tbaroundtheworld

After our Starbucks detour, we went on to the Eiffel Tower for one last visit.The rain just kept getting worse and worse, and out in the open the accompanying wind made it even more miserable. My crappy Eddie Bauer umbrella had a minor break in one section and the resulting dip was pouring water down my neck. And the fancy water-proofing I'd done my shoes with (thanks REI) was just beginning to fail. But Churros beckoned so on we went, picking up an order and having a nice chat with the seller about the weather. We stood under the Tower, mostly out of the rain watching the tourists trying to have fun while the two army security guards stood by, wishing that they'd drawn different duty for the day. Two young women came up and asked for advice on how to buy tickets for the elevator ride to the top of the Tower. The giant yellow signs on two of the four legs said "closed" (no doubt due to the rain) and we pointed that out. They kept insisting that they wanted to buy tick

We took some time this morning to set the stage for tomorrow's depart. Laundry, gathering stuff, things that need to be done to meet out early pick-up. We had a late breakfast and went down into another rainy day. I'll say this, Paris has met every one of our expectations except for weather.  We exit our building each time through the bottom of the airshaft. Today, with all the rain it was flooded. But the kindly construction workers had built a nice walkway using scraps of lumber and plywood. Talk about an upscale vacation.  Outside it was still misting, enough for an umbrella and just the right amount of wind to turn it inside out every half block. Crossing Vaneau we took a left up Varenne and passing the Rodin Museum we crossed the boulevard and wound around Invalides. Our goal - a Starbucks on Rue Ste. Dominique. Yes, I know, but the old reliable makes getting a cup of  coffee easy. Besides, where else can you get a warm drink and listen to Getz and Gilberto while drink

One of the things we continue to learn is that reservations are a good idea if you want to eat dinner in Paris. We walk in, they ask, we say “non” and then they look around and shuffle their feet and find us somewhere to sit. With a tiny bit of disapproval in their voice. Last night we sat at the bar which turned out to be a fantastic choice. Tonight we were shown to a table in the back room across from a British family with two young- children. Being a parent, I am not against kids in restaurant. Being a consumer, I am against loud kids in restaurant. I hung up our coats, scanned the menu and after the little boy had yelled 4 times at his father, I decided that in no way did I want to pay for a 100€ meal while being jolted every 30 seconds by a 10-year old yelling. So I grabbed our coats from the coat rack and we headed to the door, stopping to tell the second in charge that our fellow diners were just too loud. I managed that in my best French and I expected the owner to say “au rev

Last night we had dinner at a chic little place down the street. Only 3 items on the daily menu, all decorated in black and modern, and with not having a reservation we sat at the bar. It was a very nice evening for a complete ad-lib. I had rare slices of beef with a spicy mustard sauce, MLW had a slice of halibut served on eggplants cooked in curry. We both had French wines that would never make it all the way over to the US. Our server was wonderful, treating us like welcomed guests instead of the last minute interlopers that we were. She even took the time to explain the tipping logic. In spite of no expectations, I took care of her. Recall that yesterday morning we’d planned on going to the Musée d'Orsay but the lines were so long that we called it off and went grave hunting instead. I’d taken the time to check the museum web site and found a graphic that showed that Tuesday was indeed the worst day to go based on crowds. Wednesday was reportedly the best. And that the only

Last night was dedicated to a wonderful dinner hosted by an old friend of MLW’s, one not seen in decades. Lots of wine, great conversation spanning world events and family minutiae all set in a garret apartment situated in a 17 th century building, ½ block from the Seine. We walked in silent rain-slicked cobblestone streets largely devoid of people, save a few youngsters stumbling out of closing bars. The life to be found was the police contingent that guards the Rue de Varenne, the cross-street that leads to our apartment. I always find it so pleasant to wander around a big city at night. Assuming of course that it’s safe. We didn’t feel any qualms about this hike. The sky above our airshaft was a shiny, beautiful blue this morning so we decided to take the short walk up the street to the Musée d’Orsay. When we’d been by on Easter Sunday, the queue was huge and we figured that today, being a Tuesday, it wouldn’t be. We were wrong- the tail end of the line was at the “30 minutes fr