Paris encore: Nikki's trip report
Feb 27th, 2005, 12:15 PM
#21
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Oh no! I really wanted to keep reading about the rest of your trip (yes, very selfish of me 
) I'm very much enjoying your report, Nikki. Love the easy style you have of writing, and look forward to reading the rest!
) I'm very much enjoying your report, Nikki. Love the easy style you have of writing, and look forward to reading the rest!
Feb 27th, 2005, 01:25 PM
#23
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Thanks to all for reading and commenting. Your comments are much appreciated. I am trying to fit in writing this report between driving my daughter back to school, getting the pictures developed, unpacking the gorgeous blue pottery (oh no, not more gorgeous blue pottery to find places for!) and staring at the empty refrigerator. Can't do the laundry yet because my two suitcases (including the gym bag full of laundry) did not arrive with us from Paris. We're hoping for a delivery this evening, but no word yet.
Feb 27th, 2005, 02:28 PM
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I must read too many mysteries. I saw "Alan had magret" and thought it said "Alan had Maigret".
I am loving your report! Have to admit that I'm a little surprised that they served cranberries in France--I thought they were an American thing that wouldn't translate well elsewhere.
Feb 27th, 2005, 02:29 PM
#26
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Monday we started slowly. In fact, we started pretty slowly all week. Fine by me. We had lunch at a Lebanese place a couple of blocks from our apartment, good sandwiches on pita much better than the pita I am used to in the U.S. In the area where we stayed, there were ethnic restaurants of many varieties in every direction. One could eat well and fairly cheaply for a long time without repeating onself very often.
We walked to the Deportation Memorial on Ile de la Cite, behind Notre Dame. This has been something I've meant to get to but hadn't done it until now. I thought it was a solemn and moving memorial and am glad that we saw it. Then we walked to another place that's been on my list for some time: BHV, the large department store behind the Hotel de Ville. I had a vague idea of looking for cabinet pulls, having read on Fodor's that someone found some there. We went to the basement and stumbled into the cafe, which is decorated as an old time work room, complete with antique tools. I wonder whether the tools have been lying around in the basement of BHV ever since they were sold there. The basement is now filled with an enormous selection of hardware and home improvement items. Alan wandered happily for half an hour while I sat in the cafe. Never found the cabinet pulls though. Then we went to the first floor, which had a large book and CD selection, and bought some things there.
By this time my feet were giving out, and we took a cab back to the apartment. Rather than go in, though, we went to have a drink at the Bombardier, a British style pub across the street from the Pantheon. Filled with French twenty-somethings but a comfortable place for us as well.
Dinner was at Les Fetes Gallantes, a few doors down from our apartment. This is a tiny place with only a few tables. We enjoyed dinner very much. I had more foie gras, I think, and then some lovely rare grilled lamb chops. The wall against which we were seated was covered with photos and letters from customers, friends, who knows who all, and there were odd sparkly things dangling from the ceiling, as if it had been decorated for a children's party. Only two people were in evidence working there: the teenaged waiter and the proprietor, whom I think was his father. At some point Alan asked me to look at the wall across the room. It was covered in bras and women's underwear. After dinner Alan ran out to get his camera from the apartment. He returned and took a picture of the wall. The waiter offered to take his picture in front of the wall, which he did. Then the proprietor came out and I took his picture with Alan. I asked him to tell us the story of the wall.
This is what he told me (or at least this is how I understood it. My French is not always adequate for the task). A woman who was eating in the restaurant was an attorney. I didn't catch the context, but somehow it came up that the proprietor thought the attorney would be appointed a judge. The woman said if she was elevated to the bench she would take off her panties in the restaurant. And of course she was, and she did. But, according to the proprietor, the panties were "pas si jolie", not so pretty, and he told her so. Then he asked if she'd donate her bra instead. Which she did. Others followed suit, as it were. There are pictures of some of the women on the wall. And many of the donated items are signed by their former owners.
And that is my story and I'm sticking to it. And then he gave us free drinks.
We walked to the Deportation Memorial on Ile de la Cite, behind Notre Dame. This has been something I've meant to get to but hadn't done it until now. I thought it was a solemn and moving memorial and am glad that we saw it. Then we walked to another place that's been on my list for some time: BHV, the large department store behind the Hotel de Ville. I had a vague idea of looking for cabinet pulls, having read on Fodor's that someone found some there. We went to the basement and stumbled into the cafe, which is decorated as an old time work room, complete with antique tools. I wonder whether the tools have been lying around in the basement of BHV ever since they were sold there. The basement is now filled with an enormous selection of hardware and home improvement items. Alan wandered happily for half an hour while I sat in the cafe. Never found the cabinet pulls though. Then we went to the first floor, which had a large book and CD selection, and bought some things there.
By this time my feet were giving out, and we took a cab back to the apartment. Rather than go in, though, we went to have a drink at the Bombardier, a British style pub across the street from the Pantheon. Filled with French twenty-somethings but a comfortable place for us as well.
Dinner was at Les Fetes Gallantes, a few doors down from our apartment. This is a tiny place with only a few tables. We enjoyed dinner very much. I had more foie gras, I think, and then some lovely rare grilled lamb chops. The wall against which we were seated was covered with photos and letters from customers, friends, who knows who all, and there were odd sparkly things dangling from the ceiling, as if it had been decorated for a children's party. Only two people were in evidence working there: the teenaged waiter and the proprietor, whom I think was his father. At some point Alan asked me to look at the wall across the room. It was covered in bras and women's underwear. After dinner Alan ran out to get his camera from the apartment. He returned and took a picture of the wall. The waiter offered to take his picture in front of the wall, which he did. Then the proprietor came out and I took his picture with Alan. I asked him to tell us the story of the wall.
This is what he told me (or at least this is how I understood it. My French is not always adequate for the task). A woman who was eating in the restaurant was an attorney. I didn't catch the context, but somehow it came up that the proprietor thought the attorney would be appointed a judge. The woman said if she was elevated to the bench she would take off her panties in the restaurant. And of course she was, and she did. But, according to the proprietor, the panties were "pas si jolie", not so pretty, and he told her so. Then he asked if she'd donate her bra instead. Which she did. Others followed suit, as it were. There are pictures of some of the women on the wall. And many of the donated items are signed by their former owners.
And that is my story and I'm sticking to it. And then he gave us free drinks.
Feb 27th, 2005, 02:49 PM
#30
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Mimi, that is what I was thinking. This trip of yours Nikki would make a fantastic film. Can't you just visualize it. Especially at the airport when your husband says "oh no" because his carryon was left at the house.
What a wonderful thread to read, especially on a rainy, dark and gloomy day. Please keep going - we are all hanging on your every word.
What a wonderful thread to read, especially on a rainy, dark and gloomy day. Please keep going - we are all hanging on your every word.
Feb 27th, 2005, 03:39 PM
#31
Original Poster
But the night was young, and we were still mostly on Massachusetts time, and the walk to the jazz club was downhill, so we sought out the Caveau des Oubliettes. We descended the staircase into the dungeon, where a band was playing to a packed house. Standing room only. Mostly very young. A fellow was walking around the room taking the names of volunteers to jam together, and after we were there a few minutes, a couple of folks came to the stage with their horns. A call went out for a pianist, but none was in evidence, so the group shook hands, introduced themselves to each other, and started to play. We didn't stay long after this because of the crowds.
We tried the Caveau de la Huchette, a short walk away, but Alan descended to that dungeon without me to check on the seating arrangements. Once again, SRO. So we went to a bar we had passed with a pianist on the ground floor, no descent required, and seating readily available. The name of the bar will come to me if my luggage ever comes to me, since it is listed in Time Out, which is packed in my still missing suitcase. There was a lower level here as well, with cabaret until dawn, but it hadn't really started up yet. The pianist upstairs was joined briefly by a singer who appeared to be a man until breaking out into an operatic soprano. Split decision on the singer's gender, since I don't think men can sing like that (they don't have castrati any more, do they?) and Alan doesn't think women can look like that. After an hour or so, we trudged back uphill to the apartment and called it a night.
We tried the Caveau de la Huchette, a short walk away, but Alan descended to that dungeon without me to check on the seating arrangements. Once again, SRO. So we went to a bar we had passed with a pianist on the ground floor, no descent required, and seating readily available. The name of the bar will come to me if my luggage ever comes to me, since it is listed in Time Out, which is packed in my still missing suitcase. There was a lower level here as well, with cabaret until dawn, but it hadn't really started up yet. The pianist upstairs was joined briefly by a singer who appeared to be a man until breaking out into an operatic soprano. Split decision on the singer's gender, since I don't think men can sing like that (they don't have castrati any more, do they?) and Alan doesn't think women can look like that. After an hour or so, we trudged back uphill to the apartment and called it a night.
Feb 27th, 2005, 07:51 PM
#33
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Nikki,
Omigosh-- what ups and downs just getting underway! I'm so glad everything worked out OK.
I'm thoroughly enjoying your report-- and taking copious notes to use on my upcoming trip-- keep up the good work!
Omigosh-- what ups and downs just getting underway! I'm so glad everything worked out OK.
I'm thoroughly enjoying your report-- and taking copious notes to use on my upcoming trip-- keep up the good work!
Feb 27th, 2005, 08:06 PM
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Nikki, just for future reference, the drawer pulls and knobs are on the 4th floor of BHV. I have door knobs and drawer pulls in both my kitchen and bathroom that I bought there. They have a large selection, plus every time I seem them (obviously, every day!), I think of Paris...
Feb 27th, 2005, 08:28 PM
#36
Original Poster
Here it is 12:30 at night and I'm thinking it's around 6:30 in the morning and it's time to get up.
Yes, maggie f, at first I was thinking the singer could be a countertenor, but I used to be close friends with a countertenor, and this was a very different kind of voice. Of course if my husband is correct, that is the only viable explanation.
SusanP, I somehow can't see myself getting back to the BHV any time too soon, but if I do I'll have to climb higher, I see. And by then we might have actually put drawer pulls on the cabinets that have been waiting ten years for them. Well, now that I look at it that way, we probably won't.
Yes, maggie f, at first I was thinking the singer could be a countertenor, but I used to be close friends with a countertenor, and this was a very different kind of voice. Of course if my husband is correct, that is the only viable explanation.
SusanP, I somehow can't see myself getting back to the BHV any time too soon, but if I do I'll have to climb higher, I see. And by then we might have actually put drawer pulls on the cabinets that have been waiting ten years for them. Well, now that I look at it that way, we probably won't.
Feb 27th, 2005, 08:32 PM
#37
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Marcy, you were my inspiration to run to the market first thing upon arrival and buy cheese. However, I remember you bought a tray with a "little" of several kinds of cheese. I bought a big bag with large pieces of four or five types, give or take a camembert, and we were still snacking on it at the airport on the way home.
Feb 27th, 2005, 08:40 PM
#38
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Nikki, We just moved into this house a year and a half ago and since then have added a new cupboard in the kitchen. I told my husband that of course I have to go back to Paris so I can get knobs for that cupboard that match the rest! (OK, I admit it, any excuse to go back.)
Feb 27th, 2005, 08:56 PM
#39
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Nikki,
I can't believe you're up now-- you really are all turned around time-wise.
You're making me hungry for some more of that wonderful French cheese!
And Scarlett, thanks for the tip on the chicken thread. ~
gt;
I can't believe you're up now-- you really are all turned around time-wise.
You're making me hungry for some more of that wonderful French cheese!
And Scarlett, thanks for the tip on the chicken thread. ~
gt;
Feb 27th, 2005, 09:56 PM
#40
Original Poster
Tuesday morning we walked down to the market at Place Maubert. It was snowing and cold so there weren't very many vendors there, but we managed to find foie gras and cheese and wine and bread and strawberries. The guy selling the strawberries asked if I wanted a kilo or a demi-kilo, and I said un demi. Then he got a bag and said, "Un kilo?" and I said, "Non, un demi." So he filled the bag and said, "Un kilo?" and I said, "Non, un demi". Then he ran to the next stand to weigh it and said it was a little over. I caved in under the pressure and took the bag. Somehow we managed to eat them all.
After lunch we took a bus to the Musee Marmottan, another place on my list of things to see that I've missed out on until now. Afterwards I spent some time taking pictures at the park across the street. There was a small carousel operated by a man who ran around pushing it while children tried to catch rings on a stick as they went by. Too cute.
Dinner that night was at La Chantairelle, up one street from our apartment. Lovely regional food from the Auvergne. A mechanical cow mooed as we opened the door, and birdsong was on tape all night. There was also a clock striking the hour by hooting as a different owl for each hour, at least I think it was owls. I didn't notice the cat prowling the room until the end of the night. A glass wall at the rear of the restaurant revealed a lighted garden behind it, and occasionally the cat would be visible out there as well as inside. I had a very cheesey dish with potatoes, and local ham from the Auvergne which was served on the side. For dessert there was an absolutely wonderful apple tart with ice cream melting on it.
After lunch we took a bus to the Musee Marmottan, another place on my list of things to see that I've missed out on until now. Afterwards I spent some time taking pictures at the park across the street. There was a small carousel operated by a man who ran around pushing it while children tried to catch rings on a stick as they went by. Too cute.
Dinner that night was at La Chantairelle, up one street from our apartment. Lovely regional food from the Auvergne. A mechanical cow mooed as we opened the door, and birdsong was on tape all night. There was also a clock striking the hour by hooting as a different owl for each hour, at least I think it was owls. I didn't notice the cat prowling the room until the end of the night. A glass wall at the rear of the restaurant revealed a lighted garden behind it, and occasionally the cat would be visible out there as well as inside. I had a very cheesey dish with potatoes, and local ham from the Auvergne which was served on the side. For dessert there was an absolutely wonderful apple tart with ice cream melting on it.
