segway and thurs and fri

Its Saturday a.m. we haven’t made an entry in the past few days because we have been busy walking, touring, eating and photographing. We slept until 11:30 today. Though as per usual a collection of shouts and banging woke us much earlier, and we attempted to sleep through it. Perhaps one day soon we will get up and leave the house before noon, though it hasn’t happened yet as we have not gotten back before midnight.

SEGWAY
Thursday
On Thursday we began the day by getting supplies from the Monoprix Gourmet, besides food they sell wine and liquor, clothes, makeup, house wares, books, toys and notions. There are other Monoprix all over the city, but they are not all “Gourmet.”

We bought bananas(much smaller then we generally get, but perfectly ripe) chicken, rhubarb jam, bread, butter, mustard, assorted cheeses, including the stinkest camembert ever, wine and, most importantly, coffee. It is interesting to grocery shop in another country and language. The products are simultaneously familiar and foreign, creating an odd sense of displacement. Although a few of the brands are the same, most are alien, strange, or simply unnerving. Why a whole section for canned meats? And an entire isle of cookies? A whole isle of sliced ham, from Serrano to prosciutto, which we found delightful, but expensive. Even the brands that are familiar seem to be selling slight variations of their American counterparts, as if we are in a dream or surreal alternate universe.

We spent the afternoon in the park surrounding the Tour de Eiffel. First we made our reservation for our Segway tour – on a street so hard to find we had to stop into the Paris Hilton(hee-hee, she’s named after a hotel, and of course who hasn’t stopped into her?) to ask the concierge for directions. After securing our spot for the evening, we bought sandwiches from an Asian mom & pop tiny store, then crossed the street to the fruit and vegetable stand where a shuffling older man carefully picked out my fruits as I pointed and said “oui” and “s’il vous plait” over and over. After eating, we lay on the grass and alternately napped and read as the gypsies tried to guess our language so they could beg from us. English speakers must be easy marks, but as New Yorkers, it was easy to tell them “non.”

In the evening we went on a segway tour of the center of the city. After getting the hang of segwaying, we were able to move quickly through the city, stop on a dime, and turn sharply at a moment’s notice. Check out WWW.citysegwaytours.com for pictures of them. They also do tours of Chicago, New Orleans, Nice, and Washington DC. Though we had already seen many of the sights we visited on the segways, it was great to see Paris on such a unique form of transportation. Tourists and Parisians alike stopped in their tracks to check us out and we are probably on a thousand videos and snapshots of total strangers. Tim our guide was great, friendly and knowledgeable but not too bubbly. The tours are run by young Americans, most seemingly recently out of college. We may also go on their bicycle tour of Versailles next week.

The only bad thing was getting home late hungry and exhausted again!
Friday
With information from the staff at the Segway Tours office, we headed off to the BHV, across from the Hotel de Ville. BHV is a department store, perhaps the Sears of Paris, it was here that we found an AC cord for the mac hence we can blog from our petite atelier.

Besides electronics, BHV carried clothing, furniture and house wares. We found a small pink fridge from Smeg that would fit perfectly into our apartment at home. It even has a built in wine rack. Not that Terry would ever allow a pink fridge, but it was amazing to check out.

The Hotel de Ville area, by the way, it is the city hall. They hold exhibits there inside, and outside there is the Place de Ville, were in the winter they build an ice skating rink, and in the summer they hold protests. We didn’t see an actual protest, I read about it, however we did see a dog tossing and catching his own ball as his owner looked on.

Upon leaving the area we walked across a bridge to the Isle de la Cite, walked around the back of Notre Dame and over another bridge to the Isle de St. Louis. We found a charming creperie for lunch and then did a walking tour of the Isle de St. Louis These two tiny islands are were civilization first inhabited the area that is now Paris. Even now you can understand why, they would be quite protected from invaders, but allow easy access to the banks which were full of forests and marsh lands. As we walked we saw many fine examples of architecture from a wide range of eras. The Isle de St. Louis has always been a posh area, and there are many interesting homes, both recent and historical. We saw one from the 16th C. that crosses over the street, and another from the 17th C. that has gilt trim on the balconies and the fish shaped drainpipes. We found an ice cream stand, and finished our walk with these delicious treats in hand.

After our tour of the island we walked along the Rue de Rivoli stopping at a café we remembered from our first visit. It had been incredibly authentic, as if we stepped into a café at the turn of the last century. Here we had a glass of white wine and recovered for an hour or so. Around us were “real” Parisians going about their business, eating, drinking, talking, flirting… As we sat, we tried to figure out what was different from our previous trip. The café seemed the same, yet different. One thing we realized is that our last visit was in winter, so the front of the café had been closed. Now it was open, and the roar of the traffic seemed loud, especially as it was about rush hour. The sound of Paris is different then New York, or any American city. There are many scooters, of all sorts, some Vespas from a variety of eras, and many other makes and models. These give the traffic a different tone, letting you know that you are not in “Kansas anymore.” Also we noted the café had a back room we had not noticed before, and everyone from bartender to client was two decades younger then they had been. On the way out I asked the charming waiter if they had remodeled, he confirmed that three years ago the café had been completely redone, and the back was opened up. It is still a nice place of course, but I do rather miss that untouched look it used to have.

We walked towards the Place de la Bastille, winding through the narrow inviting streets of the Marais. At the Place des Vosges we stopped to marvel at the loveliness of one of Paris’ most perfect squares. Built in the 16th C, it was influenced by the architecture of the Italian Renaissance, it consists of a park, surrounded by a cloister and above that perfectly symmetrical brick and stone houses. When the park was build it was the sight of duels and jousting, and grand fetes including a three day party to celebrate the marriage of Louis the 13th to Anne of Austria, but today it rings out with the sounds of squealing children, parents corralling them, lovers making their plans, and older men playing boules. The ground floor of the buildings now house cafes, shops, and for some reason many doctors offices. Also the French offices of Yoshi Yoshimoto. There are benches under those perfect alleys of square trimmed trees the French seem so found of, sandboxes, grass to lie on, and fountains to play in. One young boy stripped down to his undies and was dedicatedly excavating a fountain as if he were Jules Vern. This square was a fashionable address, Victor Hugo lived on it for over 14 years, writing Les Miserables, and many other things while living here. Just to the side of the square we discovered another perfect garden and fabulous Hotel. It had been built for a famous gambler, who lost his entire fortune, including this house in one night.

For dinner we followed we followed a suggestion from the DK guide and found an amazing restaurant called La Passage. It’s name refers to the fact that it is down an alley, or passage, as the French refer to them. Even though it was almost 8pm, the restaurant only had one other table of patrons when we arrived. I became worried that the guide, which is from our first trip to Paris together, had steered us wrong. From the kitchen came the owner, a robust bald man with a twinkle in his eye. We sat along a banquet on top of which paraded magnums of wine and champagne. Our host suggested the Kir, homemade he declared, and possibly the best we would ever taste. How could we possibly refuse? It was wonderfully refreshing and delicate, now I understand the draw of the drink. For dinner our host again made suggestions, which we happily followed. For the first course we had a charcuterie plate, with pate, sausage, prosciutto, salad, and cornichons, a perfect combination. As he set down the plate in front of me, the owner made a motion that I was to share it with Terry, of course I had to play along, so I suggested that I would only under duress. This seemed to make him very happy. For dinner Terry had chicken cooked with lemon and herbs, with a side of potatoes which the restaurant is deservedly famous for. I had beef, cooked with lemon, wrapped in a lovely fresh pita with a side of hummus, olive oil and pine nuts. Both meals were delicious and satisfying. We drank a 2001 St. Estephe which was on special that month, and a great deal. As we ate, other patrons began to fill the restaurant. One other table of tourists, but mainly people he knew and greeted warmly by name. After our meal we requested the cheese platter, a divine decision as it turned out. Lifting the towel off of the plate, our host declared, “Voila, les bijoux!” and indeed they were gems. Five lovely cheeses, each a perfect example of it’s type. With our cheese we drank a lovely sweet white burgundy. We left perfectly full, happy, and content with the world, with the knowledge that we had experienced a truly sublime event. We vowed to go back before we leave.

On our way to the Seine, we encountered what at first we were scared might be a riot, or a strike, but turned out to be a well organized group of evening rollerbladers and bicyclists. As we walked through the mob of people, we saw Parisians of every stripe, young, old, and in between. By the time we had cleared the group we had walked through 4 blocks of rolling adventurers. We heard the whistles, and with that they took off into the night. For the next several blocks we continued to see people rolling towards the group, running late but hoping to catch up. On the walk home we promenaded along the Seine. There were thousands of Parisians sitting along the banks and bridges, drinking wine, singing, flirting, and just hanging out. What a civilized city where the citizens can enjoy themselves with a glass of wine or beer and not be bothered by the police. If you opened a bottle of wine in NY, the police would ticket you and pour it into the gutter.

We have walked a lot even by NY standards. The last 2 stages (flights) of 7 story walk up are getting easier but still burn a little. We are used to a walkup, but since ours is only 5 stories those last 2 are a shock especially after 12-15 hours on the forced march of beauty.

We are starting to understand the lay of the city much better. Its really kind of small and cozy compared to NY or London. Although our neighborhood seems to be a business district where everything is shut by midnight, it is central and easily accessible from everywhere.