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Exhausting Second-Last Day in Paris: Parc Montsourris, Eiffel Tower, La Defence, Sacre-Coeur, Musee de Louvre

Dec30

December 9, 2016, Friday: Paris

An Exhausting Second-Last Day in Paris—Eiffel Tower, La Defence, Sacre-Coeur and The Louvre

Awaking at Cite-Universitaire to the sound of the tram bell on Boulevarde Jourdan, I showered, dressed and decided to try to find a coffee nearer at hand than the café of the complex (which was a five minute walk away in the adjoining building). The Receptionist on duty, the lovely Morgane, showed me how to use the vending machine and for 65 cents, I got myself a café latte and walked with it and my Pierre Herme croissant Poire William across the street into Parc Montsourris. This venture ticked another item off my To-Do List as I had promised myself that I would try to find the time for a ramble in this park in which I have spent many a lazy hour in past years.

Breakfast in Parc Montsourris:

There are not a lot of visitors in Parc Montsourris at 8.30 am on a late autumn morning. The decidedly nippy weather does not attract too many—and not on a working morning. However, there were a few dog-walkers around, a few energetic joggers and a couple of Asian men doing tai chi exercises! I munched on my croissant and sipped my coffee while my ankles were sniffed by curious dogs. It was great to start the day in this serene fashion as it grew frenzied as it progressed for I was trying too hard to fit in a whole lot of major sights into my second-last day—in order to leave tomorrow free for re-packing and closing shop in my room at Cite-Universitaire.

On the Metro to Climb the Eiffel Tower:

My main aim of the day was to make it to the summit of the Eiffel Tower—another first-time experience for me. Every time I have been to Paris in the past, the serpentine lines have put me off trying to get to the top. Since it was winter, I presumed there’d be fewer tourists and that the wait would be shorter.

I rode the No. 6 metro train towards Charles de Gaulle/L’Etoile and got off at Bir-Hakeim. If the name sounds familiar, it is the spot in Afro-French history notorious for one of the most important French battles ever fought during World War II. There is information about this battle on the platform of the metro station (which is overground).

Viewing the Jewish Memorials of the Velodrome d’Hiver (the Vel d’Hiv):

The metro stop of Bir-Hakeim is where you get off to see the Eiffel Tower. But it is also where the notorious Velodrome d’Hiver once stood. It was a stadium for cycling tournaments and it had once attracted thousands of Parisians to its crowded stands. During World War II, after Paris was occupied by the Nazis and the Jewish purge began, Parisian police began rounding up Jews from the Marais and bussing them to the Vel d’Hiv where they were held for five days with barely any food or water. A number of children and elderly Jews perished here even before they were further bussed to Drancy or Beaune from where they were deported to the concentration camps. I had become aware of the Vel d’Hiv and its association with World War II history after reading the wonderful novel by Tatiana de Rosney called Sarah’s Key—of which a rather wonderful movie has also been made. (It is, in fact, a text in the course I teach on ‘Migration, Marginalization and Partition’ at NYU).

Descending from the metro platform in the elevator to ground level, I asked the staff at the ticket window where I could find the memorials. I had already visited one of them before—it was then a large marble slab crowned with wreaths on the main road. But when I got there this time, I found the entire area cordoned off behind construction partitions. On reading the information available around it, I discovered that a major renovation project is currently on and that the small memorial is going to become a most impressive spot with a visitor center and other such monuments added to it. It will probably be finished in the next couple of years.

However, the ticketing clerk also directed me across the main road to the Quai de Grenelle where another monument to the fallen Jews is to be found. I followed his instructions, crossed the street and found myself in a small strip of garden—rather forlorn at this time of year—with a very large and impressive sculpture at the end of the pathway on the Isle de Grenelle (the third island in Paris about which not many people know. It is the same island that also contains a miniature version of the Statue of Liberty). I walked along the pathway and reached the sculpture which depicts a Jewish family of varied ages sitting in despair around their meagre belongings with little knowledge of the fact that they were being moved towards their deaths. I found the monument deeply moving.

Off to the Eiffel Tower:

Having ticked another item off my To-Do List, I walked quickly for another ten minutes towards the Eiffel Tower. As I had expected, the line was barely there. I reached at about 10.30 and stood in line to get a ticket for about 15 minutes and for another five minutes to get into the high-speed elevators that whisk you to the top for 17 euros. Had I come in the summer, I would have waited in line for at least two hours!

I have to say that I was excited about getting to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I have always loved this monument, the strange vision of Charles Eiffel who thought it okay to create a great wrought-iron tower on the banks of the Seine that would rival every other building in height and prominence.  Its wonderful design fascinates me and I love the decorative work around its various tiers. Going up, however, is altogether another experience and I loved every second of it.

The ride up in the elevator is itself quite chest-heaving for you rise to unbelievable heights so quickly that you are likely to feel a twinge of vertigo—I certainly did—until you adjust to the sudden difference. You will also find your ears popping at the difference in air pressure. There are also stairs, of course, and you can climb up all the way to the top—but I was not built of such stern stuff (at least not after having climbed to the top of Notre-Dame and the Arc de Triomphe on this visit!). When you get off at the first level, you are amazed at the sights you see. Sadly, although there was no rain, the air pollution in Paris had caused a hazy smog to settle over the city. The pictures I got were, therefore, not the best. But as I circumnavigated the city, I saw every monument and could pick it out so clearly: the Dome of Les Invalides Church, the mountain (Montmartre) topped by the Church of Sacre-Coeur, the many bridges over the Seine, etc. There are restaurants and souvenir stores and all sorts of attractions to keep the visitor busy in addition to the thrill of taking pictures or posing for selfies against the backdrop of Baron Haussmann’s glorious city.

When you are done on this floor, you take the elevator again to another level which allows you to climb to the summit. Here you can see the office that Charles Eiffel used when the tower was under construction. It is the same office in which he entertained a visitor in the form of a fellow-inventor Thomas Alva Edison of the USA who used the tower and its height to test his own wireless and radio inventions. The view from this level is even more scintillating for the mountain on which Sacre-Coeur stands is dwarfed. You also can see the Arc de Triomphe very clearly as well as the avenues that radiate from out of it to form a star (the Etoile) after which the entire square (or circle) is named. You can see the island of Grenelle and Lady Liberty holding aloft her torch. You can see the Palais de Chaillot with its lovely classical semi-circular design. You can see the Musee de Quai Blanci designed again by the famed Jean Nouvel only a few blocks away with its interesting glass walls and its lovely landscaped garden. Basically, from this height, you can see everything and you can see it from an entirely novel and quite incredible perspective. So, in every respect, I was completely floored by my first-time rising to the Eiffel Tower’s summit and it was with difficulty that I dragged myself away after using the facilities on the lower level again. It was 12.30 pm by the time I left the premises after taking a few pictures.

Off to La Defence:

Instead of walking towards the metro station at Bir-Hakeim, I decided to cross the river Seine just in front of the Eiffel Tower and walk past the gardens of the Palais de Chaillot towards the metro station at Trocadero. From there, I took the metro to La Defence, a rather longish journey (but free today as a result of Paris’ continued pollution) as I wanted to see the gigantic contemporary arch that has been built there, up close and personal. It was very easy to get there and, basically, all I expected was to see the Arch and to take a few pictures.

What I did not expect to find and what I did see was a huge Christmas Market that had sprouted up in the courtyard that is surrounded by a concrete jungle—for La Defence is similar to London’s Canary Wharf or New York’s Financial District. It is a glass and concrete jungle filled with banks and other financial institutions and surrounded by upscale stores that cater to the heavy-walleted. Naturally, I cannot pass by a Christmas Market without browsing through it and since it was lunch-time, I was fortunate to be offered a lot of tasters—cheese, honey, nougat, sausages. It was lovely to nibble as I had begun to feel hunger pangs. After I had spent about half an hour taking in the sight of all these edible goodies and having passers-by take my picture against the towering arch, I got on to the metro again and set off for my next destination: the Church of Sacre-Coeur at Montmartre.

Visiting Montmartre:

On past visits to Paris, I have thoroughly scoured Montmartre which is rich in artistic history—many Impressionist painters had either made their homes in the area of had hung out here (as Picasso did at the Lapin Agile, a local bar). On this occasion, with less time to linger, I made it quickly out of the metro station at Abbesse (which I always admire for its original Art Nouveau-style arched iron-work at the metro stairwell) and followed signs along Rue Yvonne Le Tac to the funicular train. Indeed, on past visits, I have actually climbed up and down the lovely set of stairs that leads to the top of the mountain. This time, I was content to do it the easier way.

The funicular train, which is ordinarily accessible by a metro ticket, was also free today. Luckily, there were not a lot of people and although one of the trains was out of service (annoying!), the ride to the top did not involve a wait of longer than 20 minutes. They were, however, 20 minutes on my feet—so my fatigue levels were also growing consistently as the day progressed.

Visiting The Church of Sacre-Coeur:

Once I got off the funicular train, I made my way towards the main entrance of the church as that was my first priority. There were lots of people milling around the steps that provide strategic picture ops as the entire city of Paris seems to lie at your feet. I had my own picture taken and then began the ascent to the church entrance.

Mass was going on when I entered the church—so I crept around as quietly as I could, stayed on the last pew and said a prayer. The altar is remarkable for its mosaic work and its lovely sculptures of Christ. There was a crib up already—even though it was only early December. A few minutes later, I was out of the church and making a right out of the exit towards the Place du Tertre.

The Place du Tertre is the biggest attraction of the area. It is a cobbled square in which artists take up residence to paint portraits, do caricatures or present you with pen and ink drawings of your likeness. Through the years, almost all members of our family have had their likeness sketched here and I have framed versions of them in our home in Connecticut. The square is surrounded by restaurants and eateries that spill on to the pavement during the summer in the typical French concept of the café-trottoir. However, in winter the entire atmosphere is different. The large trees have lost their foliage and rise bare towards the skies. There are fewer artists, fewer people and the pavement chairs and tables were nowhere to be seen. I walked around the area and felt somewhat forlorn by its emptiness. There was no reason to linger any longer although the souvenir shops were tempting. A few minutes later, I walked as briskly as I could across the cobbled streets and arrived at the stop for the funicular train from where I made my way down quite easily.

Since there was a Fragonard shop right at the funicular train stop, I popped into it to try to find a particular item I was seeking: a small set of ten perfumes. Alas, it has been discontinued—all they carry now are the ten eau de toilettes (much lighter versions) of their signature fragrances.

Off to the Louvre:

With three major items ticked off my To-Do List for the day, it was only left for me to make a visit to the Musee Louvre. It was about 4.30 pm and I knew that since the museum is open on Fridays until 9.45 pm, I had several hours ahead of me to view its treasures. I have, of course, been to the Louvre several times—and I do have my favorite canvasses to which I say Hello each time I am there. I also adore the building itself—the gorgeous confection of a Palace that the Bourbon kings added to as they multiplied their wealth and their desire for luxury. The galleries themselves are so splendidly decorated that most of the time I am taking in their treasures rather than the stacks of paintings, sculpture and decorative arts that actually make up this diverse and quite overwhelming collection.

Emerging out of the metro through a quite different way this time (underground, through a large upscale mall), I arrived at the base under the marvelous glass triangular canopy created by the Chinese-American architect I.M. Pei. I headed straight for the cloak room, left my bag there, then headed to the ticket office where my Met ID card got me free entry into the museum—a huge bonus! With the museum’s floor plan in my hands, I tried to find my way through the three wings that comprise this humongous space: the Denton, Sully and Richelieu wings.

So here is what I managed to cover on this trip, beginning my wandering at 5.00 pm.

  1. Winged Victory of Samotrace (classical sculpture believed to be figurehead on ship’s prow).
  2. The Borghese Athlete.
  3. The Battle of Romano by Paolo Ucello
  4. Portrait of Grandfather and Grandson by Ghiurlandaio.
  5. The Visitation by Sandro Botticelli
  6. John the Baptist by Leonardo da Vince.
  7. Madonna of the Rocks by L da Vini.
  8. Portrait of Italian Female Aristocrat by L da Vinci
  9. Madonna with St. Anne and Jesus by L da Vinci
  10. Wedding Feast at Cana by Paolo Veroneze
  11. Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci
  12. Odalisque by Titian
  13. Coronation of Napoleon by Jacque-Louis David
  14. Portrait of Female French Aristocrat by J.L David
  15. Murder of Horatio by J.L. David
  16. Rape of the Sabines by J.L. David
  17. Crown of St. Louis (This is a replica). I adore the gallery in which this is displayed as it is stacked with portraits of French worthies from the Baroque period.
  18. Crown of Josephine
  19. Michelangelo Showing the Pope his Plan for St. Peter’s Basilica.
  20. The Seated Scribe
  21. Venus da Milo
  22. One of the Parthenon Marbles
  23. Dying Slave by Michelangelo
  24. Liberty Leading the People by Delacroix
  25. Raft of the Medusa by Gericault
  26. Two Sisters Readings by Renoir
  27. The Astronomer by Vermeer
  28. Lace Maker by Vermeer
  29. Lute Player by Franz Hals
  30. Self-Portrait by Rembrandt
  31. Bathsheba by Rembrand

Needless to say, in addition to seeing all these highlights and more, I took loads of pictures of the interiors, especially the ceilings as their decoration is quite lavish. Also as darkness fell over the city, the Louvre was illuminated with the loveliest, softest lighting, I took many pictures of the courtyards of the Palace of the Louvre—but none did justice to their beauty.

I was ready to collapse with fatigue by the time I finished at 8. 30 pm. I also had the good fortune of meeting an Indian art scholar called Usha Sharma who told me that she teaches courses on Indian Art in Paris. I hastened out of the museum and took the metro to get myself back to my place where I reached at 9.30 and went straight to bed.

My second-last day in Paris had been chocobloc—but what a blast I had! As it turned out, every item of my To-Do and To-Taste List had been covered! I could pay myself on the back as I fell asleep for tomorrow, all I have to do is pack and clear up his room and check out.

A demain…

 

 

Footloose in Montmartre & the Museum of Romantic Life

Jun29

Friday, June 29, 2012
Paris, France

Bonjour!

Did you know that there actually exists in Paris a street called Rue de Putterie (Street of Prostitution)? Did you realize that the can can dance was the most daring form of eroticism in 19th century France although it was performed by women wearing full-length gowns?

But, as usual, I am getting ahead of myself in wanting to share all the discoveries we made on our walk around Pigalle and Montmartre today. So let me begin at the beginning…

I awoke to the coolness of a summer breeze tugging at the curtains at our bedroom window. The temperature had changed dramatically and the heat and humidity of last night were just a bad memory. Realizing that Llew is still jetlagged, I closed the windows, pulled the curtains down to bring darkness back into the room and left so as not to disturb him. I caught up with email and got breakfast organized by the time my new friend Joyce called to invite us to her place in Chamborcy for dinner tomorrow. I accepted with delight and we made plans for her to get one of her Paris-based friends to pick and drop us back. How kind of her! Vraiment tres gentile!

Llew awoke to the sound of the telephone ringing and actually joined me for breakfast: we ate fromage blanc (literally white cheese, but really a thickish plain yogurt, like Greek yogurt) with Jordan’s muesli, then Poilane’s Pain Aux Noix with Fig Jam and Praline Spread. I love these Continental preserves and wish I could taste a lot more of them before we leave from here. Coffee went down a treat before I left Llew to get ready and went across to Thomas at the office to get something urgent printed, scanned and emailed.

Alas, the office does not have a scanner; but the lady there was kind enough to print my stuff. I signed it and decided to put it in snail mail to NYU in New York, which meant we’d need to find a poste (post office). By the time I returned to my apartment, Llew was ready to leave and off we went.

Exploring The Museum of Romantic Life:
The RER train took us to Gare Du Nord from where we intended to take Line 2 to Blanche. But that’s when our journey went awry. The 2 no longer stops at Gare du Nord–so we had to take the 4 for one station (Barbes) where we discovered that a train had broken down. All of humanity seemed to spill out of the disabled train and on to the platform. When the replacement train arrived, that same humanity fought to get in–it was packed to capacity as it pulled out. Fortunately, we traveled in it for just 2 stations. With relief, we got off at Blanche and made our way to Rue Chaptal to the Musee de la Vie Romantique (the Museum of Romantic Life) which was a recommendation of my NEH colleague Noit who teaches Art History at Tufts University.

The museum was a good 10 minutes’ walk away (and probably closer to Pigalle metro station than Blanche).  Entry to it is free and we were very pleased indeed to lose ourselves in a 19th century home in which normally-endowed (meaning middle-class) people lived (as opposed to the over-the-top opulent mansion-museums that I have been exploring over the past few weeks). You enter the main door through a delightful cobbled courtyard garden that was simply full of tall colorful hollyhocks, roses and other profuse summer blooms. In the little garden at the side is a tea room and restaurant whose focal point is a glass conservatory. The museum complex consists of two more buildings where special art exhibitions are held (for which there is an extra charge).

The home belonged to the artist Ary Scheffer who was born in Holland but together with his brothers (Les Trois Freres after which another road is named), made Paris his home. Through their impressive aristocratic connections and marriages, the family was related to Aurore de Saxe (who is better known in literary history as the French writer and painter, George Sand). She took on the pen name in order to be able to share her revolutionary ideas without the censure which, in that epoch, was reserved for women (in the same way that the English writer Mary Ann Evans took on the pen name George Eliot during the same era). George Sand became romantically involved with the classical French composer, Chopin (who was born Polish but made France his home). Together, they created a domestic environment in which artists, thinkers, writers, poets and musicians shared their ideas, thoughts and creative energy.

The first floor of the museum is devoted to the memorabilia collected by George Sand: personal pieces of jewelery gifted to her that she wore all her life, snuff boxes (of her royal relations that she inherited), hair ornaments, etc. there are busts and plaster casts of faces and hands, some sculpture and a few paintings by friends and colleagues of Scheffer. It is a lovely capsule of 19th century life embodied by the pursuit of all things romantic, meaning heartfelt. The best part of exploring this floor was listening to the piano compositions of Chopin that followed us around as we moved–a truly charming touch.

On the second floor were a large number of portraits by Scheffer who had received commissions from members of the European royal families such as the Portuguese who were familiar with his work. They are lovely, subtle, very pleasing representations of aristocratic women in formal garb and they present a very intimate sense of life at the end of the 19th century. Although the museum is very small, it is deeply absorbing and certainly worth a visit. For devotees of Chopin and George Sand, it is a great place of pilgrimage. For me, the most interesting part of the visit was learning that apart from being a novelist and memoirist, Sand was a talented and passionate artist herself. The large number of water colors on which she experimented  is a wonderful testimony to the varied artistic streams of creativity she pursued during her lifetime and her deep committment to them.

Footloose and Fancy Free in Montmartre:
Leaving the Museum behind us, we found our way to Pigalle metro station to begin our exploration on foot of a quartier that is rich in findings for anyone interested in probing beaneath the touristic surface of Paris to find concealed gems. Pigalle and Montmatre have historically been associated with two things: Sex and Art (and remotely, a third–Religion; for the martyr St. Denis had his head chopped off here and walked with it to a nearby fountain where he washed it!).

We used DK Eyewitness Guide’s ’90 Minute Walk in Montmartre’ to get us started and I should tell you that when we finished, it was four hours later! The walk took us mainly to the homes of the renowned artists of the Impressionist and Post-Impressionst era who, in those days, had barely two sou to rub together and could, therefore, only live outside the city limits of Paris. Montmartre was separated from the city of Paris by a wall that ran all around it. Those residing outside the wall paid no tax and since the artists were of the proverbial starving variety, Montmartre was the only place within nodding distance of Paris that they could afford.

Suffused with the Spirit of Toulouse-Lautrec:
Hence, we stared our walk at a spot where most of the cabarets, musical revues and dancing halls were located. And if there are provocative dancing girls and music, prostitituion cannot be far behind. So, these joints blossomed into the city’s red-light district. But for the fact that celebrated artists such as Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec were fascinated by the women who entertained at these places and the men who owned the clubs and directed their acts, Pigalle would have remained just another sleazy part of a chic European city. But Toulouse-Lautrec immortalized these characters in the poster art he produced in which they were presented not just as provocative but happy, their fur flying but never in anger. Today most of those halls have been converted into movie theaters or cheap cabaret clubs offering peep shows and kinky sex to please voyeurs. It was among these that we found the building with the ornate exterior in which Van Gogh had once lived with his brother Theo on Rue Victor Masse. We also saw the original facades of the buildings in which Le Chat Noir was composed and presented–an event that gave rise to Toulouse-Lautrec’s most famous portrait of a black cat!

The Village of Montmartre:
On this walk there were steep hills to climb and cobble stones to stumble over. We couldn’t hurry: there was too much to see and savor. Once you leave Pigalle behind and start ascending the narrow stairways cut into the Butte (hill) towards Montmartre (literally the Mountain of Martyrs), you have also left the solidity and grandeur of Paris behind and entered the world of a little village. The streets get narrower and more charming, the French windows open out on to balconies spilling over with window boxes, there are original gas lights around every corner–this area is similar to Hampstead in London. It oozes with charm. It simply forces you to slacken your pace and look about you with eager, observant eyes at every architectural detail.

We arrived at Place Abbess (once actually the site of an Abbey) with its lovely Hector Guimard-designed Art Nouveau Metropolitan entrance with its full glass canopy (what a pity that these are fast diappearing) and its large and very gaudy carousel. We had our home made sandwich lunches in this busy square, enjoying the deliciousness of brie and smoked salmon in crusty baguettes and thinking how great they tasted and wondering why sandwiches do not taste as good anywhere else.

 We entered the Church of St. Jean the Evangelist with its typically Byzantine brick exterior and very unusual interior decoration (which actually made me wonder whether it was a Catholic church at all). On a neighboring side street, we saw the home in which the Pointillist artist Georges Seurat lived. Not too far away is the Bateau-Lavoir, a sort of community atelier where a number of struggling artists produced their work in circumstances of horrible deprivation (among them Picasso and Vuillard).

And then we were at the famous Place du Tertre, perhaps Paris’ most tourist-frequented venue outside of the Eiffel Tower. We recalled La Mere Catherine, the restaurant in which Llew and I have eaten many a pleasant meal on visits past in a venue once frequented by Russian sailors who demanded that their plats be brought to the table, “Bistro, Bistro” (Quickly! Quickly”) And thus was born the name of the small French eatery which provides inexpensive meals! (Or so the story goes). We saw the many cartoonists drawing representations of eager visitors (we had once had our portraits drawn too with the same enthusiasm). This part of our walk was crowded but we thrive on the energy of fellow-travelers and we loved every minute.

Inside the Church of Sacre-Coeur:
A few steps away were steps leading to the city’s second most dominant feature: the domes of the Church of Sacred-Coeur de Montmatre. It is simply a brilliant concoction of towers, turrets, domes, equestrian statues (of Joan of Art and St. Louis) in light grey that overlooks the sharply etched steps that go down the Butte. And its steps offer stunning views of the entire city of Paris which I now know well enough to be able to point out its landmarks: Here is the Pantheon, there the Church of St. Suplice and at the right is the unmistakeable gold of Dome Church at Les Invalides. At night, Montmatre must have a magical appearance as, I am certain, the gas lights must cast romantic shadows everywhere. (Note to Self: Make a trip to Montmatre after night has fallen on the city).

Inside, the church is dominated by a Byzantine mosaic of Christ that overlooks the large number of visitors. There are other interesting features to make a detailed study of the chapels worthwhile. We, however, did not linger too long.

Cabaret Halls Galore:
Leaving the church behind, we continued down the hill to see the only remaining vineyard on Montnartre at a corner where another landmark makes its presence felt: the Lapin Agile, another cabaret house which still presents performances. Picasso and other artists used to hang out here–which led the actor Steve Martin to write a play very recently entitled Picasso at the Lapin Agile. And then we walked further down to arrive at the famed Moulin de la Galette, made immortal by Renoir in his paintings of the venue (to be seen at the Musee d’Orsay). The venue, still a very chic restaurant, gets its name from the many mills in the area that used to grind wheat and grapes for wine–hence, moulin which is French for windmill.

As we neared the end of our walk, we saw the home of Dadaist artists and members of the Cubist movement and finally we reached the end of Rue Lepic where Van Gogh and brother Theo had lived in yet another building. What is remarkable is that so little has changed about these buildings (at least from the outside), that one seems to be walking in another century. While at the door, one expects Vincent to walk out, smoking his pipe, his ear in a crummy bandage for he cut it off when one of the prostitutes of Pigalle snubbed his overtures!

Our walk reached its conclusion at the infamous Moulin Rouge–literally, the red windmill which sports its original 19th century sails. Of course, reveus are still performed here today and the ambience is not too different from that presented by Baz Lurhman in his film of the same name starring Nicole Kidman.

Yes, our walk did take four whole hours and we were very tired at the end of it. We decided to take the metro back home and get some errands done (phone to be topped up, baguette to be bought for dinner, etc) On our way from the stores, we walked through the second half of Cite-Universitaire that we had not explored before and saw many more interesting buildings representing a number of countries. Llew thought it was a simply brilliant concept and again, we remarked on how fortunate I am to make such a place my home for such a protracted length of time.

Dinner a Deux:
It was time to rustle up a salad with tomatoes, mozarella, lettuce and balsamic vinaigrette, ham-stuffed tortelline in a tomato cream sauce with hazelnut-chocolate mousse for dessert–all of which were just delicious. Llew was glued to the TV watching Wimbledon matches while I busied myself with chores (laundry, downloading pictures, etc.) before showering and going to bed.

Llew remarked that it was an amazingly enlightening day. And I told him that all my days in Paris have been identical. It is my greatest joy to scratch beneath the tourist surface and uncover the secrets that cities hide so deeply. Long may such foraging continue!

A demain!