The Coat In Paris, Part 2
Dec 27th, 2003, 01:02 PM
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The Coat In Paris, Part 2
Awoke at 10 AM to a brilliantly sunshiny day. We sailed out the door to breakfast lightly clad, then immediately hustled back inside in search of our coats. Note to Floridian self: sun don't mean a thing if the air ain't like Spring.
Heads tucked against wintry blasts, we marched to the Ecole Militaire Metro with the carefully plotted schedule of Day Two's activities in hand. That was perhaps our last moment of compliance with my grandiose scheme to maximize travel to designated targets and minimize aimless wandering.
The next nine hours were spent meandering about in serendipity's Lost and Found Department, randomly popping up like inquisitive rabbits from Metro stations in arrondisments scattered all across the city's center.
Though we searched from one end of rue de Bac to the other and were repeatedly directed to Deyrolle's taxidermy shop, we saw not one hair of a stuffed house cat or a dead chihuahua. The Permanent Pets have evidently decamped to warmer climes. The entire menagerie may in fact be at this moment sprawled in lounge chairs on the lawn of my Florida apartment wearing Ray Bans and bikinis.
Ah well, another day, another Parisian safari.
Heads tucked against wintry blasts, we marched to the Ecole Militaire Metro with the carefully plotted schedule of Day Two's activities in hand. That was perhaps our last moment of compliance with my grandiose scheme to maximize travel to designated targets and minimize aimless wandering.
The next nine hours were spent meandering about in serendipity's Lost and Found Department, randomly popping up like inquisitive rabbits from Metro stations in arrondisments scattered all across the city's center.
Though we searched from one end of rue de Bac to the other and were repeatedly directed to Deyrolle's taxidermy shop, we saw not one hair of a stuffed house cat or a dead chihuahua. The Permanent Pets have evidently decamped to warmer climes. The entire menagerie may in fact be at this moment sprawled in lounge chairs on the lawn of my Florida apartment wearing Ray Bans and bikinis.
Ah well, another day, another Parisian safari.
Dec 27th, 2003, 05:34 PM
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Thank you, dear ladies, but confusion reigns. Along the way to nowhere, though, we found lots of other fun things to do, lots of sumptuous window displays and lots of tempting goodies to eat, so actually the day was a triumph, not a loss at all. Thanks,too, for Deyrolle's street number, 45. We'll make a direct beeline for it tomorrow.
Please overlook the multiple errors of spelling and general composition. My struggle with a maddeningly unfamiliar keyboard situated in the hotel bar leaves no concentration for petty details or revision.
Inebriation by osmosis and utter ineptitude will, I'm afraid, be the hallmark of this attempt at serial travelogue.
No sign of the notorious OliveOyl, but she may not recognize me now that The Coat (which thankfully grows more pliable with use) is topped with a fabulous cashmere shawl, a Christmas gift from a much loved Yokohama friend.
Thanks, Ira and everyone, for the apparel advice. Isn't Fodors just a grand place to visit?
Please overlook the multiple errors of spelling and general composition. My struggle with a maddeningly unfamiliar keyboard situated in the hotel bar leaves no concentration for petty details or revision.
Inebriation by osmosis and utter ineptitude will, I'm afraid, be the hallmark of this attempt at serial travelogue.
No sign of the notorious OliveOyl, but she may not recognize me now that The Coat (which thankfully grows more pliable with use) is topped with a fabulous cashmere shawl, a Christmas gift from a much loved Yokohama friend.
Thanks, Ira and everyone, for the apparel advice. Isn't Fodors just a grand place to visit?
Dec 27th, 2003, 05:58 PM
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<b>46</b> Croque Madame, not 45!!
It's on the west side of the street, that's the right side if you are going away from the Seine.
Those French keyboards will drive you mad.
Good luck, glad you are having fun, and we MUST have a report if you return to Deyrolles.
It's on the west side of the street, that's the right side if you are going away from the Seine.
Those French keyboards will drive you mad.
Good luck, glad you are having fun, and we MUST have a report if you return to Deyrolles.
Dec 27th, 2003, 07:25 PM
#8
At street level, there are large glass display cases on either side of the door; beyond that, a dark foyer. There was no sign saying ?Ouvert,? no lights on, no people, no signs of life. In fact that last point should have been the tip-off that everything was normal. We tried the door; it opened. There was a creaky old staircase ahead of us, and we tentatively mounted the stairs. When we got to the top we were greeted by the reassuring glow of fluorescent lights, and the somewhat less reassuring sight of a moose staring at us.
Dec 29th, 2003, 04:24 AM
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Sorry, Rex! Thanks for the advice. OK, here goes:
BENEATH The Coat In Paris, or Part 3
Have suffered an unexpected setback. To wit, an inflammatory, allergic reaction in a most awkward location.
After hearing the myths about underwire bra's setting off alarms at airport check-in, before leaving for Paris I craftily cut the metal wire out of an old white bra. Then, not wishing to be mortified by the slightest hint of dingy lingerie should I be required to disrobe for closer inspection, I washed the deboned bra in detergent and lots of bleach.
My friends, the rinse cycle was evidently insufficient.
My scalded skin now sports a burning stigmata in the perfect image of a crimson bra.
Pause for a moment, if you will, to imagine my trepidation at the thought of attempting to describe this monstrous affliction, in my lamentable french, at the nearest pharmacie tomorrow.
The good news? We found Deyrolle's at last!
The bad news? It's closed on Sundays. Today was, of course, Sunday.
Other touristy ups and downs? Thrilling organ concert in Notre Dame as the last pallid rays of the setting sun illuminated the stained glass windows. Abbreviated sewer tour. Unless you are (like my escort on this trip) only eleven years old, you'll find the surroundings bleak, the ambience appalling. Choppy vendette riverboat ride, water frigid.
Suprisingly tasty gyro's and frites on bustling rue de la Huchette. Propositioned, oddly enough, by apparent gigolo? thief? on corner of Saint Michel. Grandson dropped Lancel tote containing Carton pastries in gutter stream.
Absolutely spectacular view of nighttime Paris all lit up below us as we clung to the fence in bone chilling wind atop Montparnasse Tower. Descended into a swarm of short tempered travelers returning from Christmas holidays en famille, still smarting from the strain of it all.
No sign of OliveOyl. Inquired the identity of one especially appealing American woman, only to be given the strangest look when I shyly asked, "Might you, by any chance, be...OliveOyl?"
BENEATH The Coat In Paris, or Part 3
Have suffered an unexpected setback. To wit, an inflammatory, allergic reaction in a most awkward location.
After hearing the myths about underwire bra's setting off alarms at airport check-in, before leaving for Paris I craftily cut the metal wire out of an old white bra. Then, not wishing to be mortified by the slightest hint of dingy lingerie should I be required to disrobe for closer inspection, I washed the deboned bra in detergent and lots of bleach.
My friends, the rinse cycle was evidently insufficient.
My scalded skin now sports a burning stigmata in the perfect image of a crimson bra.
Pause for a moment, if you will, to imagine my trepidation at the thought of attempting to describe this monstrous affliction, in my lamentable french, at the nearest pharmacie tomorrow.
The good news? We found Deyrolle's at last!
The bad news? It's closed on Sundays. Today was, of course, Sunday.
Other touristy ups and downs? Thrilling organ concert in Notre Dame as the last pallid rays of the setting sun illuminated the stained glass windows. Abbreviated sewer tour. Unless you are (like my escort on this trip) only eleven years old, you'll find the surroundings bleak, the ambience appalling. Choppy vendette riverboat ride, water frigid.
Suprisingly tasty gyro's and frites on bustling rue de la Huchette. Propositioned, oddly enough, by apparent gigolo? thief? on corner of Saint Michel. Grandson dropped Lancel tote containing Carton pastries in gutter stream.
Absolutely spectacular view of nighttime Paris all lit up below us as we clung to the fence in bone chilling wind atop Montparnasse Tower. Descended into a swarm of short tempered travelers returning from Christmas holidays en famille, still smarting from the strain of it all.
No sign of OliveOyl. Inquired the identity of one especially appealing American woman, only to be given the strangest look when I shyly asked, "Might you, by any chance, be...OliveOyl?"
Dec 29th, 2003, 10:45 AM
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Croque Madame, will you make a third attempt to visit Deyrolles? Were there sufficient critters in the windows to fascinate your grandson? Dropping pastries in the gutter? Quelle horreur!! I think another hot chocolate is called for.
Dec 29th, 2003, 01:01 PM
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The Coat In Paris Meets Many Coats More Hairy, Part 4
Thanks, Marilyn, for the encouragement to again try Deyrolle. 45 rue du Bac, so very, very droll!
In the front window, two elegant deer stood upright on their hind legs, dressed in gentlemen's gardening clothes, complete with appropriate tools. Just inside the door, another upright deer extended a foreleg at arm level as if, like a butler, to take our coats.
Upstairs, a zebra family and their guest, an ox, waited politely for dinner around a table set with flowered china. Behind them, a dignified chestnut horse extended his head through an opening to the staircase landing, solemnly assessing visitors as they ascended.
In the next room were a moose with a bullet hole to stick your finger in, a pair of snarling polar bears, a lion with most of his claws lost perhaps to an African chieftain's necklace, several shaggy bison, a morose chow, two cows conversing very quietly in a corner, a black bear, some lambs, and a curly fleeced, sturdy sheep.
All these and more in a room the size of the average American bedroom, the unmoving, silent animals available for hands-on petting, tactile comparison of textures.
Another little room with a creaking wooden floor had a llama at the window looking down on pedestrians in the street, while a calico cat and a gray rabbit warmed themselves on the radiator. Two ancient Siamese peeked warily from behind a grinning fox with a dead bird in his mouth. Lots more birds and butterflies of many species.
In the course of a lifetime, how many of us do you suppose get to knock on a moose's hollow antlers or count a lion's missing claws? Stroke a very angry looking skunk without hesitation?
Think of these things, magnify the effect to the limits of your adult imagination. Then, look at it all with the unfiltered vision of a child.
Who cares if, for the second time, the line to ice skate in front of the Hotel de Ville was again too long to consider joining?
Deyrolle has provided us with the stuff of tonight's dreams.
Thanks, Marilyn, for the encouragement to again try Deyrolle. 45 rue du Bac, so very, very droll!
In the front window, two elegant deer stood upright on their hind legs, dressed in gentlemen's gardening clothes, complete with appropriate tools. Just inside the door, another upright deer extended a foreleg at arm level as if, like a butler, to take our coats.
Upstairs, a zebra family and their guest, an ox, waited politely for dinner around a table set with flowered china. Behind them, a dignified chestnut horse extended his head through an opening to the staircase landing, solemnly assessing visitors as they ascended.
In the next room were a moose with a bullet hole to stick your finger in, a pair of snarling polar bears, a lion with most of his claws lost perhaps to an African chieftain's necklace, several shaggy bison, a morose chow, two cows conversing very quietly in a corner, a black bear, some lambs, and a curly fleeced, sturdy sheep.
All these and more in a room the size of the average American bedroom, the unmoving, silent animals available for hands-on petting, tactile comparison of textures.
Another little room with a creaking wooden floor had a llama at the window looking down on pedestrians in the street, while a calico cat and a gray rabbit warmed themselves on the radiator. Two ancient Siamese peeked warily from behind a grinning fox with a dead bird in his mouth. Lots more birds and butterflies of many species.
In the course of a lifetime, how many of us do you suppose get to knock on a moose's hollow antlers or count a lion's missing claws? Stroke a very angry looking skunk without hesitation?
Think of these things, magnify the effect to the limits of your adult imagination. Then, look at it all with the unfiltered vision of a child.
Who cares if, for the second time, the line to ice skate in front of the Hotel de Ville was again too long to consider joining?
Deyrolle has provided us with the stuff of tonight's dreams.
Dec 30th, 2003, 12:51 PM
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Guess what, folks? Angelina's is no more! Fauchon spread its tentacles into Galeries Lafayette and snatched away the best place in Paris to have a frothy cup of chocolat chaud!
Fauchon has also taken over the former Flo Prestige store next to the Ecole Militaire Metro stop, usurping that inexpensive take out option.
After a long, busy day, this evening we stood in line for more than four hours in beastly cold weather, waiting to ascend the Eiffel Tower, heartily wishing the most torturous of karma's on the multi-national line cutters ahead.
Having been to the top of the Tower on other visits, if I were on my own this trip I would have split at the first sign of frostbite, but such is a grandmother's love that I endured the interminable, frozen wait with a minimum of whimpering and no audible cursing.
Too exhausted, footsore, and possibly pre-consumptive to relate more tonight.
Fauchon has also taken over the former Flo Prestige store next to the Ecole Militaire Metro stop, usurping that inexpensive take out option.
After a long, busy day, this evening we stood in line for more than four hours in beastly cold weather, waiting to ascend the Eiffel Tower, heartily wishing the most torturous of karma's on the multi-national line cutters ahead.
Having been to the top of the Tower on other visits, if I were on my own this trip I would have split at the first sign of frostbite, but such is a grandmother's love that I endured the interminable, frozen wait with a minimum of whimpering and no audible cursing.
Too exhausted, footsore, and possibly pre-consumptive to relate more tonight.
Dec 30th, 2003, 01:26 PM
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Too bad about Angelina's at the Galeries-we had a nice lunch there last year. Now, due to the amusing tale, we shall have to put Deyrolle on our list, although the sight of the two Siamese may be hard to take.
