Paris Saints: November, 2005

After spending two nights in Versailles, the day to return home had arrived.

We packed up and headed into say "au revoir" to Paris before boarding out plane.

We decided to take advantage of a few extra hours to re-visit Notre Dame, which we had previously only seen at night or from a distance, and to explore some of the quaint back streets shopping for souvenirs.

Of course, stopping en route to the airport meant we were rolling our suitcases behind us, but this is another advantage of packing light, which makes a little extra sightseeing possible, if slightly less than ideal.

Missing this return to Notre Dame would have made our trip less complete.



We had to take turns two at a time walking through the interior, while the other two watched the luggage outdoors, but watching the world go by while waiting also proved to be a pleasant way to pass the time.

We went to Sainte-Chapelle, another Paris church famous for its remarkable stained glass, but the kids and I decided to just wait outside while Julie toured the interior.

She said it was remarkably beautiful.

We spent the rest of our Euros on sourvenirs and French bread, having already bought our tickets to the airport.

My sister sent me an e-mail today commenting on the detail with which I remember our trips, and I told her that I had more details than what I included, and gave an example of the restaurant we dined at both nights in Paris, which I previously omitted.

The first night in Paris we had wandered toward Saint-Germaine in search of a restaurant that would please us all.

We found La Taverne Saint-Germaine. While from the outside it looks like an attractive bistro, upon enterring we found a German restaurant that serves both German and Italian food and specializes in beer rather than French wine.

This seems like such sacrilege to dine at such a restaurant in the culinary capital of the proud French that I previously failed to acknowledge it, but it really is quite excellent.

Our waiter looked very much like Samuel Adams himself, with his white hair and apron.

When it came time to dine the next night, we found ourselves back with Sam Adams for another delicious meal.

The pasta dishes that Julie and the kids enjoyed were as good as the German meal I had with my beer.

Paris: November, 2005

Coming from jolly old England, we couldn't help but notice a melancholy mood in Paris. At the time of our visit, news stories spoke of Paris suburbs under seige from Northern African immigrants who were setting cars on fire at a frightening pace.

Apparently, a few hundred car fires per week are normal among this community in France, but it had escalated beyond that and drawn much closer to the city.

Since France had been the most vocal critic of U.S.-lead Iraq policy, they probably felt that their Muslim community should be happy to live in their beautiful country, but the result of their pacifism may be perceived weakness. This is not, however, a political blog, and I’m not sure the Muslim uprising alone darkened the mood in Paris.

Parisians seem to be longing for the past rather than embracing the future, holding on to subsist rather than striving to get ahead.

Still, the city remains one of the most beautiful in the world, with many wonderful sites to see. Besides visiting obvious landmarks like the Louvre, Notre Dame, Musee d'Orsay, Arc de La Defence and the Eiffel Tower, simply strolling the streets past the art stands, boulangeries and small stores feels quite special.

The wide Champs Elisse may be the most famous street, but there are plenty of little alleys where exotic aromas waft from bistros and Greek take-out restaurants to also intrigue visitors.

A good hotel in Paris will not come cheap, and it might not be very good, either.

We spent two nights in a boutique hotel advertised as quaint but which was in dire need of remodeling.

I won't mention the name, because I'm afraid you may forget that this is not a recommendation and then accidentally book a room there.

While the small lobby looked somewhat appealing, the standard rooms were small with thin mattresses placed on wooden pedestals rather than on box springs.

A couple of thousand dollars spent in each room to spruce the place up would go a long way, but since tourists line up for this “authentic” Parisian experience,

I guess the owners can't rationalize spending the euros.

We had the "penthouse suite" for our second night there.

With low, slanted ceilings, an odd floor plan and views of tin rooftops,

I think it should be billed as a "starving artist's garret."


Put a canvas on an easel with some oil paints and a couple of brushes in there, and someone could probably paint a masterpiece, or at least cut off an ear trying.

Instead, we watched "The Patriot" dubbed in French when we returned from dinner early enough to "enjoy" our room on the second night. Exactly why would anyone NOT prefer a cruise vacation?