Paris - Day 8

Pictures

Today was our last full day in Paris. Which was very depressing considering the week we had. But even more depressing to think that we would soon be crammed into an aluminum tube like sardines that was being hurled across the ocean. Except this time the hurling was going to take 9 hours instead of 8. Damned jet stream.

We started off the day by going to the Musee d'Orsay. As we got of the metro we encountered the smartest bum in all of Paris. One thing the Parisians are famous for is not putting a sign on anything. If you were from Mars and had never heard of the Eiffel tower you could wander around Paris for days looking for it cause their aren't any signs for it. Seriously people! Would it kill ya to throw up a sign or two. Anyway, as we come up to the street from the Metro we start looking for the sign to the Musee d'Orsay, as if this was the one place in Paris that actually had a sign, this bum says in perfect English, "Mussee d'Orsay? Two blocks down on your right". Is this guy a genius or what? Obviously he got a Euro for his display of outright capitalist ingenuity. I think Ayn Rand is smiling somewhere.

There is a trick to the Musee d'Orsay. Get a museum pass and get there when it opens. If you have the pass you get to skip the hordes that line up at the main door. In fact it was the 4 of us and 2 other women waiting in the museum pass line. Once you get in go straight to the 5th floor, where the Impressionists are and you will have the place all to yourself. Just you, Van Gogh and the security guard babbling on his cell phone about the date he had last night. Once he hung up I stood in silence and stared at Edgar Degas's Absinthe Drinker. I swear I could taste the wormwood as it melted my mind and transported me to...... enter loud Japanese tour group... exit absinthe fantasy. Regardless it is truly awesome to be alone with such great works of art.

We headed back to the apartment and M & K headed up to Sacre Coeur. J and I decided to stop and eat. There is a chain restaurant in Paris called Hippopotamus. They are everywhere. You sometimes get the feeling you are being stalked by a Hippo (maybe that was just an absinthe flashback, but it felt real). We decided we must try it. I mean after all it is named after the most delicious animal we humans consume, right? Seriously, how could you avoid a restaurant named Hippopotamus. Well it turns out the Hippo is like a Chili's with out all that crap on the walls (where do they get all that crap anyway). But it is pretty good if you are getting tired of exquisite French food, which we were not. You cant win them all.

After lunch we headed up Rue Raspail in search of the Catacombs. This is the one thing I have been waiting to see. So we walk to where our book says they are, but they aren't there. So the great search begins. We are walking around this traffic circle looking for a sign (Ha Ha Ha) or something to lead us into the right direction. No one in the area seems to know either. I mean, come on people, it is the catacombs, one of the most famous sights in all of Paris. J finally finds a nice old woman who points us in the right direction. So we go over to the entrance, which is just a green door on the side of a building, and there on a white piece of letter paper is printed the words Catacombs Closed. We finally find a sign and it says closed. It doesn't give us any reason why they are closed or when the might be open, just closed. But at least we got a sign. Beggars can't be choosers.

J and I walked around the neighborhood until it was time to meet M and K at the apartment. We were meeting up with some friends for dinner who were staying at the Ritz. This was great since the Ritz was on our list of things to see. This place is a must. It is no Ritz-Carlton it is the real deal. This place has the bar that Hemingway personally liberated during the war. It is also the place that Princess Diana was leaving on that fateful night. In fact the Bloody Mary was invented in the Hemingway Bar. If you do go to the Ritz bring your wallet, or better yet bring a friends wallet, cause a drink will set you back 38 Euros. After we drank the GDP of a small African nation we headed off to dinner.

For our final dinner we chose Le Vaudeville. It was highly recommended in several books, especially in one of Ina's books. So J and K were dying to go there. We were promptly sat, which is always a risk while traveling as Americans. Then they sat this young Italian couple next to us. When the waiter came back by the Italians asked in English if they could be moved to a different table and shot some darts our way. And people say the french are rude. Luckily for us the waiter said no and they were forced to endure us all night. After a while we noticed that K and our friend N had been gone for a long time. We thought they had headed to the restroom but they had been gone a long time. I started worrying that maybe the Italians had gotten them. Turns out they just couldn't figure out how to operate the sink. In an effort to avoid technology the French do not use infrared sensors on their sinks. Instead they have pedals on the floor that operate the faucet. Brilliant! Except that is the same thing that my Vet uses after he sticks his hand in my dogs rear. That pretty much sums up Le Vaudeville. It is kinda like going to the vet, it is not a bad experience until you get the bill.

Metro home and off to sleep.

CE