Paris, Day 2

I awake early determined to make the most of my final free day. My plan is to get into Paris early enough to grab a quick bite before lining up outside the Louvre, which opens at nine. I catch the RER to Le Halles station and emerge onto a deserted Rue de Rivoli. I stroll over a block and head West along the right (i.e. North) bank of the Seine.

What I didn't count on was nearly everything being closed.

An occasional car would drive by but as I strolled next to the shuttered shops and cafes I pass only two persons. I finally come to an open cafe at Pont Neuf, aptly named, "Cafe du Pont Neuf." Now "open" is a stretch... chairs are being unstacked, the busboy is mopping the floor, and the proprietor is serving espresso to what were obviously two people he knew. So there I am, in my shorts and sneakers -- so American -- in the midst of a few acquaintances going through their Sunday morning ritual.

Not to be denied or intimidated, I sit on the bar stool, look the proprietor straight in the eye, and say, "Cafe noir, s'il vous plait" [Black coffee, please]. He pours me one of the best espressos I ever tasted. Now, I am an Earl Grey drinker, not a coffee guy, but there was no way I wasn't going to try my hardest to be as French as possible at that moment. But it was really good.

I still need breakfast, so I ask for a menu, which he hands me, explaining that the kitchen doesn't open for quite a while. Damn. However, he brings out a basket of croissants, to which I helped myself.

Best. Croissants. EVAR.

Frankly, I have never been a fan of croissants. I think up until that moment every croissant I ever had was greasy and rubbery and bland. These croissants were warm, buttery but not greasy, light and just amazing. I have never tasted anything like them. My mission on returning to the States is to find a comparable delight.

I pay and leave, heading over to the Louvre in a great mood. When I arrive at the Louvre it becomes apparent that I am not the only person who had planned to arrive early, for there are about 500 people in line already. However, once the museum opened the line moved quickly and I am inside by 9:15.

Everything people told me about the Louvre is true, so let me simply repeat: it is huge. Big enough to get inadvertently lost in, and big enough to not see in an entire day, or maybe even a week. The exhibits are well-organized. Masterpieces abound. Biggest disappointment: the Mona Lisa. People are kept a good twenty feet away from the painting, so it is impossible to appreciate Da Vinci's multi-layered lacquer technique. Coolest exhibits [tie]: the Code of Hammurabi and Michaelangelo's "Dying Slave." Biggest surprise: flash photography is allowed. Weird.

I spend three hours in wonder then hit the cafe. Very limited choice, but it all looks fresh. "Une baguette poulet et de l'eau plate s'il vous plait."

Hey, cool, I'm getting the hang of (very) basic French :)

I'm due to meet my friend Maxime at 1 pm at the Musée d'Orsay, so I head over there. That line, too, is quite long, and I realize with a heavy heart that I will not have time to see the impressionists. To pass the time I walk around Paris near the Orsay. I check out the National Assembly building, then head down Boulevard Saint Germain. Maxime would later explain that Saint Germain -- his neighborhood -- is a quiet, wealthy, predominantly residential neighborhood populated by a lot of older Parisiens. In many ways it reminds me of some parts of San Francisco.

Maxime and I meet and he gives me a walking tour of the left bank (that is, the southern shore of the Seine), beginning with his favorite local cafe, where I once again indulge in espresso and croissants. Awesome. We walk down the rest of Saint Germain, past a few famous cafes where Sartre used to dine, and into the Luxembourg Gardens. The Luxembourg Gardens is the primary park of Paris, although it is far smaller than New York's Central Park. Since it is a Sunday afternoon, the park is busy with families playing. There are few tourists. One of the interesting sights in the park is a small Statue of Liberty, which was built as the model for construction of the larger statue in New York.

We decide to go to Montmartre. On the way to the Metro we pass the Pantheon, where some of France's most important people (Madame Curie, Voltaire, Rousseau) are entombed. It is closed, unfortunately, but like many of Paris' public buildings has beautiful architecture.

Montmartre is the biggest (maybe only?) hill in Paris, and is topped by the beautiful white-domed Basilica of the Sacré Cœur. Not as magnificent as Notre Dame, but still a beautiful building. From there we explore the nearby streets, which are all inevitably narrow and one-way. The mixed use of residential and commercial make this a very desirable place to live, even if it is a bit far from the center of Paris. Maxime has to depart but I stay to see La Bateau Lavoir where Picasso lived and painted. It sits on a small plaza with trees and benches and one of the famous Wallace Fountains that dot Paris.

The day is getting late but there is still more ground to cover. I catch a Metro from Abbesses Station to Varenne with the intention of spending an hour or so in the Rodin museum. D'oh! They are closing for the evening. So instead I walk East to Napolean's tomb at Invalides. What a monument to ego, or perhaps a monumental ego. You just have to see it to believe it.

It is now 6 pm and I am ready for some dinner. Maxime had recommended Cafe Janou in the Marais neighborhood, so I hop aboard the Metro again to the Chemin Vert station. There are a few people at the outside tables but no crowds, so I ask, "Je voudrais une table por un, s'il vous plait" [I would like a table for one, please]. The waiter tells me the kitchen won't open until 8 pm. Sunday night and it doesn't even open until 8?? This would never work in the US.

So with ninety minutes to kill I decide to return to my hotel, shower and change before returning. By the time I get back, the place is PACKED with a line out the door. However, being alone confers the advantage of not having to wait for a large table to clear. I am seated immediately at a tiny table directly inside the door.

I like Cafe Janou immediately. The staff is attentive, the clientèle happy, the environment noisy. Aretha Franklin and Beck are pumping over the noise of the crowd. Odd choices, yes, but it worked! I eat a magnificent French-style meal of scallops and risotto and their Janou Salad, followed by a raspberry tart. Every bite is exquisite. Thanks for the recommendation, Maxime!

After dinner I return to my hotel for the last time. My stomach happy, my feet aching, my head reeling. Tomorrow I would be the visiting American from IBM. But today, I am a Parisien. I can't wait to return.