wallpaper, tightly-spaced, ancient beams are separated by dark salmon pink colored plaster.

Breakfast is tea and coffee with croissants and French bread.  The children had to ascend to the room to wash their hands several times.

Unfortunately, after breakfast Abigail suddenly threw up.  Fortunately, she had the presence of mind to first grab a plastic bag of bread, thus averting an awkward call to the front desk.  She felt fine immediately after (as she had immediately before) however we stayed in the room until 12:30.

The morning weather maps had indicated that there was a chance of a bit of sunshine in the apres-midi, so I did not want to go directly to the Eiffel Tower (which was the children's destination of choice). Instead we descended into the Metro stop at the corner of Blvd. St. Michel and Blvd. St. Germain.  I bought Metro tickets and checked the schedule for the RER train to the airport. After loitering in the Metro for sometime, we returned briefly to the hotel to collect he USB cable for the camera and the bottle of wine for the Blancs that I had lugged from home (a 1997 Hess Collection).

The next stop was the internet place by the Metro.  Purchased half an hour of time, then discovered, to my chagrin, that not only did the all-in-one PC's not have USB ports, but French keyboards have a slightly different layout from American keyboards ('A' and 'Q' switched, as are 'M' and ';').  Sent an email to Julia and checked some BBS's.  Then composed a short letter to the Blancs and used an on-line translation service to generate the French language version.  Copied down the translated text just before the 30 minutes expired.

Took the #10 Metro to the La Motte-Picquet Grenelle stop.  Exited the Metro station by the stairs in front of 52 Avenue de la Motte-Picquet where an au pair and her charge were at that moment exiting the building.  I quickly took advantage of this serendipity and we slipped inside the normally locked doors without missing a step.  I remembered which of the many small staircases off the grand lobby led to the Blanc's apartment but I could not recall which floor they were on.  Three seemed to be about right so that's what I pushed after the four of us squeezed into the tiny center stair elevator.  On the third floor we camped out on the staircase while I carefully made a legible copy of the letter on a clean sheet of paper. Just as I finished, we heard a door open and voices from two floors up.  We hastily struck camp and since the voices remained on the fifth floor, I decided to ascend via the stairs and ask them to verify my choice of floors.

A prosperous, middle-aged man and his young son were closing the single, large door on the 5^e etage when we arrived.  After a bit of confusion caused by my  poor pronunciation, he was happy to help. "Blan-kuh? Blan-kuh? Oh! Blanc!", he said. (I had forgotten to leave the  'c' silent.) "Comme la couleur?"  He indicated that they lived on the floor below - the fourth floor.  We left the note, attached to the bottle with a rubber band, in front of the Blanc's door.

Then on to the Eiffel Tower.  We walked towards the tower through the Champs de Mars stopping for an hour or so at the playgrounds and the hand-operated carousel.  Much fun was had by all.

Finally, up the tower by elevator.  Stopped at the 2nd level to feed the by now famished children with crepes and a waffle.  The top level was cold and windy so we did not spend much time there.  We descended from the 2nd level to the first by the staircase in the west leg.

On the first level, the girls used the photo booth while I used the terminal mounted next to it to connect to the internet and post a message on a BBS.  The device looked to be a Mac running OS-X and one paid with a phone card.  Since I wasn't going to be able to use all the units on my card, I figured that the novelty of connecting to the internet from the Eiffel Tower was worth the charge.

By now it was getting dark.  We left the tower and navigated our way through the street vendors offering great deals on an assortment of gadgets.  Most of them regaled us with jolly cries of "Half price!"

Our next stop was the two-story carousel on the other side of the Seine.  After the children took a couple of rides and I took some pictures, we walked up the Trocadero for some more pictures with the Eiffel Tower as backdrop.  The children were getting tired so I asked Abigail if she'd rather find a place to eat right away or go back to the hotel and find a restaurant near there.  She wisely chose the latter option.

Around the corner from the hotel is a small square flanked by half a dozen bistros.  More eateries lined a small street leading from the square.  The abundance of choices made our decision most difficult. I marched everyone back and forth across the square several times, comparing the menus and ambiance.  Finally Abigail said, "Oh, let's just eat in this one."  So in we went.

Although there were but a few patrons in the large establishment, the smell of cigarette smoke was quite strong.  Mary Alice looked ready to faint, so we left almost as soon as we sat down.  All the other bistros in the square contained smokers too.  I explained that we were unlikely to find a restaurant that did not.  We pressed on in search of a better place anyway.

Fifty yards down the side street off the square, I briefly stopped to read the menu for the Crêperie des Artes.  "OK, let's eat here, said Abigail.  So in we went.  The inside was quite interesting.  The walls, partitions and seats were formed from some concrete-like material and painted the same beige as the ceilings and floors.  The effect transformed the six or seven table establishment into a rather cozy cave.

The couple at the next table, an American student and her French professor were smoking but the ventilation system seemed to handle it well and it soon ceased to be an irritant. The crêpes were good and the fashionably unshaven waiter was helpful, allowing me plenty of time to explain the menu to the children.  The highlight of the meal was my crêpe flambée, lit at the table by the waiter with a quick flick of a cigarette lighter.

After such a meal, it seemed anticlimactic to walk the two blocks back to the hotel so I led everyone in a pleasant walk to Notre Dame.  As soon as we reached the plaza in front of the cathedral, Patrick declared with great urgency that he needed to use the bathroom. A brisk walk back across the Seine got us to the hotel in good time.

20 November:
Tried to get going a little earlier on our last full day in Paris and managed to get up, have breakfast and leave the hotel by 11 am. Returned to Notre Dame.  After we'd been inside for a while, it was announced that mass would begin at noon in the choir.  The mass was very respectful and befitting of the surroundings.  I translated as best I could for the children.

Following mass we took some pictures of the stained glass windows and then got on line for the walk up the towers.  The top was closed for maintenance but the trip up and down the long spiral staircases and the view from the front facade of the cathedral was worth the wait.

After our exit from the cathedral towers, we lingered for a while in the plaza.  Abigail had her portrait drawn by a thickly-bearded, homeless-looking artist while Patrick and Mary Alice chased pigeons.

We strolled back to the hotel along the river walk, stopping to watch police fire and rescue boats hold a mini-conference in the middle of the rapid and turbulent river.  We also saw tour boats and a garbage boat that scraped garbage off the river bottom.

Everyone wanted to return to the playground in the Champs de Mars but we needed to eat first.  Back to the Crêperie des Artes for a late lunch.  Again, the crêpes were good and the waiter from the previous night had shaved, leaving just a small goatee.  He also doubled as the cook.

Took the same Metro ride as the day before and headed straight to the playground.  The children took half a dozen rides on the hand-cranked carousel where they were each given a stick with which to pull a ring off a board on each revolution.

After six trips, Patrick said he wanted to go and play in the playground; the stick had been difficult and tiring for him to use with his right hand.  I gave the girls each three tickets and followed after Patrick who had sprinted into the play area.

It was getting dark by now and I immediately lost sight of him.  I spent a couple of worried minutes peering into dim playground equipment.  All of a sudden Patrick came dashing towards me, screaming.  He was obviously in a great deal of distress.

I grabbed his hand and together we ran through the Champs de Mars in search of a secluded tree.  One was found in the nick of time.  Fortunately, the approaching light rain and need for dinner had emptied that part of the park and Patrick was able to proceed unobserved.

When we returned, we found that the carousel had closed.  The children played for another hour in spite of the light drizzle that ended only after we left the playground.  Unlike yesterday, I had remembered to bring everyone's hats and gloves.

No one felt like going back to the Eiffel Tower, so after watching a small dog chase a small ball for half an hour, we walked along the avenue de la Motte Picquet to where I remembered that there was a supermarket.  There we bought bread, camembert, water and concentrated apple syrup to have for dinner at the hotel, and also some jars of interesting sounding food for Anna.

Back at the hotel, we packed, ate and bathed.

21 November:

Got a late start on our trip to the airport.  We let the hotel after 8 am to catch a 10:15 am flight.  Fortunately, we had done most of our packing the night before and the R.E.R. stop for the train to CDG was at the nearest Metro station.  Even so, we must have just missed  train and had to wait 15 minutes for the correct one to arrive.

The train deposited us at the Air France terminal at 9:00.  Check-in was to close at 9:15 so I figured we'd be OK. Unfortunately, I chose the wrong direction within the terminal and we walked a few hundred yards to the check-in desks where a helpful clerk told me that the check-in desks for our flight were in the opposite wing.  Back we went to the train station and then a few hundred yards further on.  We finally reached the desk at 9:20.  The people behind the counter gently chided me for being late. However, since the flight was not full, we got our seats anyway.

Our last act in France was to mail Mary Alice's postcards just before boarding the bus to the plane.  Once on the bus, we waited half an hour for the last passengers to arrive at the gate.  The flight home was uneventful and we arrived back in Napa tired but happy to be home.