Let’s not forget that the entire reason for this trip was that Andrew had to be at the EUROSATORY event. So, for the four days he was tied up at the airport, I got to explore Paris on my own! For this introvert, it was glorious. Perhaps one of the best vacations on which I’ve ever been.
My first order of business was heading to the famous Shakespeare and Company bookstore, which is an English bookstore in the Latin Quarter. I was on a mission! Joy Clarkson, author and daughter of Sally Clarkson, is someone I follow and I saw she *just happened* to be spending the month of June in Paris, and *just happened* to choose a French book for her summer bookclub. (She’s done these before via podcast, and I participated two summers ago when we read Klara and the Sun by Kazuro Ishiguro.) I was between books and thought it would be just perfect to both purchase and read Joy’s choice–The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery–while I was in Paris. (Spoiler alert: I did and it was. The book is no short of absolute literature PERFECTION; I have never marked up a book like I did that one. I will treasure it forever.)
ANYWAY.
I took a bus toward Champs de Mars (Eiffel Tower), got off at Hôtel de Ville, walked across Pont d’Arcole to Île de la Cité (tiny island in the middle of the Seine, Notre Dame is there), and then walked across Petit Pont Cardinal Lustiger (another bridge) to the Latin Quarter. From there, it was a short walk to the shop, which was already surrounded by tourists.
I waited patiently in a (short) line to enter the shop. It’s such a popular place that they control how many people enter so that visitors can enjoy their experience inside. They also don’t allow photography inside, but trust me when I say it’s very charming. There is even a café next door, which I believe is new since the last time Andrew and I walked by. After a bit of searching–it was in ‘French fiction’ on the bottom shelf near the entrance–I snagged the second-to-last copy (!!!) and a canvas tote for good measure.
After my literary adventure, I popped into Sephora for a ‘Le Mini Macaron’ gel manicure kit (my nails were in rough shape and I figured WHY NOT make a souvenir out of something I had already been eying at home, especially since it’s a half-French company (and ended up having a nice conversation with an employee there. After I greeted her and asked if she spoke English (in French–knowing my question would be too complicated for me to figure out), she wanted to ask ME a question: why do the French all speak English when they travel to the States, yet (most) Americans don’t even TRY to speak French when they visit France? She’s not wrong, and I was even a little touched she inquired this of me.
I empathized with her frustration, as it quite literally hurts my ears when I hear Americans speaking quickly (and loudly) in English, without even trying to either offer a greeting or attempt basic phrases in French. However, I did inform her that in the United States, we typically don’t begin a foreign language in school until much later than children do in Europe, and that everyone in Europe is learning English, while we often have a choice of multiple languages (i.e. French, German, Spanish). So, even if an American can speak another language, it may not be that of the country they are currently visiting.
(That being said, anyone who’s taken a Romance language should find similarities in both the vocabulary and conjugation, and it’s not hard to memorize a few polite phrases, such as ” Please and Thank you,” ” Where are the toilets?” and “May I please have….” when ordering off a menu.) I have found that offering a smile and beginning in the language of the country–even if you can only say some basic phrases–goes A LONG WAY.
That was actually the first of two similar conversations I had that day, and I always enjoy making conversation with the people who live where I’m visiting. Very rarely (and perhaps never) have I felt someone was being rude or purposely not speaking to me in English, which is a common complaint from Americans who visit Paris. (Not that that doesn’t happen, it just hasn’t happened to me when I’ve made every attempt to be polite.)
After my shopping, I ate lunch at Les Deux Magots, which is a famous café near the Latin Quarter. It’s a bit fancy and Andrew kept suggesting it to me since we’ve never been. (Or at least I don’t think we have?) I showed up on the early side and, again, I think I found favor with the waiter by speaking in my (very rudimentary) French, and he gave me the best seat in the house! I ordered a salad–the French make the best salads–and enjoyed some of the best people-watching in town.
After lunch and some more walking around, I had some time to read my new book in the hotel lobby before Andrew got back from the show. We headed out to Les Maquereaux on the Seine for Aperol Spritzes before dinner.
We walked to L’Procope for a late dinner–isn’t this alley dreamy?!
The following day, after a quick café breakfast, I headed to the Musée d’Orsay, which is my favorite museum of all time. Not only is it a beautiful building–an old train station–it houses one of the largest (THE largest?) collections of Impressionist art. It’s incredible. I have a distinct memory of racing through the top floor–all the great Impressionist stuff–with Andrew just before it closed because we’d taken too much time on the other floors. I was determined to see it all this time.
My timing was impeccable; BOTH of their temporary exhibits were about impressionism. One featured the art of a ‘modern’ impressionist painter, Nathanaëlle Herbelin, as well as one entitled ‘Inventing Impressionism,’ which was about how the movement came to be. It was fascinating to learn more about something about with which I was already familiar, and recognize so many names and pieces. Below is the painting that gave Impressionism its name: ‘Impression, Soliel Levant’ by Calude Monet.
Below is August Renoir’s ‘La Balançoire,’ which was featured on the cover of an early Impressionist magazine when the movement was in its infancy. It’s hard to believe that the art by Degas, Monet, Manet, Pissarro, Sisley, Renoir–all exceptional–were considered shocking and rejected outright by the ‘judges’ (called the ‘Salon’) at that time.
I spent four hours in the museum and only did the top floor–I was both exhausted and energized at the same time! I popped into a café for a late lunch on my way back to the Galerie Jouffroy to stop into Pain d’épices toy store for a plush croissant for Maelle. I knew we couldn’t come back without a stuffy for her, and what better than a croissant?!
The Seine provides a great place to run, so I took advantage of this being a night Andrew was tied up for dinner and headed out. You can just see the Eiffel Tower in the background! (On a previous trip, my running route was AT the Eiffel Tower, which I thought was sublime. I can’t believe some people–the elite, obviously–have the Eiffel Tower in their backyard.)
After I ran and cleaned up, I headed out with my book for some dinner. Other than the fact that–unbeknownst to me–a giant school group was inside overwhelming the wait staff, my experience was pleasant.
I was on my own again the following day, but this time I got up early and grabbed a cup of coffee with Andrew before he headed out. I worked out in the room (thank goodness for Peloton bodyweight workouts!), indulged in a more ‘American’ breakfast at the hotel (i.e. more than a croissant, coffee and juice), then walked to the Picasso Museum, another favorite. (Pretty sure Andrew and I closed this one down the last time we were here.)
I really enjoyed their special exhibit, highlighting Picasso as four archetypes: the hero, the Minotaur, the voyeur and the musketeer. His work is so varied! He’s not my favorite artist, but his pieces are so unique and –I think–very thought-provoking. I spent a couple hours there exploring the many floors and rooms before heading out into the Marais shopping district.
Something that caught my eye first on our trip this April to London and again in Paris is the resurgence of the Adidas sneaker! I actually HAD the original black-and-white Sambas when I was in fifth grade. They were a gift from my grandfather for Christmas, and I’ll never forget the shriek I made when I opened the box. Anyway, now that they come in all sorts of colors–and that the only sneakers I had with me were my running shoes (sensible but not fashionable), I figured I’d get myself a useful souvenir. Easier said than done.
I hadn’t yet settled on a color, and European sizes are different than American, which I knew, and apparently some of these shoes are women’s and some are unisex (which I did not), so finding the right size in the right shoe was time-consuming. I finally chose the bright blue with white stripes (this giving anyone Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day vibes??), only to find out they did not have my size at this store. So, off I went to another one!
Along the way, I suddenly came upon a familiar sight: a crowded falafel stand. I knew it right away! Andrew and I had visited it at least once before, and I was starving, so I hopped in line and took mine to go.
I scored my new shoes at the Adidas brand store on Boulevard Haussmann, then headed back to the room to freshen up before dinner. I joined Andrew and his colleagues, some of whom also had family members with them, for dinner at Café Marche in Place St. Catherine.
Meanwhile….Maelle was enjoying Nana’s neighborhood pool!
Maelle and Nana went down to Lynchburg to visit Aunt Hannah, Jack and Layne, and stopped at the Moo-Thru on the way.
Up next: the last two days of our trip!
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