In early March friends and neighbors Mark and Tanya flew in from Seattle. We saw Hot Chip at Paradiso, strolled around downtown Amsterdam, then caught the high speed (3.5 hours) train to Paris. We stayed in Paris' Red Light District, near the Moulin Rouge. It's vaguely seedy but with fewer tourists and, consequently, friendlier Parisians. I found a good neighborhood boulangerie (Saint Preux) for morning croissants and 
pain au chocolats. We walked a lot; up through Montmartre to Sacre Coeur. Along the Seine, through the embassies near Place de la Concorde (some interesting wardrobe choices in this neighborhood), through the Marais, along Champs Elysee and across Ile de la Cite. On our way to dinner at Cafe Constant we stopped in Parc du Champs de Mars - quiet and empty at night - to watch the Eiffel Tower's light show.We visited L'Opera Garnier (twice, because Stella McCartney was showing her spring collection in the main hall the first time we tried). We visited Galleries Lafayette and climbed to the top of Arc de Triomphe.
After 3 days in Paris I took the train back (sprinting through a maze of subway tunnels and stations and down the platform to barely slip through the closing gate) to Amsterdam. Mark and Tanya flew to Istanbul; they report it's worth a visit. They stopped back through Amsterdam for a few days - we visited The Hague and Kinderdijk, rode bikes to Ouderkerk, walked around downtown - before returning to Seattle.
The day they left I got back on the train to Paris. Julie, Chris, Amit and Nadia had rented an apartment near Centre Pompidou, which they'd stocked with wine and fruit and unpasteurized cheese.We returned to Cafe Constant and stood in Champs de Mars park for the Eiffel Tower's light show. Julie and I almost managed a late night Velib Velo ride back to the apartment but were foiled (curses!) by the wrong credit card.
Some of us bought Museum Passes. I became a little obsessed with 'getting the value' out of them, which resulted in a lot of rushing around and just missing visiting hours. In fact just missing visiting hours might be considered a sub-theme of the trip, but the true theme was food. We ate at outdoor cafes, crepe and shawarma stands. We had a fancy three hour lunch at Taillevent and a two and a half hour lunch at Chez l'Ami Louis. 70 Euros for a roast chicken. Granted it's a very tasty, very large, and very special bird - bred and raised exclusively for Chez l'Ami - but still there was some debate. Most of us thought the potato galette was more impressive. We drank lots and lots and lots of wine.
We walked and walked and walked some more. The Marais, Champs Elysee, Rue de Rivoli. We visited Galleries Lafayette. Some of us visited George Pompidou. Some of us jogged along the Seine and around the grounds of the Louvre and Tuileries, stopping to see Monet's water lilies at Musee de l'Orangerie. The museum guards were not pleased with our shabby appearance, but the lilies were worth a little humiliation.
A few of us visited the top of Arc de Triomphe on a blustery, rainy night, worth it for the city view and mad traffic circle below.
Amit and Nadia took the train back to London on a Saturday. Julie, Chris, Kim and I drove back to Amsterdam on Sunday. Before we hit the road we decided to stop by L'As du Falafel and Mi-Va-Mi, reputed rival falafel stands in the Marais. We would get a couple from each place and decide for ourselves. We were hungry. Our brains were addled. And so we piled our luggage in the apartment building's tiny glass elevator and sent it down to the first floor, where the doors - jammed shut with luggage - were unable to fold open. We sent the elevator to various floors. We tried prying the doors. We enlisted the help of the cleaning crew and called the elevator company. It does not seem unfair to generalize that on a Sunday morning, the french are slow to respond in such situations. We waited. We took turns watching the elevator doors struggle to open. We continued to send it to various floors. We contemplated disabling the power source. We eyed the manual override keyhole we knew would solve our problem. We worried the motor would burn out, resulting in tremendous financial repercussions. Finally, a guy showed up with an allen wrench, turned it in the keyhole and pulled the doors open. He charged 60 euros. More proof one should never travel without a Swiss Army or Leatherman.
We were almost defeated but rallied for the falafel taste off. This was possibly the best decision of the trip, and it sent us out on a high note. There was no clear winner but we agreed this lowly street food ranked just behind Taillevent and Cafe Constant.
