Where There's a Will, There's a Way (or, Do Your Research and Be Flexible) - Wednesday, 1 Oct.

Everything was packed, garbage was taken downstairs, everything in the apartment was put back in its place, and I was turning the key in the lock to take myself and my suitcases down to meet the shuttle driver (early!), and my phone rang. It was the shuttle company. They had bad news – my driver’s vehicle had broken down – I should call a cab to take me to the airport and they’d refund me my fee. Rats. A wrinkle. I’m OK with things not going as planned during the core of the vacation, but a little less OK with things going awry relative to transportation to the airport for the return flight home – there’s a bit less wiggle room.

But I was planning to grab a café crème at the corner café while waiting for the shuttle driver, so I thought I’d ask the waiter to make the call for me while I was enjoying my crème – he’d be better at giving the address, etc. When I asked him if he’d do so, he looked at me like I was some kind of crazy tourist – he explained that there was a taxi stand just down the block. I tried to explain to say that yes, but two suitcases plus a carryon plus my jumbo purse were a bit much for me to haul to the taxi queue. He agreed to help, but instead of calling a taxi on the phone he started looking down the street, trying to hail one as it drove by, frequently expressing frustration when the only ones that went by were occupied. Of course, he also had friends to greet on the sidewalk and people to serve who sat down, and an available taxi drove by at least three times when he happened to be greeting a friend or had stepped inside. I’m not sure what his problem was with making a phone call to get a taxi, but after about 20 minutes of this I decided to head for the taxi queue.

So off I set. I should have stopped at the cash machine across the street to ensure that I had enough for the taxi (the shuttle had been pre-paid), but one less street to lug my bags across was one more good thing (and I didn’t want to leave the bags sitting at the café). My wide load and I slowly proceeded down the sidewalk for about four blocks, providing a morning frustration to people who had to wait to get around me in sections where portions of the sidewalk were under construction. But finally, after crossing one more busy street, I reached the taxi queue in a little island in the middle of the giant “Place de la République.” I waited just a few minutes for an available taxi to stop, and the driver had an animated conversation with another potential fare while putting my bags in the trunk, but eventually we were off! (I discovered later, when looking at my detailed street map again, that there was indeed another taxi queue only about a block from the café, behind the bank in which the cash machine was located. No wonder the waiter thought I was crazy – I was! So the lesson from this is “take the time to pull out your map!”)

But anyhoo, off we went to the airport. I asked the driver if he accepted Visa – he said yes, although he clearly wasn’t an English speaker. He stopped once to pick up a piece of fruit for himself at a market, and traffic in town was, as usual, stop-and-go-and-wait, but traffic moved well once we reached the highway to the airport, so it wasn’t too much of a problem, schedule-wise. The driver was very friendly – he was making plans to visit many relatives in Canada, so he had an audio (British) English-language course going in the car. I joined in the fun of repeating the phrases and answering the questions.

When we arrived at the airport I gave him my Visa to pay, and he said no, no, he didn’t take Visa – cash only. And I was about 20€ short. So I had to run into the airport, looking for the cash machine to give him the rest of his fee. Found it, transaction done, now it was a matter of standing in the long queue for checkin. Happily, this went smoothly, although it was long and I knew it was another long walk to the gate, with probable delays at passport check and security (I was right), leaving little-to-no time for perusing the goods at the duty-free shops!

The flight back was smooth, and I was seated in a row with a French mom and her two little girls (they appeared to be about two and four years old). The older one would occasionally poke me and say, “madame, madame, …” asking for help with her video system or asking for one of the cookies I brought on board, or showing me the book she was reading. Very cute. She even stood up on her chair and addressed the flight attendant this way, asking (unsuccessfully) for some food she wanted. Just before we landed the mom asked me if I had a air sickness bag in my seat pouch – she was sure that the younger one, sitting next to me at the time, was about to puke. I didn’t, nor did anyone around me, so the poor kid ended up puking all over her cute little shirt (a favorite, apparently) that had a little kitty on it. She cried softly and kept saying “désolé, désolé” (“sorry, sorry”) to the kitty on her shirt. So sweet!

It turns out that one of my suitcases (on international flights you can check two – such a luxury these days!) decided to fly to Minneapolis via Amsterdam, so it will be delivered to my house on Thursday. And my cat Cyrus the Great gets to spend one more day with his friend Nancy at Cat Nap Inn since some emergency arose for her and I wasn’t able to pick him up on Wednesday evening. But all in all, the “will” found the “way” and my journey ended happily.

Cool Scenes Around Town - Tuesday, 30 Sept.

Just outside the Pompidou museum sits a large “cēment pond” (as Jed Clampett used to call it) with wild and crazy water-powered and water-spouting twirling sculptures. In the summer it’s swarmed with kids, entertaining them for hours. Not too many of them around today, a cloudy schoolday, which gave me a good opportunity to get a shot of it! It’s also called the Stravinsky Fountain, or the “Fontaine des Automates,” but I think “cēment pond” is perfectly fitting!

The "big giant head" outside the church of Saint-Eustache has been one of my favorite outdoor sculptures for many years. It's also a favorite of kids, who can't seem to refrain from climbing up its fingers and ear and nose and eyeball to sit on top of its head! And those are STONES beneath it (onto which the kids might fall). And those are nervous parents, taking pictures of their brave kids! I just learned that the sculpture is by Henri de Miller and is called "Écoute" ("listening"), although "big giant head" works well too, I think.

For almost 10 years the 500-year-old Tour Saint-Jacques, in the very center of town on rue de Rivoli, has been hidden behind scaffolding and tarp during its 8.3 million euro (about $12.5 million) restoration. The scaffolding has now been removed (although elements of the restoration will continue until early next year) and WOW! what a sight! And hopefully it’s safe (the current restoration project began after chunks of stone fell off the façade, endangering passers-by). Not only has it been cleaned and stabilized, but some of the decorative flourishes and sculptures have been re-carved. A tour of this “Tour” is high on my list for my next trip!

And here are just a couple more shots that I took on Sunday: A view of the Seine (with the Eiffel tower in the distance) from my favorite bridge, Pont Neuf; a shot across the bridge to the backside of the buildings encompassing Place Dauphine, one of the most gorgeous squares in Paris (I can't believe there was a break in the traffic so I could take this!); and my former favorite department store, the Samaritaine, which sits at the north end of Pont Neuf (one of the most spectacular locations in town) - it was closed suddenly and without notice in 2005 due to some alleged fire and structural problems. The official word is that the building is being repaired and will re-open in 2011 as a store, but rumors are also circulating that it will be turned into VERY high-priced apartments.

Nobody Mistook Me for a Fashionista! - Tuesday, 30 Sept.

Just down the block from my apartment stands this large iron and glass structure that appears to have seen better days. Apparently the city is starting to renovate it, but it still seems to offer a huge open covered space for concerts, shows, sports, etc. It’s called Carreau du Temple, and for the last several days there have been teams of workmen there – I peeked through a temporarily open door over the weekend to see them setting up what appeared to be a series of risers running parallel to a wide center aisle. As I was walking back to the apartment last night, streams of people were flooding onto my little quiet street (some with official-looking ID cards strung around their necks, some with cameras and tripods, etc.), chauffeurs were standing next to fancy cars, the handful of cafes on my street were packed, big trailers were parked next to the building, and don’t-mess-with-me-looking security guys were standing around here and there. Parisians are, in general, quite fashionable (and I do my best, not always successfully, to avoid being an eyesore and standing out as an obvious tourist), but the crowd streaming down the sidewalk towards the Carreau du Temple were extremely beautiful and well adorned – not “screaming” wealth and luxury, but perfectly put together and sharp and healthy looking!

Well, as you might have guessed, it turns out that this is Fashion Week (for spring 2009 fashions) in Paris, and the crowd was assembling for Yohji Yamamoto’s show. On Wednesday night Givenchy’s show will be there (bummer that I will have left town by then – what a crowd that’s likely to be!) and on Thursday it’s Stella McCartney’s show, and on Saturday it’s Kenzo’s show. Holy buckets! It’s like one long crescendo!

Stages like this are being set up all over town. This is BIG BUSINESS, and I was heretofore largely ignorant of the scope of it! Ya live and learn, don’tcha know!


I took the photo of the building just before I sat down for a café crème (what they call cappuccino here). Thought you might like to see how beautifully they serve it - I love the layering, and it's much more elegant than a Starbuck's paper cup!

Like to Wallpaper? Need a Job? - Monday, 29 Sept.

At every metro stop and throughout the maze of metro tunnels you’ll find large billboards promoting a huge range of products, services and entertainment opportunities. These are usually “framed” by tiles and are made up of multiple approx. 2’x3’ “wallpaper” sections that together make up the ad.

While waiting for my train in the Temple metro stop today, a worker got off the train going the other direction. He carried a bucket full of water, ladder, brush, wallpaper rectangles (i.e., sections of a new billboard to be posted) and a few other tools and began unfolding, wetting, then refolding them (sticky side in), making a pile of the new sections to replace the ad currently there. Wonder how many of these he has to do in a day! Wonder how sick he gets of spending all day in one metro tunnel or train or another. I’ll have to go back tomorrow to see the new ad.

En Plus Haute Cuisine - Monday, 29 Sept.

Ten small courses of the best food in the world, flowing perfectly from one to the next – what a way to wile away the afternoon! I did so today at l’Atelier de Joël Robuchon, a restaurant I’ve wanted to try since it opened in 2003. In its first couple years you couldn’t make a reservation, and you had to stand in a long line outside to wait for the next open stool (there are 36 of them) at the counter that surrounds the cooking/plating area. Woolworth’s lunch counter it ain’t, although more than once that image of efficient and friendly food service came to mind! Today I made a reservation online, and when I arrived a bit early they were able to squeeze me in to an available stool at the very end of the bar, right against the wall – a perfect spot for a shy Swede who wants to be able to swoon over the food without it being obvious to everyone! My stool gave me an excellent bird’s-eye (gourmet’s-eye?) view of the half-dozen handsome young male cooks working in a somewhat confined prep/plating area (clearly, additional cooking and baking happens in the kitchen behind this prep area, and I saw one female cook who came out towards the end of the afternoon). The restaurant and uniforms are all done in snazzy red and black. It’s located at 5, rue de Montalembert at the Hôtel du Port Royal, very close to the rue du Bac metro stop in the 7th arrondissement. Save your nickels and dimes, boys and girls. This is a must do! Eat sandwiches and takeout food during the rest of your trip so that you can splurge on lunch or dinner created by one of the world’s very greatest chefs (some say the best) and his colleagues Eric Bouchenoire, Philippe Braun and Eric Lecerf (cuisine), François Benot (pastry) and Antoine Hernandez (sommelier), and flawlessly executed by his excellent staff.


The menu offers a wide variety of classic and totally inventive items, some in a small tapas-size portion and others in a big main-course size portion (they appear to be happy to let you share with your friends). They also have a tasting menu (my pick!) – these ten courses are all small, and they take your palate on a well-designed journey of flavors, textures and temperatures. They offer a wide variety of wines and other beverages (some people close to me even ordered diet Coke!).

I ordered the 2003 Château Séran, a red Bordeaux from the Médoc region and some Badoit, my favorite sparkling mineral water, to accompany my lunch.

The first dish was cauliflower “crème” with crab – a clean and velvety-smooth pureed thick cauliflower and potato (I believe) soup, served chilled in a frosted espresso cup with a large mound of perfectly seasoned shredded crab and a sprinkling of fresh herbs. It was sweet and pure, and I was oh-so-happy to have nice slices of crusty, porous baguette to soak up the last few drops of it!

Next came another chilled soup, but with an entirely different character – a puréed gazpacho with a scattering of micro-basil leaves, a few drops of balsamic, and some small buttery crunchy croutons. It was zingy, tasting of tomatoes, hot peppers, garlic, onion, herbs, crème fraîche, and a touch of vinegar.

And then some more crab, but this time it was wonderfully sweet chunks of king crab, lightly dressed in a smoky and peppery paprika sauce, served sandwiched between very thin slices of white radish.

By this time I felt like some cartoon character whose eyes had twirled around in their sockets and whose head had sprouted flowers from the wonderfulness of these courses and the way the wine married with each of them in different ways, revealing different characteristics of itself and of the food. But the next dish, “egg,” would have knocked me off my stool if I had not been able to lean against the wall! It was a perfectly poached egg served in a deep frosted glass footed ramekin with warm puréed spinach, cream, perfectly cooked Chanterelle mushrooms, mushroom foam and herbs. I don’t know what they feed these French hens, but the yolk of the egg was orange, rich, sweet and pure. The whole dish was warming and sweetly satisfying, earthy but in a restrained, classy way! With this course the wine revealed a gorgeous fruity aspect of its character.


This was followed by some more restrained earthiness – a generous portion of perfectly seared duck foie gras, served over some toothy white beans, topped with a couple thin homemade potato chips, and sprinkled with a few herbs. What a wonder that God would create such an animal and man would figure out a way to fatten its liver so. Rich, unctuous, indulgent, and pure fat – who says this isn’t good for you?!? Send ‘em my way, and I’ll have a word with them!

Next came a small portion of seared Morue (cod) served with julienned cooked carrot, mushrooms and zucchini, and dressed with a bit of paprika sauce. The fish was soft, steaky and slightly oily. The whole dish felt warm, comforting, and good for whatever ailed you!

Then, my “main” dish – dark, sweet, rich quail with Robuchon’s famous potato purée topped with a couple thin slices of truffle. The plate had been dressed with a few drops of intense triple-reduced demi-glace (probably made with roasted quail and other poultry bones) – don’t overlook this explosion of flavor when you’re eating this dish! A mound of amazing chervil accompanied this – light as a feather, it tasted as if it had been slightly oven-dried and then sprinkled with a few drops of vegetable consommé. With this dish the wine revealed all of its character – its delicious fruit, its earthiness and dark herbaceousness (if there is such a word), its cleansing and balancing character.

Now it was time for dessert! And they served two of them! The first was a scoop of slightly chilled sweet sabayon crème with a small oval scoop (a classic shape called a quenelle) of amazing herb sorbet (tarragon, mint, parsley, basil), diced pineapple, and a thin crescent of caramel.

The second dessert was a scoop of vanilla crème, a quenelle of raspberry sorbet, a few fresh raspberries, some very thick raspberry coulis, and a thin disk of dark chocolate.

Coffee (espresso) with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a homemade caramel finished the meal. I felt absolutely “graced” and contented, not stuffed by this tour of spectacular French cuisine. The bill came to only 134.50€ (about $200), a bargain for two hours of the best entertainment you can find! It was an extra blessing for me since it was underwritten by my friend Leah Harding, who traveled to Paris with me in April – we were planning to eat at one of Robuchon’s restaurants, but just failed to squeeze it in to our schedule – so Leah gave me the cash and ORDERED me to use it on this trip!

I also very highly recommend his other restaurant, Le Table de Joël Robuchon. It’s a little more out-of-the-way (at least relative to where I usually hang out) in the 16th arrondissement at 16, Avenue Bugeaud. It offers gracious, warm, beautiful, calm table seating, a more formal and relaxed atmosphere with a similar menu – a better choice for a special occasion dinner and quiet conversation. But for a slightly more informal experience, perfect for the solo diner, l’Atelier takes the top prize!

Franklin, Jefferson and Other Nice People - Sunday, 28 Sept.

Le Procope at 13, rue de l’Ancienne-Comédie, was founded in 1686 – it is apparently the oldest restaurant in the world. Voltaire, Molière, Diderot, Thomas Jefferson and Ben Franklin all ate here. The food isn’t the best in town (by a long shot), but it sure is fun to think that you might be sitting right where Jefferson or Franklin once sat! A gentleman dining alone was seated next to me so we struck up a conversation. Mr. Tuğrul Kudatgobilik is the President of the Turkish Confederation of Employer Associations – he travels around the world on business and to the U.S. frequently to see his daughter and American son-in-law in NY City (she met him while working in Washington D.C. one summer during her college years). His English was very good, so we were able to talk about traveling, the economy, politics, life and food and culture in Turkey and in Minnesota, etc.


Just across from us there was a display case with a hat that looked downright Napoleonic. (Sorry for the blurry photo, but I hope you can make it out!) We were speculating on its story – had it really belonged to Napoleon? Had he dined here too? Had he forgotten it one night after drinking too much? Mr. K. thought that perhaps he had left it in payment for his food one night when he was broke (I said ya, sure, Napoleon broke…ha!). So I asked the maître d’, who said that indeed it was one of Napoleon’s hats, and he had given it in payment for his coffee years before he crowned himself Emperor. Gosh! And I had to pay with real money!

Waiters in Paris are very professional - it's not just a job to pay for college, it's a career. Just before I left I observed a waiter carrying in a couple platters of oysters-on-ice. He had a towel draped over his forearm, and it fell. Without missing a step, while it was still in mid-air and before anyone (else) could see, he gave it a quick soccer kick to underneath an unoccupied table. SCORE!

A Little Glimpse of Heaven - Sunday, 28 Sept.

The American Church in Paris, established in 1857 on the banks of the Seine at 65, quai d'Orsay, is my favorite Sunday haunt. It’s a non-denominational Protestant church with a very fine preacher and organ/organist, choir, program and building. It seems to be the home of English-speaking expatriates from all over the world – I’ve rarely seen a more racially mixed congregation. People are very friendly and they have a coffee hour after the service each Sunday. They also host concerts on many Sunday afternoons and have extensive services (a job board, housing announcements, classes, discussion groups, etc.) for English speaking people.

This weekend and next they’re celebrating the 20th anniversary of the installation of their magnificent Beckerath pipe organ with a series of special recitals. This evening Pascal Marsault, a French organist who, as a student at The Paris Conservatory practiced on the ACP organ (and even rang in their adult handbell choir), gave a spectacular (free!) recital of music by Bach, Dupré, Couperin, Alain, Messiaen, de Grigny, Bruhns and Widor. Attendees perused photographs, drawings, letters and donor lists from the building and installation of the organ as they sipped champagne or juice in the theatre adjacent to the sanctuary after the recital.

Mr. Marsault had just played the opening passage of the Bach Toccata & Fugue in D Minor, and in that very short moment of silence before it jumps down an octave, a police car drove by outside, siren blaring! The ee-ooo ee-ooo ee-ooo of the siren wasn’t EXACTLY in D Minor, but it was close! A few chuckles were heard in the audience (and maybe even some from the organ bench).

But I was brought to tears by the Allegro (first movement) of Charles-Marie Widor’s Organ Symphony #6. You probably all know the majestic and triumphant Tocatta from his Organ Symphony #5 – if you’re lucky enough to be at a church with a good organ and organist it might just be the postlude at your Easter service. But, oh, my goodness, the sixth symphony. Wow. If the fifth brings images of Christ’s resurrection, the sixth evokes images (at least for me) of our own resurrections on “the last day.” Christ descends with a commanding loud exclamation, souls start rumbling and emerging from their deep graves, they dance with great joy while rising higher and higher, bones start clicking (I’ll have to ask my organist friends how this clicking sound is created during some rapid passage work on the wooden pipes), there are some passages that sound like final battles, and then the movement ends with glorious and victorious confidence. And so shall we ever be with the Lord!

Grand Vin de Bordeaux - Saturday, 27 Sept.

I picked up a bottle of 2005 Château Malromé at Monoprix (the discount “everything” store around the corner) this morning - it had a typical Bordeaux blend, and sported a silver medal award sticker from "2007 Challenge International du Vin." It was on a special promotion shelf - I thought the label said 9.95€ (about $15), so I figured - hey, I can't go wrong. So tonight I'm drinking it (it's pretty decent) while munching on some bread, sausage and cheese and entering today’s purchases into my little spreadsheet, only to discover that I paid 4.95€ for it. I was right - I couldn't go wrong! I love it here!

Librairie Marelle - Saturday, 27 Sept.

As I was walking through the neighborhood today, I discovered that I had apparently opened a bookstore without knowing it, and it was one that was especially attractive to bikers! (Just click on the photo for a closeup.) OK, OK, so the owner doesn’t spell her name exactly correctly, but it gave me a bit of a jolt! Hmmm…maybe it’s something I should consider….

Marché des Enfants Rouges - Saturday, 27 Sept.

Just a few blocks from my apartment is Marché des Enfants Rouges at 39, rue de Bretagne. It’s the oldest food market in Paris, built in 1615 under the rule of King Louis XIII. The name literally means “Market of the Red Children,” which referred to a nearby 17th century orphanage where the children wore red uniforms. It’s an outdoor covered market tucked behind some other shops – you enter through one of two small iron gates that are easy to miss! You find the usual (for Paris!) assortment of fish mongers, cheese shops, Italian delis, meat shops, fruit/vegetable stands, florists, olive vendors, ham/sausage shops, wine shops and bakeries in this area, but you’ll also find several stands with prepared (on site) middle eastern, Greek, Italian and Japanese food and French bistro fare. Wooden and plastic tables and chairs line the perimeter – not too glamorous, but lots of people appeared to be ordering prepared foods for “take out” to the tables! It’s a bit skuzzy, but I would be too if I were 400 years old! (Actually, the market was renovated in the ‘80’s, but it makes a good story to say that it’s 400 years old, n’est-ce pas?)

Parks - Friday, 26 Sept.

One of my (very) many favorite things in Paris is the abundance of small parks and squares all over the place. Square du Temple is just a block from my apartment – its mature trees (a wide variety of species), small pond with waterfall, greenery (with a splash of floral color here and there) playground, giant sandbox, bandstand, lush lawn, and meandering paths offer babies, moms, school kids, office workers, old folks and tourists (!) a great place to hang out, read a book, chat with friends, relax, eat lunch, feed birds, make business deals, soak in the sunshine, play chess. So restorative! Hopefully no drug deals are going down – I didn’t see any, but then I didn’t look for any!

Dessert, Anyone? - Friday, 26 Sept.

Cake baking not your specialty? No problem! Just move to Paris and have one of thousands of expert bakers do it for you! Sorry for the glare in this photo – I didn’t dare go into this bakery for fear of not being able to carry everything back to the apartment!







A cheesemonger on rue de Bretagne had not only fabulous, perfectly aged cheeses but also this swell “vache sac” reusable shopping bag. I can just imagine the envy in the eyes of my fellow shoppers at Linden Hills Coop when I get home! (Hey, maybe I'll even bring it with me to Surdyk's cheese shop.)

Afternoon Tea - Thursday, 25 Sept.

Even “little” things like an afternoon tea break are done with great style here in Paris. I stopped at “le Temple” on rue de Turbigo for “thé chaud au lait,” and it was brought on a cute pierced heart-shaped porcelain bowl/platter – a pot of hot water, a pitcher of warm milk, some packets of sugar, a funky mug (although usually it’s a cup and saucer), and a Madeleine cake. Such warmth. Such style. Check it out!

The Apartment - Wednesday, 24 Sept

The apartment I'm renting is cozy. The kitchen has a better stove, oven and fridge than I’ve seen in a long time, so I’ll have to be sure to do some cooking! And I love the small rail mounted on the edge of the countertop. The bed is up some open-stairs-without-a-railing in a small short loft, so I think I’ll be sleepin’ on the sofa bed. (The good news is that the steps provide a convenient place to pile my books and magazines!) There’s a computer in the apartment, but it has the French keyboard, so I’m glad that I brought my laptop. The apartment hadn’t been cleaned when I arrived early in the morning, but happily I was here when the cleaner came and she was able to give me the password for the wireless access (otherwise it would have taken a while to figure it out, looking for little stickers on the equipment or notes left behind by previous users of the apartment).

A roomy wooden elevator rides in an open black-iron-mesh-caged shaft – I could fit myself and my two suitcases in it comfortably! (If these old Parisian buildings have been retrofitted with elevators, most of them are TINY - barely big enough for a person plus one small suitcase. So this one is most welcome!)

The post office is right across the street, a bank across another street, a Monoprix around the corner (it’s the ubiquitous French discount store that has EVERYTHING including food and wine), several little cafes and restaurants within a couple blocks, a couple charming little leafy parks and squares, etc. Lots of opportunity for exploration close to home!

The weather is lovely –in the 60’s, with intermittent clouds against a bright blue sky. When the sun slips behind a cloud it gets a bit chilly and damp, but then it’s so warming when the sun returns! At a café down the street I saw blankets draped across a few of the chairs – for patrons’ use while they’re there – I haven’t seen that since my trip to Stockholm in 1999 – such a charming and gracious amenity!

And just to prove that I'm here, I took a picture of myself with my cellphone camera when I was taking an afternoon tea break at a cafe on my street, rue Dupetit-Thouars.

The Neighborhood - Wednesday, 24 Sept

My apartment is in the north side of the Marais district – a busy and lively neighborhood, with lots of students (there must be an art school nearby – many of them are carrying big black nylon portfolio bags) and people of every age and color and social strata. Many neighborhoods in Paris have distinct characters or primary businesses. My neighborhood seems to specialize in storefront jewelry wholesalers – I walked past a dozen of them in just a couple blocks. Most of them have a sign saying “vente en gros” and some say “licence exigée” and some “min 100 euro.” Later this week I just might try to buy something to see how tightly they follow these regulations! Watches, gold and silver chains and bangles, earrings, necklaces, etc. all beckon me! Here is a photo of some of the wholesalers along rue du Temple.


















My Metro stop is just about a block away - it's called "Temple" - how appropriate for a child of Temple Baptist Church in Duluth! Here's a photo of the metro entrance, with the huge statue in the square "Republic" in the background.

Paris Arrival - Early Wednesday Morning, 24 Sept.

For the first time in several years my flight was actually able to pull up to a gate with a jetway at Charles de Gaulle (no parking the plane way out on the tarmac, slogging down the stairs, bumping along in a bus to the underbelly of the terminal, trying to find the way past grungy equipment and cleaning supplies to the passport check and baggage claim...). However, the gate was way out there! It felt like six blocks of corridors, then down an escalator and onto a train, then down some more corridors and a couple more escalators (how deep in the earth were we going?!?) and another corridor to the maze of red-strapped-crowd-control barriers (despite the fact that it was 7:15 a.m. and there was no crowd, we dutifully zig-zagged back and forth through the maze instead of walking a direct shot to the passport officers). Then it was down just one more escalator to the baggage claim with its plentiful free luggage trolleys, and the bags were already there (of course it HAD been quite a long walk). Then it was just an easy saunter past the customs agents to the Illy bar for my first café crème of the trip!

I always take a shared shuttle from the airport to the apartment I’m renting (very convenient door-to-door service, and the drivers are always nice and helpful). Sometimes there’s a short wait, but this time it arrived within a couple minutes; the bad news is that there had been an accident on the A1 expressway and the traffic was very slow. But hey, I’m in no hurry…I’m on vacation!

While we were moving very slowly in the traffic a cute little boxy car drove by (er, um, I guess a person in a cute little boxy car drove by) – the shuttle driver said it was a Fiat 500 from the ‘60’s, and that Fiat had just started reproducing them using the same design. I looked at the Fiat website, and the new ones don’t appear to be the same (e.g., much more of a sloping windshield rather than the boxy one from the ‘60’s), but I’ll have to keep my eyes open for one on the streets to see how they look in person.