How I Spent My Winter Break

 

  I wouldn't normally think of going to Paris in winter. But our granddaughter had convinced her father to take her to Paris to celebrate her twelfth birthday. It didn’t take much convincing. Joe had enjoyed his travels in Paris and told his kids stories about his adventures. Isla and her nine year old brother Nash were especially fascinated by the catacombs where Paris had buried her dead for a couple of hundred years when the aboveground cemeteries were full.

  Isla's birthday is February 21 so we planned to arrive there February 17 and fly home on Sunday the 22. Joe, Isla and Nash would fly from Boston and we'd meet at an Airbnb apartment near the Bastille monument.

   Due to flight delays we ended up missing our first day in Paris. Joe and the kids arrived on time, dropped their bags at the apartment and enjoyed a sunny day walking around the neighborhood and riding the subway or métro as it's called. When we arrived Wednesday morning the apartment had a lived-in look and everyone was ready to hit the métro.

   It was cool and rainy that morning. We were boycotting the Louvre because the museum had just started charging an extra 45% for non-European Union citizens. We would go instead to the nearby Musée d'Orsay which was reasonably priced and was chock full of masterpieces.

   Lots of other people had the same idea because there was a long line at the museum. Fortunately we had umbrellas. We guessed it would be an hour's wait so I volunteered to take the kids to a nearby cozy cafe for hot chocolate. Joe texted when he and Teresa were near the entrance and we got back in line.

   The museum is in what had been an ornate 19th century train station. The 20th century didn't want it so it was slated for demolition, to be replaced by a hotel. The preservationists got active and in 1986, after refurbishment, it opened as a museum. The place was beautiful but I was looking at it through the fog of jet lag. There's a Renoir, or is it a Monet. There's a Monet. Better check the label. The Van Gogh I can always tell. I could not conjure my usual art thrill reaction.

I should have stayed home today.

   After the museum I was able to appreciate lunch at the cafe. The French like kids and the waiters were extra nice to us. Indeed for our whole visit everyone we met, waiters, shop keepers, ordinary people were great. They were ruining the French reputation for snootiness.

   The rain let up to a light drizzle as we walked along the Seine River. Teresa directed us to the oldest art supply store in Paris. It's been in business since 1887. The narrow corridors of the three floors were crammed with many thousands of brushes and every other kind of art supply. The artists now hanging at the world's museums had gotten their paint here. The kids stocked up on art supplies.

   Our route home took us by Notre Dame which has been mostly repaired from the great fire of 2019. There was a long line to get in which we skipped and got crepes instead. Lots of cafes have outdoor crepe griddles which are kept busy by hungry tourists. Isla makes crepes herself at home and said the Parisian crepes were up to her standards.

  Next day was market day. We wandered around the outdoor Bastille market around the corner from the apartment. We bought some fruits and vegetables and other items. There were some bargains and some things that might be better deals elsewhere. It would take time to learn the best places to buy. There were fish, cheese and meat vendors. I watched a butcher cut up a rabbit while his customer waited.

   After dropping our purchases at the apartment, we took the métro to Bon Marché, one of the big department stores. I'm usually not a department store fan but Bon Marché had lots of interesting displays and installations. There was a separate building devoted to food and kitchen ware. There were also several  specialized eateries in the store but they were all crowded so we found a cafe across the street. 

Mirrors and glass at Bon Marché

   Teresa needed a yarn store and Li'l Weasel fit the bill. When we travel, Teresa always buys a few skiens of local yarn so when she sells her baby sweaters at the Bead Gypsy she can say the yarn came from this or that exotic locale. It adds cachet. Teresa's final must-see was a thrift store. We discovered they're called fripperies in Paris and there are a bunch of them in the funky Marais area. When the emperor was rebuilding Paris in the nineteenth century and filling it full of wide boulevards, he ran out of money when he reached the Marais so the smaller buildings and narrow streets remain. Teresa found a couple of good buys there and at some point said "non" to more fripperies and we walked home.

   Next day we lined up a timed entry slot for 1:30 to Notre Dame to avoid a long wait in line. Entry was free but a contribution would be appreciated. It cost almost a billion dollars to restore the cathedral to its former glory and every little bit helps. 

   In the morning we rode the métro to Montmartre on the north side of the city, the location of the iconic Sacre Coeur Basilica. This is also the area where Picasso and his friends found cheap lodging while creating their masterpieces. 

   We took the funicular cable car to the top of Montmartre and wandered around the plaza where artists do portraits of the tourists and sell their paintings of Paris. The basilica of Sacre Coeur sits a bit further up the hill. There was a long line to get in so we contented ourselves with the view of the city and watching the men selling souvenirs from blankets in the area in front of the basilica. They were selling little Eiffel Towers that twinkled like the real thing. They also sold locks to lovers. I watched a couple buy a lock and attach it to a fence. They moved off without a hug and a kiss. Maybe they felt too exposed.

Paris icon

   We jumped on the métro and headed to Notre Dame. The métro is an efficient way to get around. There are 16 interconnecting lines with 300 stations and over 150 miles of track. If we missed a train, another one came along in two or three minutes. We were among the four million daily passengers. We had figured out how to buy our passes at the station. Everything is done electronically. We got checked a few times by inspectors. We saw a few people slipping through the barriers and they would be heavily fined if caught without a ticket. A barefoot homeless man was allowed to pass by the inspectors. They knew they could never collect a fine from someone mumbling to himself.

Riding the rails 

   We were an hour early for our admission to  Notre Dame so we went to a cafe for crepes to kill time. I was amused to watch a burly man in a helmet and work gear come in and order lunch to-go for his workmates. As he waited at the bar, he sipped a brandy. It was a nippy day outside.

   The area in front of Notre Dame was swarming with tourists. We took pictures of a couple with their phone with the cathedral behind them and they returned the favor. We showed our QR entry code and entered the busy cathedral. There were signs requesting quiet so people could pray. The signs were ignored. Every few minutes a shushing machine emitted a long Shhhhhhhh! followed by an ethereal "Silence". This too was ignored. Tourists by definition are noisy.  

A prayer for silence 

   It took five years and 2,000 workers to restore Notre Dame after the fire. The fire was mainly in the roof. The cause they think was from plugging in too many things to a single outlet. Or it might have been  a cigarette. Anyway, it took 1,000 oak trees to redo the roof. It had originally taken almost two hundred years to complete Notre Dame. That was with no power tools. The inside has been cleaned to its original brightness. The beautiful stained glass windows and most of the interior relics and decorations were not damaged in the fire.

   We made our contributions by purchasing commemorative coins from the machines located around the building. Afterwards Joe and Nash went to the Natural History Museum and Teresa, Isla and I hiked the mile and a half back to the apartment. We walked slowly, taking in the sights. I believe Isla had a crepe at some point.

  Friday is pizza night at home. Our place had stovetop burners but no oven so we had to resort to take-out from an Italian cafe down the street. It was definitely up to my standards.  Why would you cook at all if you lived in Paris? Well, maybe the occasional rabbit.

   We discovered the catacombs which had inspired this trip were closed for repairs. The Eiffel Tower would have to stand in for the bones. When Joe had ordered tickets before the trip, the elevator to the top was sold out. He should have ordered tickets months in advance he was told. So he bought tickets to walk up to the second level. These were the cheapest tickets, but I was not looking forward to walking up 674 steps. Oh well. It's for the grandkids.  

    Well before entry to the tower, we arrived at the plaza recommended for photos of ourselves with the tower in the background. When we started taking pics, a guy selling little Eiffel Towers took over our photo session. It was crazy. This stranger took Joe's phone and was posing the kids the way he wanted as he clicked away. He was hilarious and he took perfect photos. We kept trying to give him a few euros, but he'd brush us off. "No cash, no cash." When he was done he set down two of his mini-towers for purchase. We gave him what he asked for them. It was more than worth it.

Le poseur

   When we reached the base of the tower we discovered elevator tickets to the top were available so we forgot about our 674 step tickets and rode to the top in comfort. After the tower, Joe wanted a get a special meal for Isla's birthday, so he had made a reservation for lunch at La Coupole, "a renowned restaurant celebrated for its historic Art Deco decor, and elegant ambiance," according to Trip Advisor. Well, La Coupole was all that. We sat in our cushy banquette and perused the menu. Joe already knew he wanted to get the specialty of the house: the fresh seafood platter. It was quite expensive but the kids love seafood and agreed this would be the only thing we got. The platter was beautiful, elegant, luxurious. But luxury is an acquired taste and the kids were not up to the gnarly sea snails and raw oysters. Fortunately, I had ordered steamed mussels which came with fries. The kids had those and the rolls. I didn't feel too bad for them since they had already had two crepes that morning. Teresa had Caesar salad, sans anchovies.

Please pass the fries.

   The last treat of the day was to be a show at the puppet theatre in the Jardin du Luxembourg. But the theatre was closed. When we had looked it up on the website it appeared to be open.  We didn’t see the fine print at the bottom: fermé, closed.

   As we continued on through the Jardin we came to the large concrete pool where people sail little boats. I assumed people brought their own boats from home, but there was a place to rent a sailboat and a long stick to push the boat back into the pool when the boat sailed back to the edge of the pool.  The boats had flags from different countries to tell them apart. Nash spent a happy half hour sailing.

The good ship Nederland

   We had now seen most of Paris's icons. Joe and the kids took the métro back to the apartment while Teresa and I had a last walk along the busy streets. We passed Notre Dame again, crossed the Seine, passed City Hall and walked along the border of the Marais. We were now flaneurs. A flaneur is a stroller, a saunterer,...even a loafer. But we had no time for loafing. We had to get back to the apartment and pack for our flight tomorrow, so we hopped on the métro for one last ride to Station Bastille.