Don’t forget to read Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, and Day 4 if you haven’t already!

It was raining when we woke up on Tuesday.  Our plan was already to visit a few museums so we figured that was fine.  We realized we needed to buy another umbrella though (we’d only brought one) so we did that and headed to the metro to go to the Musee d’Orsay.  It was pouring rain and the line to get in was really long—I suppose everybody had the same idea to go to a museum on a rainy day, plus the Louvre was closed.  The museum pass line was long as well which was strange.

I think Chris was starting to tire of getting his picture taken.  Or he was tired of waiting in line in the rain.  Who doesn’t love getting their picture taken??

Once we entered the museum the signs said not to take pictures.  Lots of people seemed to ignore this but I am a rule follower so I didn’t take any pictures.  (I also had no desire to end up in a French prison or something, I saw that movie with Claire Danes.)  The museum was GREAT except that it was so busy that we just couldn’t deal with it for more than an hour.  All those people.  We thought it was the day we picked (Louvre closed, rainy) but we talked to some other folks who said in their experience d’Orsay was just always like that.  Too bad, because it probably had my favorite art!  Nonetheless we would return to give it another shot.

Next came lunch.  We found a nearby brasserie (remember, that’s the one you want for a really late lunch) and I ordered a goat cheese salad.  This was amazing!

Heavy on the goat cheese and toast, light on the salad.  More delicious, less healthy.  I heart France.

Drinking a cafe crème.

Next we decided to go to the Army Museum and Napoleon’s Tomb.  I plotted a course to walk there that I thought would take about 15 minutes.  Naturally we got totally lost—in fact this was one of the times that I because nearly desperate in our inability to figure out which direction to go, looking at the map every few feet yet still feeling hopelessly confused and lost.  We traveled at least 1/2 miles out of the way and almost gave up several times.  Like an injured kitten, I lashed out at Chris, who had the gall to suggest we hail a cab…the idea of giving up is what really made me get serious and start walking HOLDING THE MAP IN FRONT OF ME.

At this point, Chris pointed out that in fact THIS was the most amazing thing about Jason Bourne, that he could open a map of Paris and within a few seconds know both where they were and where they needed to go and then he would GET there.  Forget the fighting, the driving, and the sprinting.  It’s his navigational skills that most impressed us.  (Yes, I’m aware he’s a fictional character.)

Finally we saw this, which made us feel like we might be near the museum.

And indeed we were, though we ended up entering in the back rather than the front.  Whatever, we found it.  Chris loved this museum.  They had all different manner of armor and weaponry, from the medieval ages until the more recent.

Then we went to Napoleon’s Tomb.

Not too small.

This is overlooking his tomb.  I don’t really care where I’m buried, but I’m thinking something like this might be pretty nice.  And appropriate.  I am pretty fancy.

After visiting the tomb we headed back into the museum to go over the WWI and WWII exhibit.  It was interesting seeing the history of the wars from the French standpoint.  (Spoiler alert:  both wars were a complete waste—I may be biased as I think all war is a waste, but still).

The Dome des Invalides—it’s what’s over the Tomb.  Had I read the guidebook more carefully I would have known this already and it would have helped us navigate.  Oh well.

We headed back to our neighborhood then, the Marais District.  We decided to grab a drink somewhere before dinner, and then have dinner at the place where we’d had wine the first day, Au Bourguignon Du Marais.  We had a drink at a Scottish Pub nearby, and then went to dinner.

We ended up sitting next to another couple desperately clutching the guidebook (They were more hard core than us as theirs was a library copy—oh, and yes, this was a guidebook recommended restaurant).    We chatted a bit with them—they shared some suggestions with us and vice versa.  We saw a lot of people in Paris with the book but often they were older.  I guess it’s the PBS crowd? Or younger people don’t like to follow plans and directions, or don’t have money for actual travel?

The guidebook recommended the “oeufs en meurette” and “boeuf bourguignon” so that’s what I had.  Well, we split the “entree” and I ate my plat all my myself.  I forget what Chris had for his dinner but he enjoyed it as well.

We were stuffed after dinner and didn’t order dessert.  Another fantastic day!  Next:  Versailles.

Don’t forget to read Day 1, Day 2, and Day 3 if you haven’t already!

Today was to be a big day.  We planned to see Musee De L’Orangerie and the Louvre.  After that I figured if we had the energy we’d go to the Eiffel Tower and maybe eat dinner in that area.  We took the metro to the Orangerie Museum and of course got turned around after getting off the stop, which worked well enough because we got to wander through the Tuileries Gardens a bit.  Oh, note to readers: I have heard that people do not run in Paris.  This is not true.  People were running EVERYWHERE, but especially at the Tuileries and around the Eiffel Tower, and in pretty much every park we saw.  Maybe people didn’t run a few years ago, who knows, but they certainly do now.  We saw a woman running holding a bottle of Perrier.  But I digress.

Here’s why we love the Tuileries.  This awesome movement from Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition.” Every time somebody says “Tuileries” that’s what I think of.  Things I did not know until I visited Paris:  The Tuileries are a garden.  And used to be a palace.  (For more information, you can google it.  I could tell you more or even link to something, but hey, that would just be me googling, and why don’t you just do your own google? 😉 )

Chris in front of the Tuileries.  They weren’t super great—had lots of sand around and I’m not a huge fan of sand.  (What a weird thing to say, right? I feel like this is one of my weirder Paris blog posts so far…must be the NyQuil talking…)

Chris is not a navigator—that’s my role in the relationship.  Normally I am really good with maps and directions, but Paris…I was GREAT with the RER and metro, but the walking just was a disaster.  We’d go one way and it would turn out to be the wrong way, but then the other way would turn out to be wrong TOO and I’d have no idea what happened.  We’d eventually find what we were looking for (until Montmartre, when we just gave up entirely, a story for another day) but I’d have no idea why it was so hard and what went wrong.  At first I’d be embarrassed to be walking around with a map in front of me, and then I realized even WITH the map I would still occasionally be hopelessly lost.

I realized the issue was that the Orangerie Museum just wasn’t that big.  Not like the Louvre.  You can’t fail to find the Louvre because I believe it is visible from the moon.  But we did find the museum (back up plan was, skip the museum.  I’m glad we found it because it was delightful.)

The museum was very nice.  Lots of Monet and other stuff like that. Some really awesome HUGE paintings that he made specifically for the museum. We were there about an hour, and then needed lunch.

Mmmmmm…Croque Madame.  This may have been the tastiest one I had.  The yolk ran all over the place, and an open faced sandwich was better because there was twice as much cheese!

After lunch we walked through the Tuileries again to get to the Louvre.  It was very sandy, like I’d said, but the statues were fun to look at.  We are definitely statue people.  We are also really immature as we giggled QUITE a bit at the nude statues.

Anyway, the thing you should know about the Louvre is that it is huge.  All of that building is the Louvre.  Crazy, right? If there were less tourists around that would be a way better picture too.  Or not.  The direct sunlight doesn’t make for great pictures.  (Yeah, I know, one little mini-lesson with Sarah Crowder and I’m a photographic expert.  But honestly, I did learn a few things from her. Yet I still took this next picture and posted it.)

Oh, and you get to skip all the lines with the Museum Pass.  We went in a side entry for groups and pass holders and before we knew it, we were in the Louvre!  Things that don’t help:  maps of the Louvre.  Or alternately, when I get tired I am just unable to read a map?

Unrelated: The Mona Lisa is overrated.

And here’s some Louvre pictures:

 

Chris and I realized we both prefer sculpture to paintings—we never realized this before, and decided to try to hit up the Rodin museum before we left Paris (this didn’t happen, but oh well.) Anyway, after hours of museum-ing (is that a word? I believe so…) we finally left.  We were tired and hungry and I figured we needed a snack, a coffee, and somewhere to sit down.  (Do you know how much your feet hurt after several hours of museum going? Lots.)

Oh, did you see this Onion article about visiting museums?  VERY FUNNY.

We saw this awesome metro stop.  VERY decorated!

We left the Louvre in search of food and found a little Italian place with “cheap” coffee (under 3 euros).

I looked at the map and realized we were really near the Opera Garnier, a very fancy opera house (we were also within sight of it, so that helped us navigate.) We decided to go see it closer, then catch the metro and head to the Eiffel Tower, hang out there, then eat dinner.  Our plan was in motion!

Opera Garnier.  We didn’t go in but we walked around it.  VERY FANCY.

We passed this place on our way to the Eiffel Tower.  ICE CREAM EMERGENCY!  We walked down a street in the Rue Cler neighborhood that Rick Steves recommended, then we had a quick happy hour drink on the end of it.  Or two 😉 (We actually had a conversation between ourselves about what could we do at 5:00 ish as it was too early to eat dinner.  Suddenly it hit us.  Oh, right, happy hour.  They have that in France too.)

Then it was Eiffel Tower time.  (This is different from peanut butter jelly time, just fyi.)

We sat and watched the Tower for awhile, and then we decided we’d grab dinner and return after dark to see the Tower lit up.  We looked at a few places the guidebook recommended and settled on a cheaper one (Chris wasn’t too hungry and I figured we shouldn’t spend a lot if he didn’t really feel like eating.  I am always hungry.)

Steak and frites!  The place we chose had a great fixed price menu (The French call this simply, the “menu”).

After dinner, we took a bottle of wine with us to hang out on the lawn of the Tower.

The last time I had been to the Eiffel Tower at night was on Bastille Day in 1997.  There were a FEW more people there then…I have only vague recollections, but I recall it was a madhouse and there were tens of thousands of people around.

This was amazing.  There were people around, but not too many.  It was so relaxing and (dare I say) romantic.  We drank wine straight from the bottle and at the top of the hour we watched a sparkling light show on the Tower.  It was one of the best evenings ever.

Oh, and we didn’t go up the Tower.  I just didn’t think that would be a good idea for me.  I might have been fine, but I got really freaked out thinking about it.  Silly fear of heights!

This is my continuing vacation recap series.  You can read about Day 1 and Day 2 if you haven’t.

Sunday’s plan: laundry (Chris needed to do it as he had been gone a week already), then the Pompidou Center, Historic Paris Walk, and then if time, the Left Bank Walk (both walks from the guidebook.)  Well.  Adding up the time Rick thought everything would take it seemed like a nice afternoon, but it turned out we didn’t get started quite as “early” (10 am?) as I’d hoped, and then laundry took longer.  Oh well.

There was a Laundromat right near the apartment though.  It was easy enough to figure out with the help of a few other English speaking customers.

Chris was working hard on the laundry.  We’d thought it would be quicker, but the wash load took about 45 to 50 minutes and then the drying was another 20 to 25 minutes, and all in all, we didn’t get going until 1:30 or 1:45.  I decided we’d ditch the Pompidou Center since neither of us are huge Modern Art fans, and just head towards the Notre Dame.

The Historic Paris Walk started with the Notre Dame, which was very close to our apartment.  We didn’t plan to climb the tower (I have this fear of heights that keeps me from doing that sort of thing) but otherwise would be following the plan.

It was a beautiful, sunny day!  What we didn’t anticipate was how hot it would get.

On the bridge to the Notre Dame.

Facing the other way.

It was too sunny to take really good pictures.  We tried.

So we got to the Notre Dame and got in the line to enter—it moved very quickly and soon we were inside.

We walked around, and I tried to use the guide to figure out what we were looking at.  I knew on my last trip to Paris we had just sort of wandered around and I felt like I had missed a lot of historical and cultural things, so this time I was eager to understand everything (ha!).

Granted, we were already “failing” on the walk, having entered the church right away without looking up too much and we didn’t go into the Archeological Crypt which probably would have been really cool.  I tried not to get too obsessive about following every step and figured that having a bit of flexibility and following whims was also a big part of traveling.

We came out of the church and figured we should backtrack and find “Point Zero.”  I stood on it for Chris to take a picture—reminiscent of the “four corners” pictures from my youth.

On the left hand side of the picture is the line to get into the Notre Dame.  I like this yellow shirt because it really showcases my belly button.

The coolest part to me about the Notre Dame is that they started building it in 1163 and didn’t finish until 1345.  Any time you think, man, it seems like that fill-in-the-blank has been under construction for a long time…think of the Notre Dame.  One could have spent one’s entire life building it, and not started nor finished it.  Crazy.

The flying buttresses.

Next we went to the Deportation Memorial.  We were allowed to take pictures, but asked not to put them on the internet.  I’ve decided to respect that for my blog here.  I believe if you have read Sarah’s Key that that helps you to understand what the Deportation Memorial is about (somebody correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that is at least part of it.)  There were 200,000 French victims of the Nazi Concentration Camps, and there was a room with a light for each of those.  It seemed to go on forever.

After that sombering experience, we needed a pick me up, so we decided to go in search of gelato.  Lots of people recommended the Berthillon ice cream store, but we wanted gelato, so we went to look for Amorino Gelato on the Ile St. Louis.  We first went over the wrong bridge though, and came across some “locks of love.”

Being the hopeless romantics we are, we decided we needed our own lock.  Luckily the souvenir sellers nearby sell them!

I decided to write our wedding date and just our initials since it was a small lock.

We locked it on.  We kept the keys though—I learned later that you are supposed to throw them into the river, but isn’t that littering?  I suppose putting the lock on is as well, but hmm.

That’s where it is.

After that we did find the gelato place.  It was a perfect treat.  We stood in the shade and ate. The gelato serving lady was one of the only stereotypical “French” people we ran into.  I was trying to order a flavor called “L’Inimitabile” and was having just a little trouble pronouncing it, but I was gesturing to it as well, and she just refused to look at where I was pointing and made me suffer through.  It was actually pretty funny.  I got that flavor and Speculoos flavor, and Chris got (I think) Chocolate and Caramel.  All was good.

We continued along the walk after that.  One of the most interesting things from the bit about Medieval Paris: (from the guidebook)

“Along rue St. Séverin, you can still see the shadow of the medieval sewer system. The street slopes into a central channel of bricks. In the days before plumbing and toilets, when people still went to the river or neighborhood wells for their water, flushing meant throwing it out the window. At certain times of day, maids on the fourth floor would holler, “Garde de l’eau!” (“Watch out for the water!”) and heave it into the streets, where it would eventually wash down into the Seine.”

For the rest of the trip, every time we walked down a street that sloped to the center we thought of that.  City living today is much nicer isn’t it?  WAY less sewage in the streets.

The organ at St. Severin.  Somebody was practicing it while we were there and it was a strange modern piece, very spooky seeming.  Especially because they were practicing, and kept repeating the same part.

We continued on the tour and got to Sainte-Chapelle.  Originally I had planned for us to buy a four-day museum pass at the Pompidou Center, but now we were getting it here instead.  I had been stressing over how to fit the museums into two days, and finally I realized that we should just splurge, buy the four day pass, and not stress.

The stained glass was amazing!

We finished the Tour, and decided we were too hot and tired to do anything else except go sit in a cafe and enjoy a coffee and a snack.

We did, and then we took the metro home.  We were trying to figure out what to do for dinner and I remembered a friend had tweeted about a restaurant called L’Ilot Vache on Ile St Louis that she said was fantastic.  We decided to head out and see if we could get a table.

We found it and were seated immediately.  We were quite early for dinner (probably before 7 pm) but the restaurant quickly filled up.

Oh, and I should mention there was a lot of cow decor.

Part of the twitter conversation that led us here…

There was a “menu” which means a fixed price menu.  Four courses for a set price (can’t recall—36 euros maybe?  maybe 40?).

That one picture is a huge pail of sour cream for the tart tatin.  The most “fun” part of the menu was that it was entirely in french and we didn’t want to seem like complete idiots (or ask the waiter to translate EVERYTHING for us) so parts of what we ordered were surprises.

We agreed (later) that this was our favorite meal in Paris.  We were also impressed by how the waiter served all the tables in the restaurant (maybe 12?) and had no problems at all.  He was amazing.

Thus concludes our third day in Paris.  After dinner we walked (slowly) back to our apartment, and shuffled up the 5 flights of stairs.

Read Day 1 of Paris here if you haven’t.

Where did we leave off?  Chris and I stayed the night at Le Meridien Etoile in Paris, a very nice hotel (stated rate was 499 euros a night, I kid you not) not too far from the Arch de Triumphe.  The symphony was being sponsored to stay in the hotel, but we were on our own after the first night.  I had done some research and we decided to rent an apartment for the rest of the time.  I found one in the Bastille neighborhood for a reasonable rate, so our plan for the day was to relax (Chris was exhausted after 4 cities in 4 days), move, and just walk around a bit.

First came breakfast (true to form, I took tons of pictures of my food.) The hotel had a breakfast buffet and we had free tickets for it.  I believe it was approximately 30 euros otherwise, which, without alcohol is so not worth it.  It was worth free however.

The sausages and eggs were my favorite parts.  We had to beg for coffee (weird, do the French not guzzle coffee or espresso like we Americans?) but enjoyed our breakfast well enough.  We were meeting Omry, our host, at 2 pm, but we decided the best thing to do was to leave the hotel, take the metro to the new area, and then find a cafe to hang out in.

Rick Steves suggested we buy a “carnet” (ten-pack) of metro tickets, so we did that.  (Well, we bought two).  We took Line 1 from the hotel stop to our new stop, St Paul.  We found a lovely restaurant nearby and had some wine.  Yes, it was around 1 pm.  We were on vacation!

The apartment was fairly easy to find, and we buzzed up for Omry.  Carrying a suitcase up to the 5th floor—and keep in mind, that’s the 5th floor in France, which is actually the 6th floor—that was the hardest part.  Oh, and I mean hardest part of life.  I think all the workouts I’ve done over the past three years were building up to this:  carrying a large suitcase up 5 flights of narrow, curved, slightly slanted downwards stairs. I don’t know how we made it, but we did.  Omry was there, the apartment was GREAT, and after chatting with him about a few things, it was ours for the rest of the week.  Here’s the link to it if you are interested—we would absolutely recommend it, though the kitchen is VERY small and the plumbing isn’t great, it is a terrific location and was all we needed for the week.

He also left us a basket of fruit and a bottle of wine.  We were instructed to let the neighbors know we were friends of his if anyone asked—he had moved in with his girlfriend not too long ago and figured he’d make some money renting the apartment out.

A very Parisian view from the window!

After meeting Omry and dumping off our stuff, we headed out in search of lunch.  We used Rick Steves’ guide to find a nearby restaurant…that was closed as it was after lunch (the trick is, if you want food in the off-meal hours, you must find a brasserie, not a restaurant), so we found a brasserie he recommended called Royal Turenne and ate there.

This was the biggest pepper shaker we’d ever seen.

I had a salad with duck foie gras.  WOW this stuff was amazing.

We had originally thought we were meeting up with some friends after lunch so we headed back to our apartment to do so.  It turned out they weren’t able to so after doing a few things online (the apartment had wi-fi) we headed out again to walk around and ultimately eat dinner.  We headed towards the river, which was only a few blocks away, but due to the turns and twists of Paris’s streets we ended up much further away than we anticipated and ultimately had to consult a map several times.  As easy at the metro system was to navigate, the streets were the opposite—I was continually getting lost or ending in a different place than I thought we would.  The streets were not laid out in a grid or planned in any way, which is why they are so challenging.

Looking up from the courtyard of our apartment building.

Me taking a picture of Chris taking a picture.

We got thirsty from our travels and popped into a convenience mart for water.  The water wasn’t cold, but the Perrier was.

Is there anything more French than drinking a can of Perrier down by the River Seine?  I think not.

We wandered around a bit and then decided to figure out where we were and find somewhere for dinner.

We were near the Pompidou Center—how weird is this building?

We finally panicked and decided to eat at an Italian restaurant that was really crowded.  It wasn’t great, but it was fine.  I had the lasagna and enjoyed it—Chris had a veal parmesan type thing and thought was kind of “meh”.  But the wine was good and cheap 🙂

After eating we went back to our apartment to hang out…and drink more wine.  Basically it was a really good wine drinking day for us!

I ended up going through the guidebook a bit more after all that and planning out a rough guideline for the itinerary for the week (finally!  before we got there it was too overwhelming but after wandering and riding the metro it all made sense).  (From henceforth I shall refer to Rick Steves’ Paris guidebook simply as the guidebook, as it was awesome and helped SO much with our sightseeing.)

rough plan (this was Saturday, so)–

Sunday: Laundry, “Historic Paris Walk” from the guidebook which includes Notre Dame, Left Bank Walk

Monday: L’Orangerie, the Louvre, Eiffel Tower

Tuesday: D’Orsay Museum, Army Museum and Napoleon’s Tomb, Rodin Museum

Wednesday: Versailles

Thursday: Montmartre Walk which includes Sacre-Couer, anything else we thought of.

More to come!  I don’t know if you are enjoying reading about my trip or just sitting there angry at me, but I love looking back at vacation posts, so I’m forging ahead 🙂

I’m sick, tired, jetlagged, and suffering from serious wine and cheese withdrawal.  Yes, I’m home from Paris!  I just uploaded over 500 pictures from my camera to my computer and weeded through them to find some decent ones to share with the world.  That’s you (and my facebook friends, of course.)

I flew to Paris all by myself.  I’d never flown so far alone—I’ve been flying alone for various reasons since high school, but never an international flight.  I felt very mature and worldly.  And I look awesome.  My seat mate offered to take this picture.  You know you’re a blogger when you feel like you should post awful pictures of yourself because they help tell the story.

It is a long way from St Louis to Paris.  (Not as long as it is from Paris to St Louis, but that’s a different story.)  I knew I needed to sleep as much as possible on the plane because I was arriving in Paris at 9 am and then needed to stay awake as much as possible.  The plan was to take the train to the hotel and meet Chris there in the afternoon after the orchestra arrived (around 3:30 or 4 pm). 

I arrived in Paris basically on time, collected my suitcase, went through passport control, and went to find the train station.  The hotel had given me information on how to get to the hotel:  take the RER to the metro and then the hotel was within 100 yards.  I was terrified of this but figured since we were planning to take the metro all week I should go ahead and figure out the system. 

A friend had given me this map of the metro and train systems in advance and I’d been studying it. 

It ended up being easy enough—the hard part was lugging my suitcase through the stations.  The most annoying part was waiting in line for the ticket.  Later I found out I could have used cash in the machine—you can’t use American credit cards in the machines, but I didn’t realize you COULD use cash and I already had euros.  Basically I waited in line for 30 minutes for no real reason.  Oh well!

I chatted with a woman on the RER who was on a long layover and just taking the train into the city for a few hours.  It turned out that she had a sister that played the cello, went to the University of Akron, and studied with somebody in the Cleveland Orchestra.  Oh, and she used to play the viola. 

Anyway, I managed my transfer to the metro without too much trouble.  I got off at the correct stop, and walked upstairs.  I wasn’t sure where the hotel was exactly, but luckily I was able to see it from the station!  We were staying at Le Meridien Etoile for the first night (the symphony hotel) and then moving to an apartment for the rest of the week.

I’m remembering how terrified and thrilled I was upon arrival.  I had read David Lebowitz’s "The Sweet Life in Paris" and had some ideas of the culture and what to do and what not to do, and was concerned about saying "Bonjour, Madame" to everybody and terrified they would think I was a rude American.  Within a few hours I no longer cared and realized that they absolutely thought I was a rude American and were delighted and amused by my inability to speak French, my complete failure at doing almost everything, and it was completely okay.  But I hadn’t gotten to that point yet, and I was almost too tired to do anything at all. 

I attempted to check into the hotel but the room wasn’t ready yet.  I stored my bag and headed out in search of lunch.

I found some cafe nearby and decided it would do. I got a Kir Royale in honor of my arrival.  I just sat there, looking around, in disbelief that I had finally arrived!

My table was next to a post office box.  I watched several people mail letters.  In a foreign country, sometimes it’s the little day to day differences that are most fascinating.

I don’t even know what I ordered.  I hadn’t finished the Rick Steves book that would bring us such joy and knowledge all week, so I didn’t even know that entrees are appetizers and plats are entrees (which is just SO weird—why do we say entree which is a french word but use it for the wrong course??)—all I knew is, I liked shrimp and salmon so that worked well enough.  After I ate, the waiter asked if I liked it and seemed surprised that I did. (Note that I had my own bread basket.  Everywhere we ate we got a huge bread basket and if you finished it, they would continue to refill it without even asking.  If you wanted water though, you had to beg for it.)

I went back to the hotel after lunch and YES! my room was ready.

 

Time for a short nap.  I figured by the time I woke up Chris would be there.  I slept for about two hours—no sign of Chris.  Finally the phone rang, and it was Chris!  The hotel had gotten confused and he had been trying to figure out what was going on for 20 minutes—evidently they told him the room wasn’t ready yet, so he was wondering where on earth I was, I had been told he could just pick up the key to the room when he arrived and I didn’t need to meet him.  Oh well.  We were both finally in Europe together!  I showered and then we headed out in search of more food.

Croque Mademoiselle.  A very classic french lunch—ham and cheese sandwich with egg.  Croque Monsieur is similar but without the egg.

I was struck right away by how at ease Chris already was in a foreign country.  What was crazy and strange to me was already old hat to him, even though he had just arrived in Paris.  I also appreciated the fact that he just refused to attempt French, figuring he would butcher the language, and just would speak English to everybody, hoping they could understand.  Most often this was the case!

It was funny to me how comfortable he was though—he had been so worried about going to London alone, and then here he was one week later, acting like a world traveler.  It was reassuring, and one of the things we talked about all week was other cities we hope to visit together in the future.  (I want to go back to Rome, and to London, most of all!)

Chris had the Croque Monsieur.  Oh, and I had a Coca-cola Light.  It’s like Diet Coke, but better.  I don’t know if it’s actually better or if it just tastes better because you only get it on vacation in Europe or Mexico, and I don’t care.

I look really weird without eye makeup on, huh?  Whatever.  I may look rough, but I was SO happy!

After our snack it was time to get ready for the concert.  Chris and the SLSO were playing at the Salle Pleyel and I had a ticket for the show.

The Salle Pleyel is the home of the Orchestra du Paris.

My ticket was for behind the orchestra.  I thought this would be a fun and unique way to experience the concert, since we don’t have that option at home.  I ran into some people I knew in the lobby including my friend Valentina.

I look a little better after putting on nicer clothes and some makeup, but those are pretty pronounced eye bags…

Anyway, the concert was wonderful—I loved sitting behind the orchestra as I could see parts of the orchestra better (i.e. I could really watch Chris play) than sitting in front, and the sound was great.  Christian Tezlaff’s Beethoven was gorgeous and daring, and the rest of the concert was enjoyable as well.  The audience seemed to love it all too.  One of the coolest things was that we clapped enough for Tezlaff to play an encore but without a standing ovation.  It was one of those times where we all started clapping together for him to come back, but we never stood up.  I guess standing ovations are an American thing but I sure clapped for a long time.

After the concert there was a reception for the orchestra upstairs.  There was champagne and some treats, including macaroons!

After the reception Chris and I went to a brasserie (again, this was before I knew the difference between a restaurant, a cafe, and a brasserie…and there is a difference) and had wine and cheese.  Serious cheese—this was good stuff!

Then we went back to the hotel and I think I fell asleep approximately 15 seconds after getting into bed.  Chris was now done with the tour and it was time for us to go off on our own and do whatever we wanted for the rest of the week!

 

To be continued…

(a souvenir Chris bought me in England—the Olympic mascot!)