We slept a bit later today. Out at 9 into another cold gray day. Made our way to the Invalides (map), thence to Rue Duvivier, a non-descript street where we had considered renting an apartment. Number 11 was a non-descript building – probably would have been fine. One block over is Rue Cler, another of these terrific busy little pedestrian neighborhoods. It would have been more than fine!
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At the Parc du Champ de Mars is a sculpture group dedicated to the rights of man. Rather than a grand photo of the whole thing, I shot a little boy, perhaps a printer’s devil. His hat is newsprint; in fact most of the monument is newsprint. The headlines are legible, and if one tried, the text might well also be legible. |
(Map) We crossed under the Eiffel tower to the Palais de Chaillot.
The gap in the middle of the Palais, leading to Place Trocadero, was closed off with construction hoardings, so we had to go around the building. Actually quite a nice little park. We came up along Rue Franklin, with, sure enough, a bronze statue of Benjamin himself at the Place.
We didn’t see how to get into the Passy cemetery, ended up walking completely around it – I’ve done that before! – before finding the entrance fifty meters in the other direction down the street from where we started.
Smaller than the others, Passy isn’t as well labeled, either. It took us quite a while, but we finally succeeded – Fauré! A surprisingly modest grave. |
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Debussy is also here, also modest. It started raining, so we skipped the search for Renault, he of automotive fame, also interred here.
Took Avenue Kléber to the Arc de Triomphe (map), then Boulevard Haussmann past the Opéra, which is completely covered with construction shells. Rue du Quatre Septembre led past the Bourse, which for some reason, we had not seen before. Then on to the Montorgueil-St Denis quarter, which I wanted to show Jacky (map).
Wandered the quarter for a few minutes, went over to Rue St Martin. St Nicolas des Champs is old and dim, has hardly any stained glass. Thought we’d visit the museum at the Conservatoire des Arts et Métiers, but it’s closed for renovation until September.
Sat in Square Émile Chautemps and watched a family playing bocce. A fellow came along, thinking we ought to be German-speakers. Don’t know why; I wasn’t even wearing my Telekom bikie cap at the time.
We explored some more of the little side streets, but they were almost deserted. It’s hard to predict – simply declaring an area to be a pedestrian zone doesn’t automatically bring it to life. Then back past the defender of time, where we waited five minutes to see a battle with the crab.
We enjoyed the cyclist tooling down the marked bike lane at the side of the road (his parents were walking the sidewalk not far behind).
We had had only power bars all day, but as soon as we decided it would be nice to get some clementinen, there were none to be found. Back toward the hotel to warm up and nap – and eat the clementinen we found in the rabbit warren on the way.
Thought we might try the area around St Germain des Prés tonight. This area includes Rue de Seine, where we saw all the grocery stores the first day. Not so many restaurants, though. Wandered, got out of the area, ended up on Rue Bonaparte at the Quai. Moomph!
Back up into the town. No sign of Thai or Coréen, but on Rue Dauphine, we found Chez Gandhi. Too much meat, not enough spice, but we enjoyed it. No smokers!
Raining as we walked home. This is really the first time we’ve been caught in real, honest-to-goodness rain. Can’t complain.
Sunny, windy and cold. We went out for a brief walk, to shoot up the last of the film and to get some clementinen to eat at the airport. Nothing special at Notre Dame to photograph, but there’s a bronze of Charlemagne in the courtyard. I envy their beards! and detest the men – look at the axe the henchman is carrying!
The Conciergerie was not yet open. Back up through the town, found a microscopic supermarché for some clementinen. Checked out of the hotel, schlepped our stuff to the Luxembourg station. The tickets cost FF98, more than we paid coming in from the airport. So maybe we really did under-pay. In that case, how come Jacky’s ticket got her out through the gate? A mystery, definitely.
Checking in for our flight was quick and easy. A comfortable wait, and then we got onto the plane, which was only about 25% full. I can see why ticket prices are low!
Jacky discovered someone’s wallet on her seat, presumably having slipped out of the back pocket of whoever sat there on the inbound flight. No money, but credit cards and identification. Gave it to the Air France people, who tried to find the owner on board. I hope they handed it over to their landside people – the owner may well have already enquired after it. He’s likely to have a problem in Paris without it!
Then Jacky found a magazine with his name and address in the seat pocket, upstate New York. When we got home, she called information, got his number, called and left a message for him. He seems to have been a retired gent. If he, or anyone, was checking messages, it would help him track his wallet down.
Weather had been blowing over Paris all day, everything from brilliant sunlight to darkest gloom, but no precipitation. As we taxied out, a snow flurry set in. It was so thick you could hardly see the wing! Only just enough to whiten the ground, but it stuck on the aircraft, windows and wings. That means de-icing.
We could see a pretty elaborate de-icing rig, horizontal booms from either side, between which aircraft could roll while being sprayed. We were number 2 for de-icing.
But the Charles de Gaulle staff hadn’t expected a snow flurry – in February they don’t expect snow? So the de-icing station wasn’t manned. The captain assured us repeatedly over the PA that the de-icing crew would be there any moment. Meantime the snow flurry blew over.
After two hours, the air had warmed up enough that the ice melted itself off the aircraft. There never was a de-icing crew. Too bad we hadn’t been ten minutes earlier – we would have avoided the whole thing. An adventure.
We always tell ourselves that we’ll go indoors if the weather is bad. It’s rare, however, for the weather to be so bad that we really do go indoors. Partly it’s because we’re cheap, but we’re really not hard-core museum and gallery people. We’d rather be out there seeing the real world, such as it is.
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