OK it sounds tired and perhaps a bit trite but the very fact of it is when one is traveling long-term, it is nice to meet nice people. And so we were fortunate yesterday. (photo: Lorenzo visiting from Siena.)
As you may recall we missed hooking up with Lorenzo, the bartender/sommelier from Siena who we had gotten to know last year when we lived there. He is in Paris for the first time – staying with a family he had also met while working at Nannini’s in Siena, who live out in the suburbs of Paris. They told him whenever he wanted to come to Paris he could stay with them. And so here he is.
Anyway, we missed him Friday in front of Notre Dame but after an exchange of phone calls we at last connected in front of the Pyramid entrance to the Louvre. We chatted for a bit and then headed in the direction of the Arc de Triomph, with no particular itinerary in mind.
As we strolled through the Tuileries he was agog at the gardens, the statues, the fountains with the kids playing with their rented sailboats, and most of all with the sheer volume of people strolling on a beautiful warm Saturday afternoon in Paris. We crossed the Place de la Concorde and Lorenzo, now pretty much like a kid seeing the Big, Wide world for the first time, was simply awestruck by the Egyptian obelisk set up in the center of the Place. From there we continued our stroll up the Champs Elysses and eventually found ourselves seated at Le Deauville where we a glass of champagne.
We talked (mostly in Italian or what we could muster of Italian), since his English came and went pretty quickly. But hey, he’s just a nice guy.
About 7 pm we left the Champs Elysse and strolled down Avenue Georges V, past the hotel of the same name and of course we had to go in to check it out, and soon discovered it had not connection with the movie “The French Kiss”. We did see one of the s most striking arrangements of hydrangeas though: enormous plants set in glass bowls, raised in a staggered series of pedestals; they were gorgeous and imaginatively arranged.
At Place Alma, where the “unofficial” Diana memorial can be found, oddly enough as part of the replica of the statue of liberty torch, we turned right and headed up Avenue du President Wilson. It is curious that the not only have the French named several of their major streets after US presidents (Rue Lincoln off the Champs Elysses also comes to mind) but one of the major metro stops is called Franklin Roosevelt.
Just past the Palais de Tokio we turned left onto the small rue de la Manutention, characterized mainly by a large set of steps leading down toward the river. It was along this short block that we found the restaurant “Aux Marches du Palais,” where we had arranged to meet Diane from Oregon. She had come across our blog a while back and contacted us to say she was going to be in Paris for a few days and would we like to get together. In fact not only was she going to be in Paris but she had also arranged that very day to do a short course at Le Cordon Bleu as well! Sure, we said. Let’s plan on dinner.
Great, let’s do it.
Then she asked if we wanted to join her for at the Palais de Tokio, along the Seine near the Trocadero, to watch the “Burn Crew” do something with fire (it was unclear exactly from their website). Anyway they were scheduled for 9 pm and so we decided to meet for an early dinner nearby. After a quick look through “The Rough Guide to Paris” we found the “Aux Marches” which came recommended and was right next door to the Palais, and a 5-minute walk to the Metro. What more could you ask!?
So there we were. And within a minute or two there was Diane strolling up from the river. So the four of us sat down at a small table outside and commenced to try and decipher a French-only menu, which by the way, was OK and made for interesting conversation over the next half hour or so as we tried to figure it out in English and help Lorenzo understand it in Italian – and he had the added difficulty of not understanding how it was arranged, since it lacked antipasti, primi, secondi, etc. So the evening started out interesting to be sure.
A quick note about the restaurant. The food was very good but the service, provided by a young Polish girl who was new it seemed to us but who at least spoke a smattering of English (emphasize smattering), was a bit inattentive. We also missed out on the fixed menu that just about every restaurant in Paris has since when we asked our waitress she said no and yet it was on a chalkboard on the wall. And we never received the wine list, which was on another big chalkboard brought to the table. Maybe we had to ask. We did order the “vin rouge du maison” and it was actually just fine, and of course inexpensive. The food was quite good and reasonably priced we thought, although two meals had to go back because they were undercooked. Aside from these glitches one could recommend this place – and particularly if you enjoy a firm grasp of French. Diane had “gambas” (shrimp), Susan had “poulet” (chicken), Lorenzo actually had two starters, fois gras and “champignons” (mushrooms) and I had a small steak (“l’entrecote”) that was superb – aside from being undercooked, the sauce was very tasty and the potatoes (“pommes du terre”) just right.
After paying the bill we strolled over to the Palais, and soon found the “Burn Crew” down on the large open space of the Palais overlooking the river. The Palais is in fact a museum of modern art (it is open until midnight by the way). So the Burn Crew consisted of several guys scattered around the semi-darkened area, flipping and throwing their fire sticks around, one guy blowing petrol or some other sort of flammable liquid onto his fire sticks, all the while in the dark somewhere came the rhythmic beat of bongos or conga drums or some other sort of percussion which added to the party-like atmosphere. Indeed, I felt as if we were attending a rave party or some other gathering of young people out to just have a good, preferably great time.
After sitting and watching this rather randomly produced show we decided to head home. The four of us walked to the Pont Alma where we said arrivederci to Lorenzo as he left to find his RER train back to the suburbs. Diane and Susan and I hopped on the no. 9 metro, and quickly changed to the no. 7. We said goodbye to Diane as she got off at Sully-Morland stop and a few minutes later we left the metro at Censier and five minutes after we were back home.
So we spent a wonderful evening, the four of us, an odd group perhaps: Lorenzo looking for the occasional cigarette and at the stream of women passing by and all the while amazed at how good his food was (he had never had fois gras before), Diane and Susan swapping stores about Le Cordon Bleu and all of us talking about travel, particularly independent travel and how important it is to one’s emotional well-being.
Wish you were here,
Steve
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