We arrived in Paris by TGV, and took a taxi to Jeanne's apartment. She had said that she might not be at home when we arrived, so we rang the bell and were buzzed in. Turned out it was Mme Chavez cleaning up. So we dropped our bags and rested for a few minutes, until she needed to clean in the living room. So we decided to go out for a coffee and tea. When we got downstairs we saw Jeanne making her way to the building, so we gathered her up and took her out to a cafe.
After returning to the apartment and chatting for a bit, we decided to go to a restaurant on the other side of the river. Jeanne's apartment is near the Seine, so we walked the three blocks to the restaurant, waving at the Eiffel Tower as we went. We had an excellent meal -- Tom said he had the best steak he has ever had in France (and that's saying something), while Jeanne and I each had duck breast stuffed with foie gras. We differed on dessert though -- I had a caramel souffle with salted butter, and Jeanne had mille feuille with fig compote.
The next day we had a leisurely breakfast -- one might even say and early lunch, and headed off to the Musee Branly, which was hosting an exhibit if photographs from Iran. After that we went to an even larger photography exhibit across the street, along the Seine. We returned to the apartment for a quick dinner of pizza and salad. Jeanne planned a quiet evening, while Tom and I decided to venture out for La Nuit Blanche, the White Night, held once a year. For the White Night, the streets are full of performance artists, and museums and attractions are open all night, usually for free. We had gone once before and enjoyed street performances and a concert in the Louvre.
Walking along the Seine...
past the Tour Eiffel...
to the Musee Branly....
with it's controversial mur vegetal (wall of foliage).
This particular night was a little too successful. Our first destination was the Luxembourg Gardens, which was to feature a laser light show. When we arrived, the line was about 5 hours long, and not moving. So we decided to move on to the next venue, a church featuring a choral presentation; the line there was about 2 hours long. We walked to Notre Dame where crowd milled around, and something was going on inside, but we knew the line would be daunting. So we returned to the apartment about midnight, disappointed, but at least not in line.
Sunday Jeanne suggested that we walk to a garden near the former family home. We first visited the Le Square de Poets, the poets' garden, with plaques commemorating dozens of poets, most of whom were unknown to us. From there we went into a garden containing a large number of greenhouses, the Jardin des Serres D'Auteuil, most of which were open to visitors. Jeanne told us that this had belonged to the City of Paris, and had provided the flowers for all of the officials' offices and special occasions. Some years ago, it had been taken over by the state, and now provided plants and flowers to the parks and offices of the French government. It was interesting to see that most of the greenhouses were open, yet there was only one gardener that we saw; in the US we would expect a collection of buildings like that to be pretty well vandalized without protection, but here it was a quiet, restful oasis.
There were any number of small flower plots in the garden, and all had a theme -- and for many the theme was edible plants; here among the flowers and ferns were rhubarb, kale and beets.
The main greenhouse was filled with tropical plants, including this flower --
and a full grown palm tree.
Restful was good, since when we returned to the apartment, a flurry of activity began as Pauline and Emmanuelle arrived to help prepare for Pauline's birthday party. At Pauline's request, Emmanuelle prepared dinner, while the rest of us got tables and chairs, plates and flatwear ready. I played sous-chef, cleaning shrimp and chopping vegetables and herbs -- mainly just following directions. At last all was ready and guests began to arrive. I think we were 17 in all, but with so many milling around, it was hard to count. The piece de la resistance was the magnificent cake -- one of those lovely ones in the patisserie windows that one is too intimidated to actually buy. An excellent time was had by all.
Monday we busied ourselves packing and organizing for the trip from Paris to Boston, so we would have our evening free. We took the metro with Jeanne to the Opera, and walked many blocks until we met Pauline and Marie. Marie had arranged for us the finale of our trip to France -- tickets to the Comedie Francaise. We had a casual dinner of croque monsieurs and salads at a nearby cafe, and then went off to the theater to see L'Avarre -- The Miser, by Moliere. Marie had ordered the tickets some weeks before, so we had had time to read the play in English, and I read part of it in French. I had studied it in French class a few years ago, but the review was important -- without it I'm sure neither of us would have followed it at all. The production was excellent, we could hear the actors despite the complete lack of amplification, and the theater -- built by Louis XIV for Moliere, was glorious. Marie told us that the actors are members of the only troupe supported by the French government, and our cast included well-known actors and movie stars. During the intermission we stood on the very narrow balcony and imagined were were lords and ladies looking down on the less fortunate in the street.
Jeanne and Marie check out Moliere.
Pauline
Marie
What an elegant and special experience -- and one we would never have had without Marie!
Then back to the apartment for a good night's sleep before heading off to the airport and Boston. I won;t repeat the earlier post about our airport adventures, but I will observe AGAIN that Air France can ruin your whole day even if you aren't flying Air France!
Our objective in planning this trip was leaf-peeping -- to see the fall colors in New England. Tom did research on wehre to go and what to see along the way, as well the our hotels and accommodations. We both worked on the timing, which is different every year. This year we seemed to have hit the timing perfectly; and all of Tom's plans were wonderful.
We checked in and found some dinner in the next town, Littleton, and rested up for the next day. Tom had planned for us to take the cog railway up Mt. Washington, the highest peak in the east coast. Other guests told us at breakfast that despite the cool temperatures in Lisbon, they had been turned away from Mt. Washington the day before for high winds. We could not get any information on the internet or by phone, so we decided to take a chance.
