Lovely photos! Makes me want to go back right now. Can't wait to hear about the rest of your trip.

Could you tell me more about your apartment rental when you have a chance? My friend and I would love to go back and I'm thinking an apartment rental instead of a hotel would be better. It looks cozy. Was is just a single person apartment or is it a two bed apartment? would you rent from them again, that sort of thing?

You're off to a wonderful start, Nikki.

I guess I'm not the only one who imagines everything that could possibly go wrong before I leave home!

Looking forward to the rest.

Anselm

Nikki, I found your link to the apartment on another of your posts. However, I'm still curious as to how you liked it. It says it sleeps up to 4, so I'm assuming it must have a sofa bed.

Still looking forward to more of your report.

Yes, anxious for more, especially food. We leave on Tuesday. Can't wait.

Hi Nikki,
Thanks for letting me travel vicarously with you. What's up with AirFrance and Boston? I feel like we are the poor relations. Does anyone else fly direct to CDG? I hate to back track since Boston is one of the closest airports to Europe. Looking forward to the rest of the trip.

The apartment is just right for us. It is listed at http://www.vrbo.com/24464. It has one bedroom with a queen-size bed. There is also a sleep sofa in the living room. There are high ceilings with beautiful plaster work, and windows from floor to ceiling let in lots of light. Off the kitchen, there is a small terrace. I would happily return.

Carol and I admire the apartment, put our things down, and head out in search of breakfast, or lunch, or whatever meal our body clocks can assimilate. We walk to the Café Sully just a couple blocks away on the Boulevard Henri IV. There the waitress says, “Je vous écoute.” We order omelets and grin at our good fortune.

After eating, we walk across the Pont de Sully to the Ile St. Louis. We stop and buy cheese and bread for the apartment and wander into some of the small shops along the rue St. Louis en l’Ile. In the Pylones store I buy some colorful kitchen gadgets for my mother, who collects such things. We make our way to Notre Dame and go inside. We hear singing and follow the sound to the front of the cathedral but determine that the music is a recording. At least we think it is; I suppose an entire choir could have been hiding in a large nook or cranny in such a vast space, but we don’t see one.

At this point I am fading fast. Time to make our way back to the apartment. We cross over to the left bank, walk to the Boulevard Saint Germain, and catch the bus, which lets us off in front of the café where we had our lunch.

Back in the apartment we take naps, settle in, review our plans, and make reservations for dinner at Le Pamphlet, at 38 rue Debelleyme in the third arrondissement, telephone 01 42 72 39 24. I had eaten here five years ago and loved it and have wanted to return ever since. Once again, I think it is a great bargain. There is a three course menu for 35 euros, if I remember correctly. I have some kind of pate with foie gras, then a dish that I remember being described as something like “a tour around the roast pig”, with several small pieces of different preparations of pork and sausage. There are complimentary dishes presented between courses. My note taking takes a back seat to my enjoyment of the meal, so sadly I can not give thorough or accurate descriptions, but this restaurant is every bit as wonderful as I remember.

Thursday comes, and it is Carol’s birthday, as well as the first day of Spring. I am really looking forward to our first activity, a class at the Collège de France in the Latin Quarter, next to the Sorbonne. This is a possibility I encountered while looking for podcasts to listen to. I was told that there were college courses and lectures that could be downloaded onto an iPod, and I had gone on a search for such things, coming up with, among others, some courses from the Collège de France. Podcasts can be downloaded from the website, http://www.college-de-france.fr/default/EN/all/pub_pod/index.htm.

Out of curiosity, I downloaded some lectures to see if I would understand the French. I was greatly pleased to find that I did. I had been listening for some time to a wonderful lecture about literature before I realized by looking at the professor’s name that he was English. I figured that explained why he was speaking more slowly than many of the French speakers I had heard, and certainly more slowly than the French movies that I can not understand without subtitles. I had some vague idea that listening to an Englishman give a lecture in French was cheating. I looked at his biography on the Collège de France web site and did an internet search and learned that the lecturer, Michael Edwards, had been nominated to the Académie Française, the organization charged with the task of maintaining the integrity of the French language. So I figured if he was good enough for them, he was good enough for me.

I became thoroughly engrossed in the lectures, listening to several at home, finding the works discussed in the lectures, reading and analyzing them. And then it occurred to me that I could attend a class in Paris. The schedule is on the Collège de France website, and I saw that Michael Edwards was giving the class that I had been following on podcast on Thursdays at 11:30. According to the website, classes are all free and open to the public, no registration required. I mentioned the idea to Carol, who was intrigued and said she would be interested in going with me. I was glad for that, since I might not have gone alone, not knowing how comfortable an environment it would turn out to be.

So Thursday morning we take the bus to the Collège de France. We find the lecture hall, which is a large, modern classroom. There is a class in progress, so we wait in the lobby. There is a table with copies of the two poems that will be discussed in the lecture, so we read them and try to work out the vocabulary while we wait. I am relieved to see that there are many people our age (mid-fifties) and older in the classroom. As people start to trickle in for the next class, several come up to me and ask me questions, since I’m seated on a bench at the entrance to the classroom. I hope I am giving them answers that make sense, and in retrospect I don’t think I gave out any faulty information. It becomes clear that many people are doing as we are, and are arriving to hear this one lecture without having attended the previous sessions of the course. This is reassuring.

Carol and I both thoroughly enjoy the class. This is my new favorite thing to do in Paris. The lecturer is wonderful, the audience attentive, the atmosphere comfortable, and I relax knowing that whatever I miss from the lecture I can hear on the podcast when it becomes available.

When the class ends, we take a bus to the Bastille and have crepes for lunch in a café. Then we walk to the Bassin de l’Arsenal, the marina just below the Bastille, for our boat ride up the Canal St. Martin.

This report is so wonderful Nikki and I love your pictures.

The weather forecasts for the whole week are questionable, but the chance of rain today is slightly less than the other days we will be together, so we have picked this day for the canal ride. A description, schedule and prices can be found on the web site: http://www.canauxrama.com/produits/e_fiche5.htm. We find the boat with no problem and sit inside the heated cabin. As the boat starts to move, however, I go outside to the open deck to take photographs. The first part of the trip goes through the tunnel underneath the Place de la Bastille and the Boulevard Richard Lenoir. There are openings in the roof which let in light and through which one can see branches, sky, random pieces of trash. When we emerge from the tunnel in the tenth arrondissement, we enter a series of locks. It takes a while for the water level to rise sufficiently to open the gates from one lock to the next, and during this time the guide tells us about the history of the area and of the canal. It is entertaining and informative, and I enjoy photographing the bridges and the people along the canal. The boat makes its way all the way up to the Parc de la Villette, which appears mostly abandoned on this wintry day.

We take the metro back to the apartment and decide what to do for supper. Carol wants to go to La Coupole for her birthday dinner, so that is what we do. We take a bus to Montparnasse and celebrate with a big platter of cold seafood and share an order of choucroute. The atmosphere is festive but a bit bizarre. Two men in very colorful attire and turbans are circling the dining room dishing out lamb curry to those who order it. We are surrounded by people speaking a variety of languages. Carol declares her birthday a success all around. I am pleased, because she has not been to Paris in over twenty years.

Friday morning we get a late start. Carol goes to the Louvre, but I have decided to skip that for this trip and meet her later at the Musée de l’Orangerie. By the time Carol is up and out of the apartment it is almost lunch time. We will not be having a full dinner later because we have concert tickets at 7:30, so I decide to have lunch at a restaurant near the apartment, Restaurant l’Écume, http://www.imagespro.fr/lecume/index.htm. I order the menu Parisien for around 26 euros. This comes with a great thick steak made from Salers beef (posters for this beef with pictures of cattle grazing line the walls), served with three sauces: bearnaise sauce, pepper sauce, and a sauce made from olive oil and fresh tomatoes. There are pureed potatoes with butter. This is followed by a salad with pine nuts and a large slice of brie.

Ready for a nap after my large meal, instead I walk to the bus stop and make my way to the Musée de l’Orangerie to meet Carol. There is a line outside, and while I wait on it Carol appears. She had a rushed visit at the Louvre and I was glad I hadn’t gone there, but she enjoyed it.

I have been to Paris several times over the past eight years, and this is the first time that the Musée de l’Orangerie has been open. It was under renovation for several years and if I understand correctly, the process was slowed by the discovery of archeological artifacts during the reconstruction and the need to preserve them. This museum was therefore on my short must-see list.

The upper floor of the museum is devoted to Monet’s Nymphéas, the Waterlillies. These are displayed in two skylit oval rooms with benches in the center. One can sit and appreciate the effect of the changing light on the paintings much as Monet must have done while painting the gardens at different times and in different seasons. The lower floor contains a wonderful collection of impressionist and early modern art. We spend about two hours in this museum.

My one visitor tip for this museum has to do with visiting the ladies’ room on the lower floor. The way I learn to turn on the water in the sink is when a very tall man appears behind me and demonstrates the foot pedal on the floor beneath the sink. He is evidently changing the towel (no paper towels here, just a roll of towel in a dispenser) and sees that I need help. Now if you go, you won’t need to wait for him, because you have learned the secret from me.

Thanks to all for taking the time to read and posting the nice comments.

AGM, in addition to Air France, only American Airlines flies nonstop from Boston to Paris, as far as I know. And they only seem to have flights in the summer, and even then not every day. It appears that there are two flights a day on Air France in the summer. But in March, only one flight a day, and only Air France.

Wonderful photos and a wonderful trip report so far!

How interesting to be able to attend a class. That must've been quite the experience.

Wonderful!!!

nice pics...

looking forward to reading more

Thoroughly enjoying your beautifully written report Nikki.
Looking forward to lots more of the same!

Hi Nikki, a great report - thank you! I've just discussed your class with my husband who teaches high school French here in Australia and he is going to attend one when we are in Paris in June! Thank you so much as we would not have known this is a possibility.

CathieS, I have been looking at the schedule of classes in June, and they seem pretty thin on the ground. Make sure you check out the schedule at http://www.college-de-france.fr/default/EN/all/act_agenda/index.jsp to see if there is something your husband would be interested in.

Great report and great pics! We are going in June with our teen daughters. It is our first family european vacation. Paris is our first stop. I love to hear about the different favorite places to visit and eat.
thanks.

I know that a lot of people want a blow-by-blow account of every meal with a mention of each morsel and as many adjectives as possible, but I like your general impressions and just a statement of the cost. I like to go into restaurants and discover unexpected things, not have a list of exactly what to expect.

Anyway -- excellent trip report!

Nikki wrote, "There the waitress says, 'Je vous écoute.' "

Is this a more informal way of saying, "Vous desirez?" Or is the waitress a Dr. Phil fan?

Thanks for all the additional comments; it really helps to know somebody is reading.

Kerouac, I was hoping you'd join us at our get-together, but I guess you prefer to remain a man of mystery.

D claude, I don't know from Dr. Phil. I was thinking Frasier. But I heard a couple of servers say this.

When we leave the Musée de l’Orangerie, we walk through the Tuileries. Our goal is Angelina’s, where we hope to have a light meal before our concert. I have not been there before, but I am hoping for some of the famous hot chocolate. We are discouraged to see a long line outside the door. We do not have a lot of time to spare. We discuss our options, which include going to the area of the concert hall and eating in a café there, but after five minutes or so, the line starts moving quickly, and it appears that the restaurant has opened up a whole new section of seats.

We are seated and are given one menu for the two of us, then after a minute or two a waiter asks if we are ready to order. We are not; I haven’t seen the menu yet. The waiter disappears and it takes a long time to get him back again. We order omelets and hot chocolate for both of us. The waiter comes back with one hot chocolate and disappears again. We have to flag him down to get a second one. Then he comes with the omelets. The table is very small. The waiter puts down my plate in front of me, then he puts down Carol’s plate and walks away as the plate slides off the table and down toward Carol’s lap. She makes a pretty good catch; the omelet is in pieces, but most of it is still on the plate. As she catches it, the plate knocks over her cup of chocolate, which I catch after only a little of it has landed on my omelet. Oh well, it’s all going to the same place, as I used to tell my kids when they didn’t want their foods to touch each other on the plate.

We don’t have time to re-order, and the omelets are pretty good. And Carol doesn’t want her whole cup of chocolate anyway. So we finish up, laughing and figuring we’ll get a lot of mileage out of the story for years to come. We pay but have no problem deciding not to leave a tip. The chocolate, by the way, is wonderful.

We catch a bus to the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, where we have tickets for Bach’s St. Matthew Passion. I had bought the tickets on line at the theater’s web site: http://www.theatrechampselysees.fr/. An usher shows us to our seats and puts her hand out for a tip as we go diving in our purses to find coins. We have great seats in the first row of the Corbeille, the first ring, overlooking the stage in such a way that we can see the conductor’s face. The production is fascinating, using two symmetrical orchestras and choruses on either side of the stage. This is how Bach apparently wrote the work, which I would never have known just from listening to recordings. Carol is familiar with the alto arias, as she is a singer. We both enjoy the music greatly. There is a French translation projected over the stage. Takes me a minute to figure out who Pierre is. I get it now. The man singing the role of Jesus looks as if he has grown his hair for the part. By the end of the concert, we have all grown our hair a little bit, and three and a half hours after we entered the concert hall, we walk out into the damp Paris night, as the Tour Eiffel twinkles in front of us.

Sorry, Nikki, I don't mean to snub you or anybody else here, or even to revel in the concept of being a 'man of mystery'. Get-together plans just become invisible to my eyes because I never expect to be available for such things and almost never am.

Life can be very complicated when taking care of somebody with Alzheimer's, as more than one person here can attest.

Kerouac, I do understand, of course, I was just teasing. I considered touring your neighborhood, by the way, but ran out of time; I passed on my printout of your walk to Tedgale, though, and he did take it.

Nikki.
So glad you have time to write.
I am really enjoying your report.

Love the report, love the apartment! I'm glad complete disaster was averted at Angelina's.

"...we walk out into the damp Paris night, as the Tour Eiffel twinkles in front of us ..."

Wonderful writing, Nikki. What a pleasure to read your report.

AA

I am thoroughly enjoying your trip report. Lovely descriptive images of Paris.

Saturday we get another late start. Carol goes off to explore Montmartre, and we plan to meet at the Musée National du Moyen Age, also known as the Cluny Museum. There is a concert by the early music ensemble Ultréia there at 4 PM, and I want to get there in time to pick up tickets in case they sell out. Under a fairly new experimental policy, admission to the Cluny Museum is free to everyone. Tickets to the concerts are available the day of the concert only at the museum and cost six euros apiece. The schedule is available at the museum’s website: http://www.musee-moyenage.fr/homes/home_id20735_u1l2.htm. The event in question is l’Heure Musicale avec Ultréia, and it takes place on many Fridays at 12:30 and Saturdays at 4:00. I had stumbled onto one of these concerts in a state of jet lag several years ago when my hotel room wasn’t ready, and it turned out to be a highlight of my trip. I had been quite excited to see that there would be a concert while we were in Paris this time, and I want to be sure not to miss it.

When I arrive at the museum, there is no line. I go in and buy two tickets to the concert and am given two free entrance tickets for the museum. Then I leave in search of lunch. I end up at the Brasserie Balzar, just down the block from the museum. I had read about this restaurant in Adam Gopnik’s book “Paris to the Moon”. What I read had actually kept me away from the restaurant on previous visits. It is an old, traditional brasserie, beloved by the local academic types of the neighborhood, that had been purchased by a large chain of Parisian brasseries, and the fear was that it would lose its authenticity, if not its soul. The book describes a meeting at the restaurant in which the patrons were reassured by the new owners that all would remain the same, and that the restaurant would continue to serve the best roast chicken in the world. Since I am alone, and will not be responsible to anyone for selecting the place if it is mediocre, I go in to find out for myself. Lunch turns out to be fairly expensive; everything is a la carte, no lunch menu. I do try the roast chicken, though, and it is quite good.

After lunch I meander in and out of some bookstores, which are plentiful in this neighborhood. It is raining on and off. When it stops raining, I buy a drink from a street vendor and drink it sitting in the garden at the museum. Then I go inside. There is a line to enter now, but I hold up my ticket and walk past it while people glare at me. Since entrance is free, it seems counterintuitive that there is a line for tickets. I wonder whether they are issuing tickets as a way to keep count of the number of visitors during the experimental period of free admission. I also worry that Carol will be held up on line when she arrives, since we had agreed to meet inside the museum.

My first stop inside is the bookstore, where I am pleased to see that Ultréia has recorded a third CD. I already own the previous two. This is the only place I have been able to find them. After adding the new one to my collection, I make my way through the museum, pausing for a while to admire the Lady and the Unicorn tapestries. These are exhibited in a darkened circular space with benches for contemplation. When I reach the entrance to the room where the concert will be held, I speak to a museum employee who tells me that the doors are closed promptly at 4:00, after which nobody is allowed inside. I sit and wait for Carol, hoping she makes it in time.

And so she does. She tells me that there is still a long line, but while she was waiting, a museum employee came and took the people who wanted to come to the concert inside. Good. We go in and take our seats. The concert is delightful. Ultréia consists of two singers, a percussionist, and three string and wind instrumentalists. The instruments are fascinating. There is one long, black, curved instrument that resembles nothing so much as a garden hose, but it appears to be made of wood, and it sounds like a horn. There is a stringed instrument with a crank, which appears from the program to be called a vielle à roux. (Back at home, a book appears to identify it as a medieval hurdy gurdy.) There is one instrument that consists of a wide circular pan on which the percussionist swirls pebbles; the effect is similar to that of a rain stick.

The group performs the songs of medieval troubadours. The program points out that there are no documents recording what type of instrumental accompaniment would be found in the performance of these songs, and that the group has reconstituted the orchestration in order to enhance the emotions of the songs, with no pretension to authenticity. I think it is great stuff. It is quite cold, however, and I regret checking my coat. Carol points out that the concert took place in the frigidarium, part of the old Roman baths. So that would explain it.

After the concert, we leave the museum and go to a café at the Place de la Sorbonne. We sit and talk and drink hot tea to warm up until it is time to go to dinner.

Gosh, Nikki, "great minds" and all that sort of thing. La Coupole and Balzar are both on my list as possible places for my upcoming trips to Paris--La Coupole for decor and the shellfish platter, and Balzar for its history, its mention in the Gopnik book, and because it serves breakfast and early dinner. In many trips to Paris, and even staying at Parc St. Severin practically in it's backyard, I've still never gone to the Cluny. Now you've given me another reason to try again. Thanks for a swell=--and inspiring report. So, will you be going on the Canal St. Martin? That's on my list too and I'd love a report.

Julie, great minds indeed. I did go on the Canal St. Martin; it is described in the section of my report posted above on 04/04 at 7:34 AM. Enjoy your trip!

Hi Nikki, thank for the link, I think you are right and there won't be anything suitable when we are in Paris. Never mind, I'm sure we will have no trouble filling in our days!! I'm so excited I can hardly stand it and we don't leave for another 43 sleeps Loving your report too!!

This is Carol’s last night in Paris, and we have reservations at Au Petit Marguery, in the thirteenth arrondissement at 9 Boulevard du Port-Royal, telephone 01 43 31 58 59. http://petitmarguery.com/. We take the bus to Les Gobelins and go into a small grocery store and bakery for a few things for the apartment before heading into the restaurant. The next day is Easter Sunday, and I am not sure what will be open, so I buy bread and fruit and some smoked salmon and cheese. And oh yes, there is that chocolate pastry too.

I have been to this restaurant before and have looked forward to going back. There is a menu for 30 euros for two courses or 35 euros for three courses. I start with the foie gras maison and go on to have lamb shanks with potato puree and rosemary. Carol orders coq au vin, which is served in a manner I have not seen before: the chicken is removed from the bone, cut and formed into a sort of a cake, and served with tagliatelle. We both finish with a grand marnier soufflé, a house specialty. It is all very good. Then they bring out the cookies.

Sunday morning, Carol leaves for the airport at the crack of dawn. I am all alone in my Paris apartment, nobody to please but myself, basking in the luxury of choice. I realize it would be quite easy and enjoyable to just stay in the apartment, but I force myself to go out to the market at the Boulevard Richard Lenoir to see if it is open on this Easter Sunday morning. It is not only open but bustling. I end up buying far too many strawberries (thought I was buying one container at a good price but it turns out the price was for two) and quite a few avocados (the price was just so good for the whole basket…). By the time I get to the guy selling the gorgeous charcuterie, my bags are getting heavy. I settle for a slice of the pate du lapin and some jambon cru. And oh yes, half a rotisserie chicken and roasted potatoes. Now I’m carrying way too much stuff and I wish I had a wheeled cart that the locals all use for market day. These remind me of my youth in New York and because of that seem anachronistic, but everyone in Paris appears to have them.

Lunch is a feast in the apartment, and after lunch I get ready for my outing to the Comédie Française.

Nikki, I'm embarrassed to say that I completely overlooked your explanation and website reference for the Canal St. Martin cruise. I saw the link and jumped to the conclusion you were taking a seine cruise and skipped over that part on my way to the La Coupole birthday. Thanks for the info. I'm definitely intent on finally doing that this time.

Nikki, this is a wonderful report and I am enjoying it immensely!

I recently spent 2 weeks in Munich,Salzburg and Vienna and, while I had a very nice trip, there is nothing like Paris and I am absolutely in Paris withdrawal reading this.

Your photos are so good, you have a great eye.

lynda

Nikki- this is delightful. Your photos capture Paris perfectly.

Thanks for the continuing interest and nice comments. I'm hoping to get another bit done this evening.

Cathies, even though he can't go to the classes, your husband might enjoy the podcasts. If he is interested in literature, I can recommend the ones by Michael Edwards. So far I have listened to the course "Le bonheur d'etre ici" and the course "La poesie francaise et la recherche de l'etre" and they were both excellent. I am now working my way through Thomas Pavel's course called "Comment ecouter la litterature" and that is also very interesting.

Really enjoying your report, and am jotting down the info relating to where you were staying. The bus nearby, which I assume is the 67, seems very convenient. Can you tell me roughly where all it goes? I don't know the buses so well, and I love to take them. Can you tranfer at major junctions? Also the lecture at the College sounds so intriguing. Never thouht one could do that. How generous the French are ikn sharing their culture. A comment about the Orangerie. We visited on our first trip in 1986, before the D'Orsay opened. It was the major venue for Impressionists then. Nestled in among the Renoirs, I remember a painting by Manet of the Pont Marie. I was so taken because as we were staying on St. Louis we always crossed that pont. I could not believe the timelessness of France, and my great luck to see such iconic paintings. On my upcoming 7th trip, I will marvel at the luck again to see Paris.
Can't wait for more of your report.

I had purchased tickets for the Sunday afternoon performance of Le Misanthrope by Molière on line at the Comédie Française website: http://www.comedie-francaise.fr/dev/index.php. Then, thinking it would be good if I understood what I was hearing, I ordered a copy of the play in French. I sat down with a French-English dictionary and read through the play. This felt like cheating, since when I was taught French in high school we were not allowed to translate. If we looked anything up, it was in the Nouveau Petit Larousse which we all bought through the school. As I went along, however, I came to view it not so much cheating as gaining new perspectives on translation. Or so I told myself. After completing the play in this manner, I ordered a copy of the Richard Wilbur verse translation and read it in English. This really felt like cheating (but it really felt good!) Then I had a final reading with the French version, the English version and the dictionary all in front of me, thinking about how the language had been translated and how the American poet had chosen the words to match the meter of the verse.

By this time, I was getting a pretty good idea of how the play would be performed. As it turns out, I was completely wrong.

On Sunday afternoon I take the métro to the Comédie Française, which is part of the complex at the Palais Royal. As the usher shows me to my seat, I remember my experience at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, and I try to hand her a euro that I had gotten out to have ready when I checked my coat. She waves me off and says, “Non, Madame.” I’m not having much success at learning the rules. Nobody else seems to be making this particular faux pas.

The production is entirely different from my expectations. I was picturing fast-paced, sparkling dialogue. Instead, there are long pauses between speeches, and there is more melodrama than I had imagined in my three readings of the play. I’m wondering whether this is the way Molière is performed customarily or whether this is a departure from tradition. There is a lot of angst on stage. People are exploding with emotion, coming to blows even. Interesting. Despite this, I feel more prepared than I have been to see any play in recent memory, and I am glad for all my study.

The play goes on for three hours or so. I’m thinking that without all the pauses, it would have been two. When I leave the theater, I walk through the gardens of the Palais Royal, which are showing the colors of early spring. It is cold and damp, though, and I am glad to take the métro back to my apartment, where I enjoy a supper made from the provisions I picked up earlier, put my feet up, watch French television, find the radio stations I like, and have a relaxing evening at home.

Monday morning I am still in a pretty relaxed frame of mind. I know it will be a late night, so I am in no hurry to go anywhere. I go out for breakfast but find the nearby cafés are closed, so I go back for breakfast in the apartment. Later I decide to take a walk toward the Viaduc des Arts, an abandoned railroad viaduct that has been transformed into a series of shops selling crafts and home furnishings, topped by a landscaped path, the promenade plantée. Stores are almost all closed in this neighborhood on this Easter Monday. But one shopkeeper tells me that stores are all open in the Marais.

I take a bus to the Marais, where I visit a jewelry store that I liked on a previous visit, Metal Pointu’s. By now it is raining pretty steadily. I try to visit a couple of other stores I wanted to see in the Marais but find them closed, so I give up and take the bus back to the apartment. I have bought a couple pieces of jewelry and visited a new neighborhood, and now it is time to get ready for the get-together planned for this evening with people from the Fodor’s message board.

Sue, the buses I used the most often were the 86 and 87, which were closest to the apartment and which go to the left bank. I did use the 67 bus one time. I spent lots of time studying the bus map. You can find the routes of all the buses at the RATP website, http://metro.ratp.fr/.

You can transfer between buses if you have a ticket that you bought anywhere but on the bus; for some reason, the tickets sold on the bus itself can not be used to transfer.

She waves me off and says, “Non, Madame.” I’m not having much success at learning the rules. Nobody else seems to be making this particular faux pas.

Tipping the ushers is forbidden in national and municipal theatres. It is obligatory in private theatres. In Pariscope, the two types of theatres are clearly separated in the listings: théâtres subventionnés and théâtres privés.

Ah, I learn something new every day. Got it out of the way early today. Thanks, Kerouac.

Monday night I take the bus to the Bistrot du Peintre in the eleventh arrondissement at 116 avenue Ledru-Rollin, telephone 01 47 00 34 39. As I walk in the door, I hear someone call out my name. I feel like I’m entering the bar on “Cheers”. A few people who post on the Fodor’s message board, upon learning we would be in Paris at the same time, have arranged to meet for dinner, conversation, gossip and laughs. I have attended such get-togethers in various places now: Massachusetts, New Jersey, Lisbon, Barcelona and Paris. They have all been a hoot. It is great to put faces to names, especially of people I feel I have gotten to know through the things they write on line. It feels like meeting penpals.

There are eight people at this gathering, and we are shown to a table upstairs at the bustling bistro. I really enjoy my dinner, starting with os a moelle, a long marrow bone slit down the middle, and moving on to duck confit and the wonderful sarladaise potatoes that I remember from visiting the Dordogne. Others at the table all enjoy their dishes as well. A neighboring table of diners does tell us to keep down the ruckus; I guess we are being a little too audibly enthusiastic, but as the room fills the noise level increases until the point is moot. By the end of the evening, we are all old friends, and two of the company come back to check out my apartment and to engage in some more conversation. This is good; with such spacious digs, I’ve been feeling I should have a party.

Nikki,

Enjoyed your Paris report! Thanks for taking the time to write it.

like_2travel

Tuesday is my last day in Paris. I get a late start, knowing I will be out late again this evening at the ballet. I struggle with the decision of whether to go to the Quai Branly museum, which has been on my short list. I don’t want to run out of steam before the day is over, I don’t feel a great desire to go at this moment, and I have decided to go back to the Collège de France for another course this afternoon, so I make the hard choice and skip the museum. If I only had one more day…

I have lunch again at the Restaurant l’Écume, knowing I will have no time for supper. Madame remembers what I had to drink last week and asks if that is what I want. Oui, merci. Two rail-thin men in business suits sit at the table next to me. One of them places his order and is served a very large steak. He looks at it, laughs, says he will have to nap this afternoon, and digs in with a relish I have seldom seen in anyone other than teenage boys, slathering each slice of steak with puréed potatoes. The two women at the table on my other side are far more genteel, but I am surprised to notice that one of them changes her fork from her left to right hand as most Americans do, but as I, a lefty, never have. I never even noticed that other people did this until it was pointed out to me by my high school boyfriend, who said I ate like a European. I am wondering whether this woman, who seems to me to be French, is a dedicated right-hander (is righty a word?) or whether she was brought up in the US. I enjoy my lunch quite a bit, finish up with a lovely warm tarte tatin, and go off to take the bus to St. Germain.

I am heading for the shop of Dona Giacometti at 6 rue St. Sulpice. I bought earrings for my mother there when I was last in Paris two years ago, and I want to buy a pair for a friend. But sadly the tiny shop is closed when I arrive, and my friend will have to wait. I wander into the churches of Saint-Sulpice and Saint-Germain-des-Prés, having never visited either before. After some window shopping and picture taking, I head over to the Collège de France.

I was so happy with the course I attended Thursday that I had checked the schedule to see what other lectures might be interesting while I was on my own. I found a course and a seminar about Proust. OK, I haven’t read any Proust since the last French class I took, as a first year college student, in 1969. But I figure I might absorb something, and it might inspire me to go back and read some more. I get to the lecture hall a half hour before the class begins, and it is practically filled. The web site says that hall has 420 seats, and I estimate that ninety percent of them are filled. There are many more people than there had been for the course I attended the previous week. Almost everyone is reading books or newspapers as they wait. I see many copies of Le Monde.

The lecturer, Antoine Compagnon, is very interesting. I see from his biography on the website that he teaches at Columbia University as well as in Paris. The woman next to me is taking copious notes in a beautiful leather-bound journal. After an hour, the lecture is over and about half the people leave. Then another guest lecturer is introduced. This is the seminar, which apparently consists of a guest lecturer after the main lecture every week. This week the guest lecturer is from Stanford University. I stay and find this very interesting as well.

I leave with a resolve to go back and find that old volume of Proust from college as I catch the bus to the Opéra Garnier.

I purchased tickets to the ballet Caligula on the website http://www.operadeparis.fr/. I read some reviews of this fairly new ballet, which was choreographed by a member of the company of the Paris ballet, and they were not enthusiastic. But I don’t care, it’s interesting to see new dance anywhere, and I am looking forward to the evening.

The ballet is in one act. One review mentioned that the ballet is incomprehensible without the program, so I buy the program and read the part that the program suggests reading before the performance. The ballet is still pretty incomprehensible. There is an orchestra playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and between the seasons there are interludes of pantomime to the accompaniment of recorded electronic music. The orchestra is conducted by the violin soloist, who is very good. I’m thinking that with all the tourist performances of the Four Seasons around Paris, every string player in the vicinity must have this particular music down pat.

My seat is in the first loge, on the side, and when the girls next to me lean forward, I can’t see part of the stage. Of course they are leaning forward because the people to the right of them are leaning forward, and there is a domino effect. The people behind me in the second row end up standing. On the other hand, the choreography is such that after a while I realize I am not missing that much. On the whole, though, I enjoy the experience. The loge seats are accessed through private entryways, each outfitted with a couch and a mirror, and they must be unlocked by the usher. I picture the days when such private accommodations were occupied by Parisian high society, and imagine that a good part of the show in those days was watching the other patrons rather than the stage; and for that activity my seat was admirably situated.

I take the métro back to my apartment and go about packing my things. I finish the last of the avocados. I listen to the radio. The first time I went to Paris in recent years, I was excited to have the sounds of French all around me, on the radio, in the streets. Now that I have discovered the ability to listen to French radio stations at home on my computer, that thrill has diminished a little. But I still take in deep gulps of the atmosphere to keep it in my memory after I have returned home.

Wednesday morning I take a shuttle to the airport (http://world-shuttles.com/). I arrive with plenty of time to check my bags, take the train to the new terminal 2E, buy some French home magazines and chocolate, and board the plane. While it is nearly full this time, I have an empty seat next to me and once again enjoy a comfortable flight. There is a large group of men in yellow shirts going to some kind of rugby event in Boston, and none of them can sit still; they’re all in the aisles, drinking beer and chatting. It actually makes the flight feel somewhat festive. Before I know it, I am calling my husband and telling him I am at the curb; come get me. And the trip is over.

Terrific report. I've enjoyed reading it, and thank you for taking the time to write.

I like the looks of your apartment and have made a note of it on my Paris list.

I'm impressed with your ability to understand the college lectures. It's great to learn that these are offered. Learning the theater tipping protocol is a bonus.

"But I still take in deep gulps of the atmosphere to keep it in my memory after I have returned home."

Perfect, Nikki, just perfect.

Thanks for writing this.

AA

Thanks Nikki for the useful report cum photos! I will make use of the college-de-france lectures, and also the boat trip to La Vilette through the locks next trip up. Well done. Rouss

Once again, a very enjoyable report! I wish I had such and understanding of another language.

Nikki, I thoroughly enjoyed your report and pics. You've certainly captured the essence of Paris. May 27th cannot come soon enough for me when I will be there. Thanks.

Just be happy that you're not in Paris now. It snowed yesterday and this morning, for the first time in 2 years. (Some parts of France got 30cm of snow.)

I don't know about Nikki but I'd rather be in Paris if it must snow, than here

Thanks for the information and link to the podcasts and to the live lectures. I look forward to finding some to drop in on.

A bit of information about Brasserie Balzar: in the late evening ( I can't recall if it's 10:00 or 10:30 pm) they have a special menu for 19 Euros that included nearly everything on the carte. Definitely worth it.

Thanks for all the additional comments.

I'll try to let myself believe that a sunny day in Massachusetts is better than a snowy one in Paris, but I'm not that easily fooled.

However, Roussillon, I see on another thread that you live in the south of France and that you have done home exchanges. Any interest in a nice house on Cape Cod?

Nikki,

May I ask how you liked the area your apartment was in? Is this the area you usually stay in or something new? did it seem you had to metro or bus to everything and did you mind?

I've only been to Paris 2 times and stayed in the 6th and 7th but there is a place on Rue de Lyon I have been considering. It is about equidistant between the Gare de Lyon and bastille metros.

thanks,lynda

Thanks for the link to the Cluny museum! It was on my short list since I am a big Medieval fan... but since I am also a musician, I was delighted to learn that there are concerts there as well! I will be attending the troubadour and trouvère concert in May! Thanks!

Oh Nikki, what a wonderful report. It was great to meet you and thanks so much for arranging the evening GTG. We had a great time and it felt as if we'd spent the evening with old friends.

Lynda, I have never stayed in that area before, but I liked it a lot. I took the metro or bus almost everywhere, but you would certainly be able to walk lots of places if you wanted to.

Jojonana, I hope you enjoy the concert. I have been trying to get to one for several years, but they always seem to take the week off when I am in Paris. Glad there is a concert scheduled when you will be there.

SharonG, how could we not feel like old friends? We had so much to gossip about. Isn't the internet grand?

jojonana - noticed your comment on the medieval. I have a friend heading to Paris in September. he loves all things medieval especially armor. Any hints that I can pass along ?

What a great report. Seems we were in Paris around the same time. I arrived on March 24th. My report pails compared to yours. Your a great writer. Thanks for putting your album on my Kodak gallery. Lovely pictures.

Seafox, you should strongly encourage your friend to visit the Cluny museum and attend a concert there if his interest in all things medieval extends to music. And the CDs recorded by the group Ultreia are only available there, as far as I have been able to determine.

Jane, thanks for the nice words.

This from July 2008. I am sorry i do not know how transpose the URL

New York to Paris by Train

I took the subway from NY to Paris with an inconvenient flight in between. In NY the E train connects to the Airtrain and at CDG, I rode the RER to number 5 metro. I am getting to old to lug luggage up and down subway stairs but I saved about 100 bucks. By the way the RER is a commuter line with very narrow aisles not designed for transporting luggage. People leaped over the bags of others and asses to sit at odd angles because it was hard to sit squarely.

This is my fourth trip to Paris, 1972, 1982, 1999 and this morning. The others were with my wife, this one by myself. She has 65 miles remaining from her 500 mile Camino and I will join her next week in Santiago de Compostela.

Still bleary eyed after a short nap, I headed out. It is better to see Paris out of focus than not al all. Often I have trouble finding the ocean at the beach, let alone navigate in crooked and barely connected streets the Baron Haussman forgot to destroy. But I wanted to see the Marais.

I entered many storefront art galleries where most of the work looked familiar even though it was the first time I saw it.. But one artist however used browns and white to create unusual portraits including the taller robot from Star Wars (I never remember which thing is which thing) and Shakespreare. For the need of a screw the bot was lost.

I headed in the general direction, in the right city at least, but it was time for lunch. Actually body time suggested breakfast, so I had my usual breakfast steak tartare. It was just a café near the Boulevard Beaumarchais. As far I as can tell I was only one reading the International Herald Tribune (IHT) so I refrained from looking at the comics, so as not to embarrass all of us. The fries, bread, and the smallest salad in culinary history were fine but the steak tartare was wonderful. It was a lean day glo red we do not see in the States (I am assuming food coloring was not the culprit.) which was perfectly fresh and refreshing with capers and flavored with what tasted more like tomato than mustard. All for 12 Euros. The cafe was filled with Parisians have lunch with the owner clearing tables and directing traffic.

The IHT sports section had a short article with the following incomprehensible sentence:
England’s Twenty20 Cup tournament was in turmoil Tuesday after a match
was cancelled when it was discovered that a Yorkshire spin bowler Azeem Rafiq, had been illegally selected in the competition.
Spin bowler? Is that like a twirling badminton battler?
And I am also sure Azeem Rafiq has been added to the no fly list by now.

I still had not found the center of the Marais, so I decided to follow the falafel. People with pitas were getting thicker and thicker, onions and sauce dripping everywhere
The culprit was L’As du Falafel with a line down the rue de Rosiers. It is supposedly the best on the planet but I had just eaten and I have never had a Jones that bad for falafel. I went into two Kosher bakeries to bring something back to the room for later. In one I purchased the moistest onion roll and an almond stick, the other a poppy seed strudel. You really have to like poppy seeds to eat this. One bit and you will fail every drug test for the rest of your working career.

I wanted to speak about the people who worked there about the neighborhood and anti-semitism but one guy was busy, one young woman only spoke French, and one old man looked like the Dustin Hoffman character from Papillion after he lost his mind. Maybe I will go back another day.

The neighborhood is filled with museums and decaying buildings but I was looking for Place des Vosges. The relatively small square is perfect and conveys a serenity even though it is filled with children trying to kick pigeons and hoards of tourists marching purposeful to their next assignment. It is protected on all four sides by brick and stone pavilions with a 400 year history. I wanted to visit the Victor Hugo Museum but jetlag was winning. I have always thought it was amusing that Les Miserables, a work about oppression and injustice was made into a musical. “Da, da, da ta, da, we’re going to chop off your head, if you aren’t already dead.” Hugo always needed money so he may have approved. But I am guessing he would not have liked the nickname Les Miz, which is like calling the people who sleep on gratings The Home.
Day Whatever It Is

My sister-in-law is well traveled in Italy and Spain but has never been to France. For reasons known only to her, she holds stereotypes of Paris somewhere between a Gene Kelly and Jerry Lewis movie, with Edith Piaf thrown in. I was unsure where to eat near Ste. Germaine. I wanted to go to Le Procope and since I hadn’t been there since 1972, I wanted to ask for my regular table but it was too expensive for a joke that only I would get. But then I found a restaurant that justified my sister in law’s stereotypes, Café Thug. The waiter looked like one of those thugs from a 1950’s film with a full head of black hair and a five o’clock shadow that appeared as soon as finished shaving. The type that started smoking right after his first bottle. He waved at every other thug that passed down this side street. True to the Thug code, they waved back. No matter how bad the food, I was not sending it back.
The food was just a shade above the law. The onion soup was missing things like onions and instead of gruyere on top there were two little floating scorched pieces of bread, mismatched breasts if you will. The minute steak was 30 seconds past due and the crème brulee was as dense as the owner.

From there I started my self-guided literary tour.

Oddly enough my first stop was an art atelier where Picasso painted Guernica (7, rue de Grands Augustins), the grotesque rendering of the bombing of that town during the Spanish Civil War. An apocryphal tale surrounds that painting. A German soldier walked into the studio and asked Picasso if he did that. Supposedly Picasso responded, “No you did.”

Next was a restaurant now called Azabu (3 rue Daphne) where George Sand, Flaubert, and Turgenev gathered for dinner and cigars. Unfortunately whenever I now think of Flaubert, I think of the brilliant book by Julian Barnes Flaubert’s Parrot. Part of the work is about obsessions, one of which was finding the stuffed parrot that Flaubert once kept on his desk. This worries me. My tour is about the facades of buildings, many of which have been razed, rather than the interiors where they wrote, eat, drank, and worse. What is my obsession?

The next site was something from Baudelaire. I have never read Baudelaire, why would I want to see his building? And with my sense of direction it is taking me twenty minutes to find a building next to one another. So I detoured to the Seine to change the itinerary. Besides I am reading Pere Goriot by Balzac which is a true insight in 1830’s Paris. It speaks of a middle class boarding house and other social conventions.

Almost immediately I pass the Hotel de Voltaire where Baudelaire lived, as did one of my favorite wits, Oscar Wilde, and Richard Wagner who played Mendelssohn with gloves on so his fingers would not touch the music of a Jew.

I cross the Seine into the Tuileries and I was told that I must purchase tickets for L’Orangerie at the FNAC on the Champs. I pass the Place de Concorde where there is a statue of Louise Colet with whom Flaubert had a tumultuous relationship.

Walking the Champs, I decided not go to the parade on Bastille Day. There were metal barriers yards away from the center of the street. I would have to get there by 8 AM for a parade that did not start until after 10 and the Metro along the boulevards was closed that day for security reasons. As you walk through Paris, you hear many languages but on the Champs I heard the distinct Valley Girl dialect. That sing song yeah that is now being used at Gitmo instead of water boarding. But I wonder if there is Loire Valley accent that drives the French insane? When I finally arrive at FNAC, I am told there are no available tickets until after I leave Paris. A conspiracy.

That evening I return to the Marais for the world’s best falafel and lemonade. This part of Paris is dominated by Sephardim, which are Jews more or less from Spain and the Mediterranean. Ashkenazi Jews are from Eastern Europe, knishes, bagels-Sephardim falafel, schwarma. Since I do not eat falafel often, it was the best I ever had and only waited 10 minutes. The pita was filled falafel and cabbage, cucumber, eggplant, and other veggies. (No onions.) The lemonade was fine, I am not prepared at this time to say world’s best.

On the way back to the hotel I pass rue de Buci where Verlaine once lived and Place des Vosges where at various times Victor Hugo and Georges Simenon resided. (Did you know that Simenon wrote by lining up hundreds of pencils and as one became blunt he would throw it aside and pick up another one until he completed the work which he tried to do in one sitting without sleep.)
My friends get angry with me because I prefer dead authors over live ones. I guess death is like a Consumers Report, the reviews are complete for the most part. In keeping with the activities of the dead I visit the cemetery at Montparnesse.
When we went to Prague, I carried a huge rubber bug and put it on the tombstone of Franz Kafka for a photo. I had many ideas for Man Ray and Samuel Beckett, but they were not convenient. For Man Ray I needed a naked woman with a bass violin painted on her back to sit on the tombstone. For Beckett, I wanted an old boot. But for different reasons neither would fit in my suitcase.
When I arrived at the cemetery of Montparnasse, I found the official map to be useless and the place poorly marked. I could not find Man Ray, for example, who was sandwiched among with many other graves. If were not for some other American tourists who saw my bewilderment and asked if I was looking for Man Ray, I would still be fumbling about. I just put a package of lens cleaner on his tombstone for a photo and for Beckett a handwritten note-Act II.
I looked for the grave of Alfred Dreyfus, but it could not be found. There were few visitors in any part of the cemetery but a French woman who speak a bit of English and I looked for him without luck. There was, however, a gravesite that said, it was available, where Dreyfus was supposed to be. I read some time ago the grave site was disguised a bit in fear of consecration. But I can barely order in French, let alone explain and defend such a position. So she thought I was just another idiot when I suggested that he was buried there despite the “For Sale” sign.
I walked the Montparnasse area including the Luxembourg Garden a grand and well traversed tiered park. There were very few places open for lunch until I reached Boulevard Montparnasse where I found a Chinese restaurant. I had lemon chicken, and just the way I like it, extremely tart, otherwise it was very New York.
I went back to the Marais that evening, where I found a Jewish wedding in the Place de Vosges and in near rue des Rosiers, Orthodox Jews trying to convince other Jews to prey wearing tefillin. Teffilin are black leather boxes with straps that contain portions from the Torah. They are also called phylacteries. All in the midst of the falafel wars.
The following day was Bastille Day. I knew the main activity was on the Champs Elysee but I walked to the Place de Bastille where absolutely nothing was going on except the usual flow of traffic. Even the McDonald’s was quiet. I did, however, watch some of the big parade on TV. There was Sarkozy, with a general standing in a jeep and waving. There were brigades of troops and other oddly dressed Frenchmen waving swords and engaging in other activities of deference.
The United States is the most aggressive military nation in the world and our parades have floats with cartoon characters, bands playing unidentifiable tunes, and young woman in what amounts to bathing suits throwing metal sticks in the air, but no tanks, missiles, or masses of troops. The French long a second rate military power have
flying paratroopers, tanks, and kepis. I guess whenever the US becomes a second rate military power we can expect the Watermelon Queen and the Mickey float to be replaced with our most advanced and prized ancient weaponry.
I took the Metro to Sacre Couer. Parisians travel with their dogs. There are not service dogs but their pets. It seems Parisians are more tolerant of dog and their leavings than poorly spoken French. If they are so close to their dog, the dog should pay and have the dog put the ticket through the turnstile.
This was the first time I visited Sacre Couer and the Pigalle. The tourists pour out of the Metro and buses like a rat hole being exterminated. There were three card monte games near the church. In NYC a three card monte game involves at least 5 conspirators, the dealer, a shill, a least one pick pocket, and two look outs. They did not need a shill; the huge crowds were filled with potential suckers.
I then walked up the Boulevard de Rouchechuart. More impressive than the amount of sex shops are all the people that support block after block of sex shops. Even in the hay day of Times Square we could only support a few blocks of that stuff.
My final day was spent gathering gifts at Fauchon and chocolate shops. I must have remembered a different Fauchon. There were limited offerings and no ortolans or other exotic foods. I purchased chocolate at Jardis a famous shop. It was quite good but not the best I have eaten.
I saved my splurge meal for my last supper. It was at Temps au Temps. I had a carefully prepared chicken breast in its own juice and butter on a nest of the most delicious carrots and lettuce. For dessert I had a gateau of chocolate with a touch of banana ice cream. A very nice finish to my trip to Paris.

Details
I stayed at the Best Western Marais Bastille on Boulevard Richard Lenoir. The staff was extremely kind and attentive. The room’s only window was on airshaft but the bathroom for the price large. 100 Euros for the room and 13 Euros for a breakfast which includes bread from Poilane’s. There is a Metro stop a block away and the Bastille stop about a five minute walk.

I flew Vueling from Paris to Santiago de Compostela. CDG is an unmarked madness where a traveler is supposed to know by osmosis where and when to go the proper places. The flight was an hour late with no explanation and no signs. They “lost” my bag in Santiago, since no one told me it was at the ticket counter rather than the baggage claim.

I have an account with an international bank and took money out of the magic wall without any problem. I did, however, call when in the United States to inform them of my trip.

aduchamp.
i was laughing out loud at your descriptive narrative of your trip.
you have a wonderful way with words.
thank you.

thanks to you, i got to read nikki's report as well..

just curious, why did you not post your own report instead of tagging on to nikki's?

I'm guessing Aduchamp meant to post to the France trip report thread and got lost while reminiscing about Cafe Thug. I must try that place next time. (Thanks for posting to this thread though; I loved your report and it also gave me a chance to walk down memory lane with my own report.)

I missed this wonderful trip report the first time around Nikki. And thanks for bringing it to the top.

Nikki,
I hope you still look at these replies. I know you wrote in April, and now it is almost July.
I so enjoyed reading your posts, and all the replies to it. I have booked the apt. you stayed in! We are two Canadian women that will arrive from the Netherlands, for an 8 day stay in Paris beginning September 3rd. Then will leave to walk the Camino Primitivo to Santiago de Compestella.

I am a little anxious about forwarding funds to a bank account in Marseille, even though I have a signed agreement. My first time doing this.

Also want to attend some cultural events. I need to research the possible events in September. If anyone has any suggestions, I would appreciate it.

My french is poor, although I will make every effort to use what I have.

Buses - sounds like they are available from this location.

I would also appreciate some suggestions from this forum about day trips away from Paris. I know I could probably fill my days in Paris, but would like to venture away - perhaps for one or two day trips.
Thanks in advance for your assistance.

Jan

Nikki and Aud , I am so glad I found both these reports this morning. How I missed Nikki's from April I'll never know!

Both were delightful and informative.

Nikki, if you are still checking in here, did your apt. have an elevator ?. It looks like it is on a high floor . The description at VRBO does not say. Also was there internet access?

I really enjoyed this apartment when I stayed there last year, and I have booked it again for a stay in November this year.

Jan, I sent an e-mail to the owner and asked if she takes Paypal. While she did not last year, this year she said she does. That is certainly more convenient than a wire transfer to the bank. But last year I did the wire transfer and had no problems.

There are plenty of buses near the apartment. I find the most useful map for public transportation is the Grand Plan Lignes et Rues, available at metro stops. This shows all the bus lines overlaid on a street map.

For day trips, there are lots of interesting threads on this message board. Search for "Paris day trips" and you should find lots of ideas.

For cultural activities, I always check for opera and ballet at the two opera houses at http://www.operadeparis.fr/cns11/live/onp/site/.

I frequently find good programs of classical music at the Theatre des Champs Elysees. Their schedule for September is available at http://www.theatrechampselysees09.fr/calendrier.php?m=2009-9.

For more cultural suggestions I would post a new question here, so people will see it and are more likely to respond than they are to this thread which is over a year old.

Avalon, yes there is an elevator and internet access.

Thanks Nikki, We are just going to miss you this year , sorry to say, as we so enjoyed meeting you last year.

Thanks Nikki. Appreciated so much your suggestions.
I will go to the bank this am to see about the wire transfer. Hopefully without problems. Otherwise will ask about pay pal.
Warm wishes from a sunny Vancouver.

Jan

I also enjoyed reading your review again. Your photos have such a great feel for Paris & it's people.

Wow, that was great Nikki. I feel like I'm there again. Thanks so much for giving us this report.