This was a three-night stay in Paris, tacked onto a trip to Prague. By the way, I was the one who posted about lower back pain, a new ailment for me. I'm happy to report that my back held up well throughout both trans-Atlantic flights. Muscle relaxers, wine (don't even think about scolding me!), lots of water, icy hot patches, and getting up and stretching. Oh, and my Swedish pillow! Love that Swedish pillow...
Our Air France flight from Prague arrived on time at about ten o'clock in the morning, and we taxied to our hotel. Fare with tip was about 50 Euro, exactly what we figured. We stayed at the Hotel du Cygne, a little 2-star in a somewhat seedy (relatively speaking, of course) area of the 1st Arrondissement, right behind Les Halles. You know when you see sex shops and tattoo parlors (not that there's anything wrong with that) on your block that you're probably not in the most desirable area of town. We never felt unsafe, mind you, but given the neighborhood, we thought the hotel was overpriced at 99 Euro a night plus 7 Euro for breakfast. I am still looking for the ONE in Paris: inexpensive (100 Euro tops) and nice - on the Right Bank. Sounds like too much to ask, I know, but I know it exists - and this one wasn't it. It was fine, though: cute and clean and a brand-new bathroom which wasn't tiny. The proprietor, Madame Gouge, was very nice, friendly and went out of her way to please, and the croissants and tartines were delicious. But I can't see staying here again while I'm still looking for the ONE.
Anyway, our room was ready, which was great. We half-unpacked since we were only staying for three nights, and then it was time to explore. We wandered aimlessly for awhile, one of my favorite things to do in Paris. It was drizzly: typical November weather. I was craving French onion soup (great soup weather!), so we started checking out menus at various cafes and brasseries and restaurants. We must have looked at five or six menus to no avail. Finally, we found a brasserie on the Place de la Republique, called something like "La Taverne du Republique." We both knew better than to have lunch at one of these places on a main square, but we were hungry and our dogs were barking, so we gave it a shot. The soup was delicious, satisfying, and was exactly what I wanted. I also had a Salad Nicoise, which was pretty good except for the dressing - too mayonnaise-y and too much of it. Tom started with a vegetable puree soup which was very nice. His chicken and fries were just mediocre, though. The chicken was dried out (he said it reminded him of childhood Thanksgiving dinners - how awful!) and the fries were not what you'd expect from France. Lunch, including a pichet of Chinon, cost about $50. Totally not worth it.
After lunch, we went to the Musee du Cluny, the medieval museum in the Latin Quarter. Tom had never been there and I hadn't been there in over ten years. I had forgotten how lovely the "Lady and the Unicorn" tapestries are. They have them displayed in a special room and they are just stunning. While it's not original, I would have to say those were my favorites in the museum, although there was much fascinating art and artifacts. While we were there, an older French man struck up a conversation with me - in French. He said something very interesting: that he had been to the Cluny five times and each time he discovers something new, a new detail. That's what is wonderful about Paris, in general: it always holds a new discovery. Anyway, the French man was delighted when I told him where I was from and said in English, "New Or-LEENZ" like so many Americans, but no New Orleanians, say! Incidentally, I have noticed a different reaction when I tell French people I live in Louisiana rather than New York. I don't think they dislike New Yorkers, but I do think they feel a certain kinship with Louisianians - for obvious reasons, I suppose. Even those who have never been there tell me that it is somewhere that have always wanted to go - and would go to - on a trip to the States. The French man also told me how hot he felt at the museum. Me too! This is a pet peeve of mine. They really do overheat the indoors in Paris. Just another good reason to wear layers. I peeled off several while at the Cluny.
Well, we were shopping for a tapestry on this trip for our bedroom and we checked the Cluny gift shop to no avail. Someone on the Francophile Forum recommended a small boutique across from the Cluny, but we couldn't find it. So onto the Metro and back to the hotel. We made a decision to be frugal for dinner that night. We still had sandwiches leftover from the Prague hotel (made for us to go for breakfast) - and some Czech wine - so we figured we would eat those. We stopped at a little alimentation to pick up some chips to go with the sandwiches (a French brand, of course!) and some Vittel for the room.
First we napped (lots of walking today), then we noshed, then we went out for a walk and some drinks. We walked to the Ile St. Louis. I don't think I've ever been to Paris and not been to the Ile St. Louis. It's one of my favorite places and I love fantasizing about living in one of those grand homes. We stopped at a brasserie for a couple demis and laughed at hearing Barry White once again on this trip (that's all we heard in Prague - him and Whitney Houston - go figure). We also people-watched. A local was outside walking his dog. The dog was long-done with walking, but the man continued his clearly intense conversation on the cell phone. I was convinced he was talking to his mistress, who was not happy he had to cancel plans with her once again. I like to make up stories about complete strangers, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, two half-pints of beer and 8.4 Euro(!) later (about $11!), we left. The expense did not come as a shock for us, but it still hurt! Oh, this little brasserie served peanuts with our drinks. I don't know if this is common now, but it was definitely new to me.
On our way back to the hotel, we saw the light show on the Eiffel Tower and stood on the quai and watched it for awhile. I had been to Paris since the advent of the sparkling lights, but was never in the right place at the right time. It was definitely something to see, but I couldn't decide if I liked it or not. I think not. Just too much. I think La Tour should be sedate and subtle in its splendor, but that's just my opinion.
Back in our room, we finished our wine and called it an early night. By this time, I had a cold, and was doing everything possible to fight it off, including extra sleep and plenty of Cold-Eeze. The thing I love most about Paris is that I feel like I never left. I just pick up right where I left off (in this case, two years ago!). Everything is so familiar: the streets, the metro, the people, the places, the smells, the sounds. Now that Tom has been here four times, he also enjoys doing non-touristy things - like wandering aimlessly. I took a tape recorder on this trip and the last words out of my mouth at the end of this first day were: "I love, love, love Paris."
Since the desk clerk the previous night asked us specifically what time we wanted breakfast, we weren’t sure if it was going to be delivered to our room or not. We waited until about 8:02, and then went downstairs. One of three tables in the small room off the lobby had breakfast on it, so we assumed it was ours and sat down. Since we didn’t get that look, we figured we had done the right thing. We saw no other guests at breakfast during our entire stay and began to joke that we were actually the only guests in the hotel.
What can I say about breakfast? It’s so simple, but I look forward to it on every trip to Paris. Croissants like you can’t get here, delicious bread & butter and good, strong coffee. The perfect way to start a long, busy day in Paris.
We wanted to catch some of the Armistice Day parade on the Champs Elysées, so we left the hotel and walked up the Boulevard Sebastopol to the Rue de Rivoli and hung a right. We did a little window shopping. It was still early, and since it was a holiday and some businesses were closed (or opened later than usual), it was peacefully quiet and I felt like we had the Rue to ourselves. I specifically wanted to walk through the Tuileries since I am writing a short story set mainly there and I wanted to make sure I got the details right.
It was a nice day - brisk and cool – and we took some pictures in the Tuileries, including the staircase that our very own Rocky (danielcjr) ran up during his training run. ;-) We wound our way around the Place de la Concorde and once we got to the Champs Elyseés, we realized some barricades were going to prevent us from going any further. But no matter, we saw some of the paraders and took some pictures. The most amazing sight, though, was the empty Champs Elysées leading up to the Arch de Triomphe and the gargantuan French flag atop it.
We really had no set plans after this. How wonderful to be in Paris and not know what you’ll be doing next! La te dah, what to do, what to do. Well, I did have pages and pages of notes on me of things we could do, so we parked ourselves on a bench and took a look. We decided to retrace just some of the steps of the characters in the movie “Before Sunset” which we both loved.
So it was off to find the Promenade des Plantées, the elevated walkway in the 12th. We took the metro from the Concorde to the Bastille and started walking. It was easy enough to find thanks to someone on this board who mentioned it paralled the Avenue Daumesnil. I loved the promenade: lots of Parisians out and about, jogging, walking their dogs, and playing with their children. I had never been in this area – I love walking around in new places in Paris.
We came down from the Promenade and set out to find the Pure Café. It’s on a small street in the 11th called Rue Jean Mace (this, too, I got from some helpful board member!) and it’s definitely the café in the movie – at least the outside. We wanted to take a picture, but didn’t, since there was scaffolding covering most of the exterior. Dommage! We decided it was possible that they also filmed the interior scene here, but one can never be sure about these things. Anyway, I expected more people to be in there, doing what we were, but there were only a couple regulars at the bar.
We sat down and had a small pitcher of Chinon (a recurring theme on this trip) and people-watched outdoors in this very residential neighborhood. There was a supermarket across the street and we were surprised to see a gentleman wheeling a full-sized shopping cart up the street, to the store.
If you go to the Pure Café, check out the unisex bathroom. Methinks the sink served another bathroom function in another life, but that’s all I’ll say. (I know how fond y’all are of bathrooms and such. ;-))
By now, it was lunchtime and I happened to be craving Indian food. We were clearly in an ethnic neighborhood so I figured we just might luck out and find a restaurant. I was about to ask the waitress at the café if she knew of an Indian restaurant, but Tom told me that would be rude. I didn’t agree since it was a café – of course, they did serve food, so maybe he was right? Since I’m normally the paranoid one, I figured I better listen to him.
We went to the supermarket across the street to pick up some tissue for my red, drippy nose; mouchoirs if you are unfortunate enough to have a cold in Paris and go through so many that you need to buy more. We walked some more and were just about to go to a pizza place when there it was: Restaurant DIP: Indienne.
I believe we were the only tourists in there, although there were French people bringing friends there for the first time next to us. A couple of families were out lunching on the holiday, too.
Thank goodness my cold had not depleted my taste buds, and since I thought they needed some excitement, I ordered the vindaloo – my favorite Indian dish. It was a bit disappointing, not spicy at all. This used to happen to me in restaurants in NYC, too. I think sometimes they just look at you and figure this pale, white girl can’t possibly handle the heat so let’s dumb it down a bit. It was still tasty and the naan was fluffy and warm. Tom got the fixed price menu which included an appetizer, main course and coffee or dessert.
After lunch, we metroed back to our neighborhood, walked around some, and went back to the room to rest for awhile.
We had no plans for dinner that night, but were considering taking our friends from New Orleans recommendation for Brasserie Flo. Harold & Ula (who are 80-ish years old and who we aspire to be like when we grow up! They’re still traveling and going strong!) said they never miss a trip to Flo, it’s one of their favorites, and they always order the choucroute garni. It was about 6:00 when I called the restaurant for a reservation and they had no problem accommodating two people at 8:00 pm that night.
For those of you who haven’t been to Flo, the surrounding area is a tad seedy (just a tad, imo) and the restaurant is pretty much in an alleyway – more like a pedestrian street, I guess. But it gives no indication of what is inside. The room is one of those grand old-time rooms with high ceilings, classical paintings, wooden floors and panels, and lots of brass. There were a lot of tourists here, but from all over (Germany on either side of us), and some French people celebrating some occasion or another. It struck me as a great place to go for a big celebration.
We quickly noticed the gargantuan seafood platters here and got a kick out of watching diners tackle them. I was going to get the Belon oysters that I had been craving for years, but they were 19.50 Euro for six! I just couldn’t do it, so Tom and I both got the fixed price menu for 33.50 Euro.
I started with six oysters from the Brittany coast, small but tasty enough. Tom had the foie gras, which he was forced to share. ;-) It was rich and velvety. He was a bit unhappy with his main course, although I thought it was just fine. I was I could remember what type of fish it was, but he pronounced it “not fishy enough.” It was indeed very subtle and mild, but I found it light and refreshing – a better dish for summer, actually. I had the winner entrée, and perfect for the cold weather: a fricassée of pintade (guinea hen) which came in its own little copper pot and with which the waiter signaled for me to help myself. I did. It was delicious. Moist and tender, with an intense and warming gravy, none of which was left after my bread got to it.
I rarely see ile flottante on menus here in the U.S., so I jumped on it. Tom had a delicious baba au rhum; both good desserts. I should mention the set menu included a half-bottle of wine, which was a pretty good deal, I thought. I was inspired by seeing the French people at lunch drinking a Côtes de Provence, so I thought I would try it. I don’t normally drink pink, but thought it might work with the pintade. As it turned out, the fricassée was screaming for red wine, but the oysters were quite happy with the rosé.
While we were there, we watched a waiter scoop up one of the seafood platters from a party of four. The top level wasn’t even touched and I was horrified to think of all that seafood going to waste. As it turned out, the waiter was simply removing the whole platter from the diner’s view, taking it into the kitchen to remove the lower empty platter, and bringing the remaining platter out so they could easily reach it. He did this with great flourish and it was wonderful to watch.
We also enjoyed watching this cute little (early 20s) French girl, wearing a tank top and jeans, and flirting wildly with the one of the waiters. She sat down toute seule, ate her dinner and seemed to enjoy every bite.
I was really impressed with the service here considering the fact that they seem to rely on the tourist trade – at least somewhat. It was professional, courteous, friendly and far from stuffy. The waiter noticed our “Louisiana Credit Union” credit card and asked if we were from New Orleans. He had never been, but said he would like to go and wanted me to verify that we speak French. Oui, un peu (moreso in Cajun country) but not as much as French people speak English in Paris.
By the end of the meal, my cold had worked its way into my head and my ears, and I was completely stuffed up in one of them. No after dinner drinks tonight! We walked back to our hotel on a cool, crisp night in Paris.
I barely slept last night and really felt the full weight of my cold when I woke up this morning. Although I could hear and my ears were much less clogged, so that was one good thing! I got chocolat at breakfast this morning – it was nothing special. I also didn’t eat much of my breakfast. For those of you who don’t know me, I can pack a lot into this 5’2” body of mine. I mean, I can eat. And I love to eat. So when my appetite is poor, I know I’m really sick.
We saved our least favorite thing to do for our last day in Paris: shop. OK, I guess it’s not so bad shopping in Paris, but for me, there’s nothing more frustrating than setting out to find something specific, and not finding it. In this case, we were looking for a tapestry…some Christmas presents….maybe an ornament…and whatever else might strike our fancies.
We went in search of tapestry store on the Rue des Moulins in the 1st (recommended by Michelle de la Nouvelle Orleans – thanks!) but we got there too early. I was dragging at this point and decided I had missed my morning caffeine. So off to a café we went. We found a good, hole in the wall, little place with lots of regulars – I don’t even know what street it was on, but I bet I could find it.
The charming, 20-something year old French boy (Tom said I was drooling, but I swear I wasn’t!) took our order and came back with a big café crème in a glass mug for me and an espresso for Tom. He had his dog in the café with him – the cutest little Pug I ever did see. I love French dogs. ;-)
At this point, I knew I had a decision to make. Go back to the hotel room and sleep all day, in hopes of feeling better for our big dinner that night. Or push myself and possibly pay for it that evening. I chose the former. You know, I wasn’t even that upset. I have been to Paris many times, I will be back many times, so sleeping one day wasn’t going to kill me. As I said to Tom, this was the first time I ever got sick while on vacation. It took him a millisecond to answer with “You’re lucky,” and he’s right. Besides, I got to stick him with the shopping.
But we did stop off at the Monoprix on the way back to the hotel. It’s my favorite place to pick up little gifts for coworkers, friends and family. I also bought some gloves, a fleur-de-lys ornament and some wine. We got a bottle called “Jaja de Jau”, a syrah which was billed as an everyday table wine and cost only 4.50 Euro. We drank it after we got back to the U.S. and it was just OK. We also got a Chateauneuf du Pape, which I think is my favorite wine in the world. It was about $15. It’s impossible to find one here for under $20. We have yet to drink it.
I took some drugs and got into bed and Tom went off in search of Christmas presents. He did not want the responsibility of choosing a tapestry for our bedroom, which I understand. He was, however, under strict orders to buy me a Christmas present in Paris! When we were here two years ago, we split up one day to go shopping for each other. Come Christmas, I produced his Italian leather wallet bought on the Boulevard St. Germain - and he had nothing for me! Said he couldn’t find anything. Needless to say, the pressure was on this year…
I was awakened by a knock on the door at about 1:30. It was Tom, calling himself the “panini man.” Lunch. I ate half a mozzarella, basil and tomato panini. Again, not much of an appetite. Of course, I also scarfed down half a nutella crèpe, so I suppose I was not deathly ill. ;-)
He also picked me up some eardrops from a nearby pharmacy. It took him about five minutes to explain what he needed to the pharmacist who spoke the best English in the place. Meanwhile, he said they were getting much further speaking French! But he did well. I used them the next day and the day after and they worked like a charm. I went back to sleep and Tom went out to do more shopping, mainly in Les Halles, on the Rue du Rivoli and at les bookinistes.
That evening, we were about to do something I had never done in Paris in all my years of visiting: go to a restaurant a second time. By the way, this does not include the gyro guys in the Latin Quarter where I likely ate once a week while I was a starving college student.
Anyway, the restaurant was La Truffière off the Rue Mouffetard. We had a wonderful, memorable, fairly reasonably priced meal here during our honeymoon trip back in November of 2002. I emailed them about two weeks before for an 8:00 reservation.
We were seated in the vaulted cellar, like last time, with the other Americans. There’s been some discussion about this over the years, and I subscribe to the theory that we’re seated together because the wait staff handling that area speak English well. Anyway, I love the vaulted cellar and really have no desire to sit upstairs. It’s wonderful space: stone walls and ceilings, tile floor, 7 or 8 tables, dimly lit, romantic, quiet, and nicely spaced tables.
The service here was simply sublime, from the little stool they brought over at the beginning of the meal for my purse, to the presentation of my napkin like it was an Academy Award, to the four or five amuses-bouches we received throughout the meal. We started with an aperitif called a Perigourdan, which reminded me a little of sangria. Fruit- infused red wine with a twist of orange peel and the biggest surprise: an ice cube! Good, refreshing, slightly sweet and fruity; a nice aperitif.
Part of the reason we came here again was because it was the best meal we had on our last trip and a great value. I think we spent about $150 or so last time. We knew this could not happen again with the weak dollar, but I also think they raised their prices. It was no longer a steal for a gastronomic meal, but simply fairly priced.
Tom chose a wine that was about 50 Euros (more than we usually spend) and the sommelier strongly encouraged him to get a wine that was 85 Euros. Come on! I can see recommending another wine within one’s price range, but this was a bit much. When Tom resisted, the sommelier walked away in a bit of a huff and I could swear I heard sarcasm when he brought the wine. “Prestige” he said, in English, to which Tom replied, “That’s what the label says!” It *was* on the label, but it just sounded sarcastic to me, although I’m sure it wasn’t. Not to worry, though, we vastly improved our relationship with the sommelier later in the meal. We ended up loving our measly ol’ 50 Euro bottle of wine, by the way. It was a 1998 Coustarelle, a Cahors, and was treated like a fine wine. The sommelier brought over a little table and set it up by our table, decanted the wine, and tasted just a teeny bit himself before pouring some for Tom to taste.
On to the meal. We decided to get the smaller (less choices and less expensive) fixed price menu of 55 Euros. We were served an amuse bouche of red pepper soup with black truffles, followed by an amuse bouche of fromage blanc with salmon in a pesto sauce. Both were so delicate and delicious. I started with rillettes de lievre with foie gras. I love rillettes of anything and of course, the foie gras was amazing. Tom had lentil soup with crawfish, which was also very good. For our main courses, I had a fish called “sandre” which was cooked on its skin (the menu made special note of that) and served with a chestnut and onion puree with lardons. It was wonderful. Tom had duck which he pronounced the best duck he ever had; and he eats quite a bit of duck.
La Truffière has a wonderful cheese cart, which we were treated to last time, when we ordered the (then) more expensive menu and were able to choose our cheeses. On the 55 Euro menu, they select the cheese for you. We expected to get a couple cheeses, which would have been just fine. Instead, they gave us seven each! They were described for us and plated in the order in which one should eat them, which is one of the things I love about the cheese course. It’s a learning experience and you really get the feeling you are participating in a long-standing, special, cultural ritual. The cheeses were all wonderful and so distinctive. We had another amuse bouche after this: a tall thin glass filled with sesame cream and caramel. Oh my.
We decided to take the recommendation of the sommelier for our dessert wine. It was one of the best dessert wines I ever had. Not too sweet. In fact, I never had one quite like this. I expressed this to the sommelier and he was thrilled. He told us it was one of his favorites, and I got the impression he just recently discovered it. Anyway, he was so happy we loved it that he came over with the bottle and topped off our glasses. Very nice. The name of the wine was called “Goutte d’Or” and it was served in a beautiful glass with a tiny opening at the top and a big balloon at the bottom.
Before our desserts arrived, four new pieces of silverware were delivered to the table: a spoon, a knife, a fork and a demi-tasse spoon. Now we were curious. We each got a rectangular glass plate with four different desserts: a gateau with pastry, chocolate and nuts, ice cream, a tall, cylindrical shooter-type of glass filled with some sort of creamy delicacy, and a fruit that we couldn’t identify that looked like a kumquat.
After dessert, Tom had an espresso and I had tea, and with this came more sweets on a little tray, four for each of us. There was a crepe-like little cake, a fabulous, liquidy chocolate truffle, a cookie, and a fruity gel-type of candy. On the tray of white & brown sugar was a bowl of wrapped chocolate-covered cracked coffee beans. It was truly a phenomenal meal.
After dinner, we spoke to the manager (half in English, half in French) who remembered my email because I told him how much we loved the restaurant last time. He could not have been more gracious and pleasant, and spent about five minutes chatting with us. We’ll be back here for sure.
About three and a half hours later, we hopped on the metro and made our transfer just before the last run of the night. It was a beautiful three days in Paris (even sick with a cold) but it was just not enough!
Check out our trip pictures here.