Days 2-5 in Paris - A Few Museums, Lots of Eating

Tuesday - Visited the Musee d'Orsay and perambulated through the excellent collection of impressionist painting. Afterwards, we took a stroll through the Tulleries Gardens. Then it was home for some cleaning up and preparing for our biggest dinner in Paris at the famous Joël Robuchon's L'Atelier. The wait, we were told, was one hour, but we got there at 8:00pm only to find out that the wait was 2.5 hrs. We went over next door to a hotel and got drinks at a posh hotel, where Diesel spotted a small mouse scurrying across the lobby. Upon being notified of the unwanted patron, the hotel staff seemed quite disgusted. However, after a brief, failed search, they simply gave us as if it wasn't a big deal at all.

At 10:30 we finally sat at the bar (the whole restaurant is all bar seats, with the kitchen in the middle). We did the 9-course tasting menu. I can't remember the names of any of the dishes; all I know is that was really the best meal of my life.

Wednesday - We woke up early for the Louvre. Despite being able to skip all the lines by using our museum pass, we were surrounded, choked in fact, by the large crowed of tourists. Not the art-loving kind, mind you, but the breed that only goes from piece to piece taking pics of themselves with famous works of art and intend to bore their friends with those stupid shots. We met up with Nath after the museum, as she had arrived from Lyon the previous evening. The threatening clouds turned into downpour, and we ran through the streets to find a good neighborhood restaurant--with only 4 days in Paris, we wanted to make the most out of every meal. We picked a small family-owned restaurant, where we ordered steak and frites. That's right. I had RED MEAT. And it was GOOD.

In the evening we had dinner at Marie-Pierre's house. MP is a co-worker of Nath's whom I met while she was traveling through Seattle/Vancouver. Her friend Isabelle, who was traveling with MP was also there.

Thursday - We slept in till 11 and met with Nath for lunch at La Tete de Grouchin or something like that. The food was really good. We then made a stop home and the two decided it was in order to take a nap. I was a bit impatient and wanted to walk around, as we had been lazy all morning. We finally made it out and took a stroll through the streets of Paris.

That night, Nath got a reprieve from us and met up with her friends at a restaurant. We didn't go to far, and went to the restaurant next door (literally), where we enjoyed some hearty Provençal food.

Day 1 in Paris - Secrets and Lies, Let the Gluttony begin

We arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport at 10:30am but after having problems with our shuttle, we didn't get to the apartment that my friend Nathalie had arranged for us to stay in until 1pm.

We were received by Daniele, who lived in the apartment. Nathalie had tried to explain to me the whole housing arrangement, but seeing that all of the exchange was done over IM, it follows that I did not really understand that Nath didn't know this person personally. In fact, Daniele was actually a friend of a friend (Lili) of a friend (Pauline) of Nath's. To conceal the loose connection, I was supposed to say that I did know Pauline, a fact that escaped my attention. I have a feeling I got Nath and Pauline in a bit of trouble, but we tried to be good house guests.

We got cleaned up and Daniele made us some delicious salad, topping it off with bits of goat cheese wrapped in speck, shaved Parmesan and other little French treats that came in jars filled with aromatic olive oil. After that, we took a recovery nap and finally made it out by taking a stroll around the neighborhood. We were by place Pereire, a hip, borderline snooty neighborhood in the 17th arroundissement.

That night, Lili came over and cooked us dinner: shredded duck and mashed potatoes casserole. The dish name sounds much better in French though. A lot off champagne, and wine were consumed that night which led to some jolly moments that night.

On Our Way to Paris/The Boy Who Wouldn't Shut Up

It finally came! Diesel's and my trip to Paris. Catching the flight was quite stressful, as we had to get up at 5am on Sunday morning and drive down to Seattle from the Baker cabin. You see, our friends Rebeca, Steve and Heidi threw a big party at the cabin to celebrate their 40th, 40th, and 30th bdays, respectively, so on Sat afternoon Diesel and I made the 2.5 hr drive to Baker and, in a ambitious, yet utterly stupid plan, decided to drive back to Seattle at 5 so we could make a 7:30-8am stop at the Danskin triathlon to cheer on our friends Tarah and Regina, who were doing their first tri.

After gett pulled over by a cop but not getting a speeding ticket despite doing 57 on a 35mph road, we cheered Tarah on but missed Regina :(

Back at our apartment, we showered, grabbed our bags and got a ride from my sis to the airport. The flight to Chicago was a lovely flight in business class with a free meal and a separate bathroom from the plebe.

The Chicago to Paris flight, on the other hand was in economy class, which is fine cuz, as you can tell from the previous paragraph, I'm no snob. However, right off the bat this 7-year-old boy who was sitting next to us started talking. Yapping really. It was an ominous sign to a long and sleepless night.

I might exaggerate sometimes, but I kid you not when I tell you that the kid yapped non-stop from the time we took off to the time we landed. It was a 9-hour flight during which 8 hours were spent yapping away and one hour going to the bathroom and walking aimlessly in the forbidden aisles of business class, where he got kicked out of.

Anyhow, curiously enough; his mother, father and sister were all sitting in adjacent seats in the row in front of him. He was the only member of his OWN family that was sitting in the row next to ours. Did his mom KNOW something we didn't???

So as I mentioned and reitterated, the kid's yapping continued through the night, even after the lights went out and most of the passengers went to sleep. It got so bad that Diesel woke up from the little sleep he could get with the sole purpose of shushing the boy. Even after a loud SHHHHH the boy continued yapping--I guess in his defense I have to say that he turned it down a tad. But he did NOT, I repeat, did NOT stop talking.

The next morning breakfast was being served, and the flight attendants went around with the drinks cart. Upon being asked what he wanted, the boy said: "coffee."

COFFEE? COFFEE??? NO WONDER!!!!! The flight attendant was taken aback and had to confirm with the boy's mom that he was allowed to have some. Unfazed, the mother--who let me remind you, was NOT sitting next to her own son--replied with an emphatic "YES."

Judge me if you want, but it just seems unfair to me that a parent would give her already hyperactive kid nature's version of Red Bull and let him go wild on a night flight annoying the hell out of the other passengers (and by "other passengers" I mean ME), when what he really needed was a big dose of ridelin.

All I can say is that after that, French will never again be the language of l'amour et romance; instead, it'll be forever tarnished by the boy that wouldn't shut up.