I remember when we were so busy with work and commitments that we dreamed a day might come when we could spot a deal and take an impulsive trip to a favorite spot. Apparently that day had come and I suggested we try out the discount airline French Bee for a little jaunt. The advertised fare of $335 round trip flirted lustily with my thrifty nature and I was all in for what I expected might be an inexpensive and short little visit to Paris. We’d walk and talk, hit a few restaurants, take in a museum or two - in other words (and in my deluded mind), spend little money.
The French Bee starter fare does not include seats, luggage, carry-on or food. That Susan might set foot on a Parisian street without appropriate duds for the experience was beyond a fantasy for even me. Things quickly changed. Reality raised its ugly head. We weren’t heading off with a couple of carry-ons and a backpack. But hey, what’s a trip to Paris without dressing for the part?
As no small aside, French Bee flights are round trip from Miami, nine hours by car without stopping - that’s twelve hours for those of us who need to eat, cars that burn gas and bodies that need occasional relief. There are friends to see, relatives to visit and restaurants to enjoy. We needed at least two nights of lodging before the day of the flight. Anyway, who’s going to drive all the way to Miami and just jump on a plane?
Mercredi ~ 16,850 steps
Our first adventure was finding a completely unmarked economy parking lot for the Miami airport. After circling the terminal twice thinking we had missed a sign, we flagged down some guy who appeared to be an airport employee. He confirmed there was no signage for the lot, gave us an address and suggested we put it in our navigation system. We did just that and meandered our way to an outer lot with an open gate and a few cars. An employee shuttle bus sputtered by. We jumped on, shoving ourselves and muscling our bags in between the TSA agents, flight attendants and pilots already crammed into the packed coach. The driver instantly advised us that he would not stop at our terminal. So what? We figured a little stretch would be good for us, and after all, what’s a little extra walking before taking a long flight?
Right on time, the Bee buzzed off the runway. We arrived at Orly airport the next morning exactly as scheduled. The plane was a little tight. Economy seats (the cheap ones I had booked) stretched ten across. We were forty rows back. It took forty minutes to deplane, forty more to clear customs, retrieve our luggage and another forty by taxi to our hotel. Oh, I forgot to add that we mentioned our “quick trip” to Susan’s brother and his wife (Paul and Anne), dared them to come along and sure enough they took the bait. The good news was they had booked a room the night before we arrived, providing us a place to freshen up and change so we could hit the ground running.
Usually our first stop in Paris is L'As du Fallafel, an Israeli falafel, shawarma & kebab spot that we cannot resist. Circumstances in France are such that the door of this restaurant is blocked by a couple of burly fellows who eye up those who wish to enter. Apparently we looked harmless enough to make the cut, were offered a nod and an extended arm as permission to enter. The luncheon was fantastic as usual, and our falafel fix was complete.
With appetites satisfied and eager to stretch our legs, we walked by the newly opened Notre Dame cathedral to admire the building and made a pact to make plans to tour the interior. The waiting line was massive and we were told that up to 15,000 people have been passing through each day. We strolled all the way back to our Trocadéro neighborhood, passing by The Louvre, meandering a bit through the Tuileries Gardens and all the while being enchanted by the Eiffel Tower’s spinning beacon that pierced the clear night sky. We rewarded ourselves for making it through the long day with hot chocolates at Cafe Carette, took one last glance at the sparkling Eiffel Tower and hit the sack hard.
Jeudi ~ 17,008 steps
Before leaving home, Susan had made a late morning appointment at a little jewelry store in town. She had spotted a bracelet somewhere along the line and it turned out this particular item happened to be in stock at the company’s Paris store (surprise surprise). I knew we were in trouble after being escorted to a private room and offered champagne. Paul could see what was coming and vanished with Anne firmly in tow before I had even taken a seat. Helpless and alone with Susan and the jeweler, I drank all four of the champagnes that had been set out for us. Shortly later, I left the building with a bubbly smile and a happy wife. Besides, what’s a visit to Paris without picking up a souvenir?
Susan and Anne were visibly getting the jitters just talking about the varieties of shops and merchandise constantly beckoning their attention. We walked and talked and shopped until even the sun gave up on them. Dinner was Iranian cuisine at Shebastan and we feasted on a wonderful spread of Persian treats. It was one of our better picks.
Moulin Rouge was on tap and we were eager to enjoy their late night cabaret show. This place has been going since the late 1800’s and we got right into the Bohemian spirit. I know it’s a tourist stop, but great fun and so very, very Paris. We got royally ripped off on the taxi ride back to our hotel - but hey, what’s a vacation without getting zinged a few times?
Vendredi ~ 18,444 steps
We slept until late in the morning and needed every minute of the extra dozing. Our day started with a visit to the Picasso museum and we marveled at dozens of paintings and sculptures spread throughout just as many rooms. I was happy to get out of the cold air and brisk wind and enjoyed every minute of the artful observations. Besides, who can go to Paris and not visit a museum?
Susan and Anne were in desperate need of a shopping fix, having not been in a store for nearly 18 hours. They decided Longchamps would do the trick. We left carrying at least five bags and they seemed to be sated. We all needed foot massages badly and squeezed one in before dinner.
It was steak and frites night and we headed for Relais de l’Entrecôte and wow, the line outside extended for over two blocks. We grabbed a cab and tried out L'Entrecôte de Paris near the Champs-Élysées. The name, decor, menu and service were the same. The food was not. Apparently if you’ve seen one entrecôte, you haven’t seen them all. Oh well, what’s a vacation without getting a little mixed up with translations?
Samedi ~ 22,655 steps
We had an early wake up call and were off by train to Marché Maubert. It was so cold and windy that the crack of dawn seemed to be waiting for a break in the weather. Susan had signed us up for a cooking class that included selecting fresh ingredients directly from the market, then proceeding to participate in preparing and eating our own creations. I can boil water if there’s someone around to adjust the flame, but being left alone to stir a broth or cream can result in being both scalded and scolded. In between heavy yawning and the shivers, we joined five fellow wanna be’s and Chef Cyril to select vegetables and a main course. He was entertaining and apparently knowledgeable (who am I to say?) and we let him pick what he wanted - quickly. The group then made a brisk mile long walk to Cyril’s kitchen on the other bank of the Seine. We were treated to hot tea and took turns warming our hands on the ceramic teapots. The cooking experience turned out to be fun even for me. I learned a few tricks that I’ve already forgotten and we shared plenty of laughs in the kitchen while Cyril displayed his skills. Our le plat was called “dos de cabillaud en papillote” (cod fillet in parchment) and I have to say it was right up there with the best meals of our trip. And hey, what’s a fun vacation without doing something totally outside your comfort zone?
It was a four mile hike back to our neighborhood and we needed every step of it to work off the effects of the butter laden dishes. We needed a break, and this was our first chance to do absolutely nothing for an hour or so. A late dinner was planned at Le Melville. I had been pulled in by their advertised reputation as a “unique concept combining cocktails, jazz and gastronomy”. It was indeed a smooth and relaxing atmosphere to enjoy a quiet evening of cool and soothing music with nice food to boot. All we needed were some skinny cigarettes and berets to complete the picture. It was after midnight when we walked out to encounter a guard standing in the street with a semi-automatic weapon strapped across his chest. But hey, what’s a late night out in an unfamiliar town without stumbling into the wrong neighborhood?
Dimanche ~ 19,068 steps
Perhaps we slept in a bit longer than necessary, but still made our morning stop at A La Petite Marquise for croissants, pains au chocolat and espresso. Tanked up and ready to rumble, it was once again time for shopping. With only two days to go and the clock ticking, there was an obvious sense of urgency in Susan and Anne’s gaits as we proceeded one last time to the Galeries Lafayette, a vast vessel of wares, wardrobes and scents.
Susan was treated to one of the finest compliments to have ever kissed her ears when a beautiful young sales associate at a perfume counter told her that she was very chic and could pass for a Parisian. I could almost hear Susan’s heart flutter. It wasn’t false flattery. She had already bought the perfume. Je suis vraiment un homme chanceux!
Paul and I, tired of being relegated to lurking at the front doors of shop after shop, spotted a friendly looking “gastropub” called Le Pick Clops. I picked up on the pub part of the signage and we idled away the afternoon quite pleasantly, perhaps to greater expense than expected. But hey, what’s a trip to Paris without an afternoon wasted in a local bar?
In the small world department, as we walked out of a coffee shop Susan spotted a familiar face among a steady stream of passersby. She shouted out, “Melanie!", and sure enough a woman's head turned toward us. Indeed it was a mutual acquaintance of Paul and Anne's from South Carolina. This wasn't the first time such things have happened to us in our travels.
Unfortunately on this night, we had our worst dinner of the trip and to make it even worse, got lost trying to find the place. We had been to Noura Libanaisin Trocadéro just last year, but at a different location, and that apparently was all the difference in the world. It was a real disappointment and I was embarrassed that I had recommended the stop. Oh well, what’s a vacation without at least once bombing out on a restaurant?
After dinner, we had tickets to see the Dolce&Gabbana exhibition at the Grand Palais. Other than getting out of the bone chilling weather, I could have easily done without passing by hundreds of mannequins dressed in elaborate gowns, capes and outfits that could not possibly be worn by humans. While I did appreciate the incredible talent it must have taken to create these pieces of art, it did not ring my bell. But hey, what’s a family vacation that doesn’t include taking one for the team?
Lundi ~ 15,204 steps
Alas, our last day in Paris. We finally snagged reservations to see the interior of Notre Dame and marveled at how perfectly everything had been restored. By some sleight of hand, Susan and Anne were able to get in some last minute shopping. Poor Paul had to buy another suitcase to get Anne’s haul home. No such luck for even poorer me as Susan’s purchases were mostly wearables.
Chef Cyril had suggested we try to get into Les Marches, a traditional French bistro just across the river from the Eiffel Tower. It was a treat in all manner and made us all feel as close to being locals as our language skills would allow.
Mardi ~ Stepped Out
Knowing Tuesday would be an early and last visit to A La Petite Marquise, we gave each other kisses and hugs goodbye and grabbed our ride to Orly Airport. That cute little French Bee was waiting for us, took off on time and delivered us to Miami a full hour early. It was only on instinct that we were able to get back to the long term parking lot. No vehicle came by with a marking that might suggest it was headed there. We hailed an employee shuttle bus down and jumped on board.
So, what’s a vacation without one last adventure!
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