Sixteen: Oui oui! Non non!

Christmas in Paris. To break up the drive, we stayed overnight in Lille. Lille was quaint, with a typical European city center, a ferris wheel (like Paris), lots of bistros and brasseries, and a festive Christmas Market. There was good shopping. Apparently they are trying to cultivate a reputation as a "hip" fashion center (vs. Paris' more traditional couture). The streets were packed with Christmas revelers. We stopped in a few bistros and cafes. An orchestra was playing Christmas tunes on the steps of the opera house.

In the morning we grabbed some good croissants at a bakery near our hotel and hit the road. Lille had a cute little scene, but we were ready for our Parisian adventure.

Paris. Hmmmm. What to say. I had been there for about 24 hours during that backpacking/ hosteling European tour that introduced me to Amsterdam, but because our stay was so brief (we had to get to Italy, of course) I didn't get a good feel for it. First impression this time around: Huge. Grand. Very well-lit. Scary, scary drivers and...interesting road rules. A near heart-attack trying to find our hotel and then a nearby parking garage (the hotel concierge unceremoniously informed Kim that, no, he would not draw a map illustrating how to get to the garage, because it was very simple. But of course it was not. Jackass).

After we managed (45 minutes later) to locate the garage, check in and unpack, we went looking for a French/English dictionary and map by arrondissement (neighborhood) which is how everything in Paris is organized. I used my French (sort of) to ask the concierge where to go. His response was... without frills.

As we walked to the bookstore, we began a dialog that would last the length of our stay; are the French rude, or are they just direct and uninclined to disingenuous courtesy? Daily, I did my part to elicit some smiles and chiding from clerks and cashiers, employing my sad and sorry "French", which did improve over the course of our visit. Results were mixed. Some were amused, some not. Some were patient, some not. Some wanted to chat, some did not. But can't this be said of every big city? And it was Christmas after all, a chaos which rarely inspires patience.

Later that afternoon the concierge helped us secure dinner reservations at 4o4, a popular Moroccan restaurant near our hotel. At first they pretended they could not seat us, but after some cajoling by the concierge they agreed. This particular Frenchman was growing on us.

We had some time to kill before dinner, so we explored our neighborhood a bit. It was on the east edge of the 3rd arrondissement, in a sort of garment district-y part of town. There were a surprising number of aging prostitutes. We fell upon a quirky bar called Vins de Proprietes. There was hardly anyone in it which is exactly how we like it. There was the owner, the bartender, and a man who was either a very long-time customer or good friend of the owner. The long-time customer /friend started buying us glasses of wine. I kept trying to tell him to stop (arret! arret!), that we had reservations and had to leave, that Kim was allergic to alcohol, but all we got in response was more wine and laughter. We resorted to pouring glasses out on the sidewalk when they weren't looking. When it became obvious that the wine was taking its toll, they brought us ham and peanuts. They had a George Bush joke hanging behind the bar (see picture). The proprietor's attempts to translate it were hysterical (I'm going to let you decipher it for yourselves, people). We had a good laugh at George's expense. They all knew exactly how many days he had left.

We finally managed our escape, and after a quick stop for cafe au laits (this happened a lot during our visit) found our way to 404. Everything about 404 was fantastic. The food, the attractive waitstaff, the atmosphere. We sat next to an American woman/French guy couple who gave us some sightseeing and shopping tips.

The next day we walked down Rue de Rivoli and had breakfast at Angelina. They are famous (deservedly so) for their hot chocolate. I think it ruined us for all other hot chocolate ever. We tried to go to the Louvre but it was closed (Tuesdays). It was a sunny day, so we crossed the Seine to see the stained glass at Sainte Chapelle. Entry is expensive and the chapel is small, but the stained glass is worth it. Afterwards we made our way back to the hotel via Montaigne, loaded with fishmongers, fruit stands and pattiseries. We ate dinner at Paul Bert (steaks and frites). The food was good but not spectacular, and unfortunately the cabbie who took us opted for the scenic route. He drove us around for half an hour. We realized we had been duped when the ride home took less than 5 minutes. On the bright side, this experience prompted us to learn the metro system, which we agree is one of the easiest we've ever used. The accordion music is a bonus.

On Christmas Eve we took the metro to Champs-Elysees. We had breakfast at Laduree (a patisserie). There was a line out the door for the pastry shop (their macaroons are very popular Christmas gifts) but the tea salon was empty. The door man flipped attitude and actually rolled his eyes at a question posed in English, so I switched to French and we got in. Pastries, cafe au laits, and then our first macaroons. These things are incredible. Why don't they make them like this in the states? They are pretty and tasty (see photo). We would go on to try them at every patisserie we visited. We shopped along the Champs Elysees, visited the Arc d'Triumph, then walked to Galleries Lafayette. It was last minute Christmas shopping chaos! The lighting displays and famous glass dome were spectacular. We stopped in Maison du Chocolate for an eclair (good but overpriced), then Lafayette Gourmet. Those of you who appreciate places like Dean & DeLuca would love this place. We picked up a baguette, some smoked salmon and chevre, and of course some macaroons and chocolates for breakfast on Christmas day. We had dinner reservations at Chez George (another steak place), but finding a cab was impossible so we took the metro. This resulted in a late arrival and more walking than we would've liked in our pretty shoes, but the meal (an appetizer of duck confit, a rare steak and pork loin, followed by a trio of pots de creme) was perfectly prepared. Then it was off to the Crazy Horse.

We were seated in front of a group of men from Shanghai. Kim chatted with them a little in Mandarin and Shanghainese. One of their party managed to sleep through the entire performance. We supposed the show was good as far as these things go, but couldn't seem to stop over-analyzing their costumes, trying to determine their ages, noting different amounts of body hair, and reflecting on how they probably never expected to be doing this for a living. Dreams of dancing in the Paris ballet and such. Damn you, brain! After the show, the "door man" - who wore a red cape, jodhpurs and a ranger hat - was spectacularly unhelpful. I said, "Pouvez-vous m'appeller un taxi?" He responded that no, he could not, but that there was a taxi stand on the corner. What??? Man, they have a different idea of service, don't they? I mean I know I'm 36 now and have begun the inevitable slide toward invisibility, but come on, Kim should still be able to get some attention, right? We went to the taxi stand. There were many people but no taxis. It was very cold. People were agitated. The few cabs that passed had passengers who smiled and pointed. "Imbeciles!" their smiles said. I asked someone about the metro, and they told me it closed at midnight on Christmas Eve. What??? What sort of international city has no cabs and no metro at midnight even if it is Christmas Eve? Paris was losing major points. Finally a cab pulled up. A group that had waited longer than us got in. Then another cab pulled up, and Kim grabbed the door handle. A man came barrelling over, shoved her out of the way, and jumped in the cab. Holy crap! Is this how it's gonna go? Ok, it's dog eat dog. We got it. And we also got the next cab, though it wasn't exactly easy.

On Christmas day we ate our chevre and smoked salmon which was very good, but not quite as mind blowing as the salmon from New York City's Russ & Daughters. We went to George Pompidou for some thought-provoking modern art. Kim said, "half this crap has no business being in a museum." Ah, the subjective nature of art. The building itself is really cool, and has all sorts of different things to do. Cafe, cinema, library, shop, museum, and a restaurant that is supposed to be excellent though we didn't have time to try it. We were off to Notre Dame to hear the organ. Notre Dame is impressive, but now we've seen about four or five cathedrals from the same era. The organ recital started slow but finished with the sternum-vibrating baritone registers we were hoping for.

Dinner at Bofinger. Oysters, choucroute (kraut) with duck, sausage, various cuts of pork (the house specialty) and spicy mustard. This meal might have been my favorite though our concierge later told us that Lipp, which offers similar fare, is the place to go.

The day after Christmas we took the metro out to the 20th arrondissement for breakfast at Maison Kayser. Here we had the best croissant and pain au chocolate ever. EVER. We also tried a mille fuille (layers of puff pastry and filling - in this case citrus). So tasty. Then we took the metro to Le Marais, an old Jewish neighborhood in the 3rd/4th arondissements. This was my favorite neighborhood. Lots of delis, boutiques, and yarmulkes. Reviews say the best falafel/shwarma can be found here, but we missed our chance because we were too full on croissant. The only bummer was that is was too cold to fully explore the many hidden and winding streets.

For dinner we stopped in one of the Chinese noodle shops near our hotel (la mein); it was our first affordable meal in Paris, and our first Chinese food since arriving in Europe! Homemade beef noodle soup and dumplings.

We decided to stay an extra day, returning to Galleries Lafayette with hopes that the crowd had thinned. One of the salesmen we encountered was quite friendly and chatty; he and I decided that I would speak in French and he would speak in English so we could both practice. This fellow had a dry sense of humor. He kept exclaiming "Non, Obama has not won, no. McCain is much better, because of Palin, yes?" He told us Obama would use the white house as a crash pad for his friends. He would put rims on the Presidential limo. He delivered these proclamations with a straight face. The only indications that he was joking were his long dreadlocks, punk-rock outfit, cocoa skin and general "cool" vibe. He said he didn't like Paris, New York or L.A. They were full of pretension. When asked what city he did like, he answered, "Germany is tres cool!" We talked about Seattle. We said, "Seattle's coffee is better than any coffee we've had in Paris." He chuckled for 5 minutes and wagged his finger at us. He said, "Go to St. Germain. This will be the best coffee". Other Paris regulars had also recommended St. Germain, so away we went. We did find some good coffee but still contend you can find comparable cups in Seattle (for about half the price). Along St. Germain we saw quite a few places on our list of recommendations; Lipp, Deux Maggots, and Cafe Flora, but they were all so hoppin' that we were too overwhelmed to go in. Just more motivation to return in warmer weather!

For dinner we scoped out the George Pompidou neighborhood where there is quite a scene in the evening. We landed in a casual Moroccan cafe with live music. The food (chicken tagine, roast veggies and broth with cous cous) was good and cheap. We had planned to go out later - to experience the night life - but were so exhausted from our week of walking, shopping, eating eating and eating that we crashed instead.

The next morning we headed for home, now relative experts of the rules of the road. We cut off other drivers, shouted "merde!" out the window, and wove aggressively through traffic with no regard for designated lanes. Our conclusion was, even though we had stayed a week, that Paris is simply too grand to evaluate in a single visit. We'll need to return to form a proper opinion of the place.