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Our time is coming to an end here in Paris.   Though we’ve been here for only 7 days it feels much longer as we’ve done so much.  Last night we had a wonderful evening hosted by good friends who also invited other good friends.  Eight of us for dinner — it was quite the evening.  The noise level was quite high — we were all animated — though I’m not sure why.  Maybe everyone was simply happy to be together — a gathering prompted by our surprise visit in the middle of January.  The evening ended with a treat that we brought along — a Gallete des Rois (galette of the kings).  This is a cake/pastry that is traditionally baked on Jan. 6 – Epiphany.  But over time it became not only a cake for that day but for all of January, even starting around Dec. 24.  Thus, as of Feb. 1, one cannot find this in any pastry shop. I knew about the galettes because a French teacher I had in D.C. taught Nancy and I how to make them.  Well — she showed us – I’m not sure we learned.  Thus, walking around on the first day I spotted them in the windows of pastry shops.  Usually they have a paper gold crown atop them.  George and I went early in the day yesterday to get one from a local bakery –and as luck would have it, it was super delicious.

When the Galette is served, a child goes under the table and says the name of a person at the table — that person gets the next piece of the galette.  And so it continues until everyone gets a piece in random order — based on the names the child calls out.  Then, as each person eats the one who finds the charm gets crowned and gets to pick a mate from to also get crowned.  If it is boy who gets the charm, he picks a girl and visa versa.  it is great fun.  And that’s what we did.  No one got under the tale but our hostess covered her eyes and called out the name of the guests in random order.

Since so many of you have said you like the photos of food and comments about them I’m going to include a few more here.  First — George and I made chorag after we learned about the correct flour to use.  Inspired by our nephew Doug, we have now done this twice.  It came out great — and we took some to our friends who had Doug’s chorag when they were in the States.

Above are a few things we won’t try…. a meringue wedding cake and some tarts to die for. I’ve posted some like this before but these were from two days ago.  So amazing…. and soooo delicious.

one very cold rainy afternoon we walked a mile plus to a relatively new development called BeauPassage. They took an old alley way and transformed it into a modern assortment of restaurants and other shops. One of the restaurants is vegetarian and a gin-bar. What better way to spend a rainy afternoon in Paris? The entrance to the passage has a red fantasy tree molded around the walls. We are upstairs – George has a gin and grapefruit cocktail while I stuck with red wine. Dinner? Grilled sardines followed by broiled white fish and fish and chips.

The rice was a take-off in Persian rice–with sweet-sour red berries in it. Very tasty. You’ll note from the menu that the name of the restaurant is MerSea –mer is French for sea.

January. We decided to take a quick trip to Paris despite it being winter and many sane folks are heading south. But here we are and despite the cold temperatures we are having a nice time. After arriving via Iceland we went to sleep it seemed for the first two days. We woke up in time trip host our friends Sarah and Scott for lunch. Sarah, better know as Chef Sarah to the Paris Cooking With Class world, came prepared to teach me how to make a simple (simple for her!) French tart with an almond cream topped with pears. We forgot to take a photo of our working together but I will attach a photo of the half-eaten tarts. I did work along side her as she demonstrated techniques for making a really fluffy crust. As one who usually leaves the crust I can tell you that I would never leave this crust. It was super flaky and delicious. I learned, too, about the different kinds of flour that are sold in France. It explains why when I tried to bake bread here last visit i failed. Unlike in the US the flour has a number on it: T45 is for pastry, T 55 is all purpose, and T 65 is for bread. I had used pastry flour for bread and it didn’t work.

I don’t have a lap top and am writing on my iPhone. Editing and getting stuff inserted where I want it isn’t easy. We’ll see how this works out.

I should add that after a lot of research and a hint from friends who travel I decided to convert George’s old iPhone to a French phone so that we don’t have to worry about data charges. It is great! We can be out on the street now and call Uber without Att getting their cut.

Yesterday we met friends for lunch at a fish restaurant called La Criee(the first e should have an accent). The food was really good -much better than what I remembered. Ladies at the table next to us we’re having lobster. Our friends told us that the lobster here is not as good as in New England despite being very expensive. They went on to tell the story of the first time they had lobster in Maine -sitting outdoors at a picnic bench the lobsters were “thrown down on the table” and everyone just dug in. They were shocked since in Paris it is served only with great elegance. We had a good laugh. George ordered a filet of bar(small white fish). However he got a whole fish after the waiter explained that he made a mistake and was it ok to serve the whole fish at no extra charge.

I had three tartines– each a different fish prepared as a salad and put on top of avocado. The cup holds ginger sauce for the salmon. All delicious. And those are sliced potatoes that have been seasoned and fried quickly.

After lunch we headed to the Musee Marmottan-Monet to see a special exhibit of impressionists from private collections. I’m showing below several from the permanent collection since you might not have seen these. They speak for themselves. All of the Japanese bridge over the Lilly pond at Giverny.

Settling in… Paris

We’ve been following the horrific events at home this past week and trying to deal with what these murders say is happening in our country.  We are deeply saddened and horrified at the racism and anti-Semitism these represent.  This blog not the place for me to say anything more — so I won’t.  More will come later.  

For some reason, we’ve been continuing to sleep in late each day, and not getting out until 1 or 2 p.m. or later!  It is actually quite nice to have the luxury to do that — and we’re taking advantage of it.  Since I wrote last we’ve been quite busy despite our late starts.   I’ll show you some of what we’ve seen at two exhibitions and some fun window shopping.  But first — a cup of hot chocolate after braving the cold walking around the Luxembourg Gardens.  Hot chocolate — served in a cup, thick chocolate at the bottom to which one adds warm milk as desired.  This is quite the treat.

We didn’t have anything sweet with the hot chocolate, but just look at this meringue tower we saw not far from here.

The Alberto Giacometti exhibit is at the Musée de Maillot, in the 7th, on rue de Grenelle. We met our friends there and spent the next hour viewing these beautiful works which none of us had ever seen.  I didn’t know that Giacometti had a cubist period… but here were several sculptures from that period.  This one was especially engaging… called the The Couple.  They really are quite the pair!

The piece de resistance, however, was the Walking Man, which stands 6 ft. tall, and is haunting in its other worldliness — at least to me.  In the exhibit, one comes across this piece as one turns to the left and is suddenly confronted by the view you see below.  I was startled — and I think I let out a soft gasp.  Look at his feet….

.Walking Man from the front.

Giacometti worked hard on the eyes of his subjects — their gaze being something he worked over and over again.   Below is another — but on a much smaller scale – perhaps 14 inches in height.

Above are 4 women rising up out of the bronze block.  They are prostitutes — I don’t think he liked women very much.   They are only shown as static figures, without movement.  These are only about 18 inches in height.

At an exhibit at the Grand Palais about Venice in the 18thc, we saw the sculpture below by Antonio Couradini (1752).  How he made stone to look like a delicate and transparent veil covering her face left us in awe.   What a contrast between the two artists.

The other figure that caught my attention was this one.  I didn’t note who did it, but what made me take a second look was the chain in orange, making it clear that the man holding the urn was a slave.  I am still working on trying to figure this one out…. any thoughts, anyone?

No time to add the window shopping here — I’ll save that for the next blog.

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Paris, October 2018

After a whirlwind time in Lincoln, back and forth to the Cape, home and family, we finally boarded our United flights to Newark and then to Paris. I’m not sure we’ll do that again, because Newark is much to busy a hub. Flights in and out were delayed and thus we were sitting around waiting because air traffic control had too much on their radar. Finally we boarded and all went well. Arrival at Charles De Gaulle was easy – though over one hour late, our bags were on the carrousel, a taxi was available, but then it was stop and go all the way out of the airport, through Paris and home.   As I always say, just reporting, not complaining…. And probably all of these are of little interest, but simply to say that by the time we arrived into our apartment we collapsed.

The weather has been good –sunny, warmish, and with a cool breeze. We made every effort to get into the sun to reset our internal clocks, but it has been difficult. Jetlagged we’ve been up most of the night and then sleeping in, or as one says in French, “J’ai fait la grasse matinee” (accent is missing). I’ve recently learned this expression thus felt compelled to slip it in! Jetlag has been so bad that we even missed our coveted market day on Saturday morning.  I did manage later in the day to go out a bit to buy some bread from our local bakery (Our neighbors had stocked our refrig with staples enough for a few days.  All we needed was bread). As you can see more than bread is sold here.

I resisted the other goodies and I didn’t want to look like a tourist taking photos of everything — as I waited on line for my bread. But when I was outside I couldn’t resist taking photo of these gigantic eclairs, filled I’m sure with delicious custard.  Figs are in season and can be seen here decorating the cake and tarts. This boulangerie/patisserie is quite small with little room inside for customers. By the time I had my bread and left, the line was out the door.

I walked along the sunnyside of the street and noticed for the first time the beautiful ironwork on this building which I’ve passed many times.

The blue door and the blue painted ironwork are unusual for Paris.  You can see from the shadows that it is late afternoon.

The next day we headed to the 11th for dinner with Sarah and Scott, our friends who bicycled from Paris to South Africa (Yes — that’s what they did taking other transportation to cross bodies of water such as the Dardanelles!).  They bicycle all over Paris without trepidation.  But for us, getting to the 11th was well out of our comfort zone, despite it being an up and coming arrondissement with new trendy restaurants — none of which we’ve tried. We went, however,  to try out a new Japanese vegan restaurant. (You read it right)… It took  45 minutes to get there — line #6 to Etoile and from there #2 , 21 stops to Courconnes.

Using the metro is easier than figuring out buses , just follow the arrows.  Walking and stairs are required, however.  Fortunately, despite our groans and moans, we can still manage.

We asked directions when we got out and walked about 7 minutes to the restaurant.  For the first time we saw shops that sell the garments for Moslem women.  One after the other — there were shops with head scarves, veils, long garments — hijabs. Some were quite elegant with sparkling embroidery.  (no photos taken)

The cuscine at Toutofu was delicious — the specialty being tofu (made on the premises), as well as noodles of rice and wheat.  We had lentils with tofu, and a noodle dish, but the best was the pancake of mushrooms and leeks.  We’d go back but it was too difficult and long to get there.  We circled back by metro in the opposite direction which was much better – thus we completed a huge loop around Paris that evening.  

Another form of transportation, new since we were here last, is the electric scooter accessed by scanning the barcode on the handle –and off you go.  Leave the scooter where ever you want, pick it up whenever you want.  Lots of people are using them.

We could have used one of these the next day.  It was Monday and we headed to Rue Cler to get provisions for a dinner we were planning — fresh pasta with real Parmagiano-Reggiano cheese.  I found a nice recipe for aglio olio, with slowly simmered sliced garlic in oil but I needed the real parmagiano to make it special.  The cheese shop we frequent is closed on Mondays, so we hoped to find one on Rue Cler.  We did,  but our fish store was closed and thus we headed to Picards for the frozen stuff — second best.  We got directions to the closest Picards (famous all over France), and when we finished our shopping, we had apparently lost track of how far we had walked from Rue Cler.  As navigator, I made a few turns here and there, and before we knew it we were lost!  Yikes… for the first time in many years — we were lost in Paris and not all that far from home (maybe a mile or so).  and in our own arrondissement.  I’d forgotten that the back streets between the boulevards here were pie-shaped and criss-crossed — down one does not lead directly to the next one.  Well — we discovered a number of lovely shops while we worked our way out of the maze.  This one was especially wonderful with bridal gowns, and ballet-like dresses for young girls.  Gorgeous!   By the time we reached home (having taken Bus #28 for the last bit) we walked over 3 miles.

Yesterday was George’s birthday.  We celebrated with our neighbors with a fun fun dinner at a new local restaurant.  But during the day we headed to Paris’ Lost and Found which is in the arrondissement next to ours (fortunately), the 15th.  It was a short bus ride to retrieve the wallet of a friend who had had his pocket picked when last in Paris more than a month ago.  The wallet was found, and he received an official letter giving him 3 months within which to claim it, along with instructions on how to do so.  We were armed with the necessary documents and with my passport in hand, we accomplished the task.  Just outside of the station house was a big park edged with this beautiful hedge with bright red berries — almost like a holly. 

Dinner with friends at night.  What a night — we laughed so so hard at one funny story after another.  But the funniest was this:   earlier our friend Caroline had written to suggest the perhaps George and I would like to have a night out ‘en amoureux’… I wrote back and said no… we’d love to go the 5 of us (all speak wonderful English, including their daughter).  So after we left the restaurant, and a bit giddy from the bottle of champagne we’d consumed, I said something about ‘en amoureux’ but my friend looked at me wondering what I was talking about.  It seems that the way I pronounced ‘amoureux’ it came out to mean ‘a codfish’.  Well, they couldn’t stop laughing and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it right… “romantic time” turned into ‘a codfish”… I still can’t say it…. but I won’t stop trying. !!

The days are flying by now and we’ve less than a week left to enjoy our time here.  Much has happened since I last wrote — I’m not sure where to begin.  Probably the best place is what we did yesterday and then I’ll work my way back.   I’m going to give it a little theme… Armenian Happenings in Paris.

A couple of days ago when we were on our way to meet friends in the 13th for lunch, as we were coming down a very long flight of stairs from the elevated metro #6, George saw a young boy with a tee shirt that said, “ARMENIA”.  George yelled out, “Inch bes es?” which means ‘how are you?” The boy and the two men he was with turned and came toward us and what followed was fairly typical among Armenians on such a random meeting.  Conversation was in Armenian — they speak French but no English — Hellos — who are you? where are you from? What are you doing here?  How can we help you? Do you need anything?… and then, “You must come home with us, my wife will want to meet you.”   It is a good thing we had a lunch date, otherwise we would have been carried off to their home.  (Do you see any resemblances?)

We did go on to have a great time with our cyclist friends (they cylcled from Paris to South Africa). We ate outdoors, vegan food, and had nearly 3 hours of good conversation.  Now, getting back to the Armenian theme, there are a couple of good sources for Armenian food (made by Armenians in Paris) and sold in grocery shops.  One place is Hratchian Brothers, in the 9th, but it is a bit far for us.  Closer to home we found a Middle Eastern grocery that has delicious delicacies and excellent bread.

Apricot jelly from Armenia to die for, and lavash — lavash bread to rival the best.

Yesterday was April 24 — the day Armenians commemorate the Armenian Genocide.  It is the day that the Ottoman Turks rounded up 250 of our leaders — writers, poets, musicians, clergy, political thinkers, professors and leading businessmen and murdered them.   Gomidas, whose statue is below, was one of those arrested.  He was a priest, composer and ethno-musician who gathered Armenian songs from villages in the countryside and annotated them.  He was imprisoned, but not murdered.  He lost his mind, however, given what he saw and died in Paris where he is buried.  Every year the Armenian community of Paris gathers here, at his statue, for the April 24th commemoration.  Usually the President of France comes to address the crowd.  We’ve heard Holland and Sarkozy here, and we understand that Macron came last year.  Alas — he is in Washington, D.C. this week and so he will miss seeing us!

We are always amazed at the number of young people who come and the fact that they all speak Armenian.  (Those kids on the right are wearing tee shirts of famous Armenian soccer players. The one on the left is wearing a photo of an Armenian hero (from California)  who led the victories during the War of Independence of Karabagh and was killed there.

I approached the woman I’m photographed with above because she was holding a photo I wanted to ask her about.  We were talking and talking — and suddenly we looked at each other and both said, “I know you!”  And we did.  We hadn’t seen each other in a couple of years, but George and I have been working with her sister on a book about the French Foreign Legion and the Armenians who fought in it. She and her husband have a barge docked in the St. Maartin canal (10th) that is a venue of various types of performances — musicians, bands, ethnic music performances — with a cafe/bar. She lives in Paris.

Earlier when we first arrived we headed to the church (where we had never been) for the Armenian mass and there we met another long time friend whom we hadn’t seen in years.

People were swarming in from all sides and the crowd began to swell within the area roped off by the police.  I should add that the location for this event is on the banks of the Seine, in the 8th. and so it is quite beautiful all around.  We had arrived at 4 pm, gone to the church for an hour or so, and now back here at the event location which was to start at 6 p.m.  We knew from past years that the program would last more than an hour and would be mostly in French.  So — what do we do?  We went for dinner!

We know of a brassiere close by that is pretty good and so we went and enjoyed a glass of wine and a light supper with cassis sorbet for dessert. Then walked the short distance back to the event in time to join in the march to the Turkish Embassy.  Well — truth be told — we didn’t make it all the way and headed home on the bus #28 which we had taken to get there.

Our nephews have been here for several days and left yesterday for Normandy.  But, while here, I’ve learned a couple of things…. George and I had been wondering what the orange bikes were that we’ve been seeing around the neighborhood..

We have been seeing these bikes in random locations, without locks and have been wondering what they are.  Our nephew who lives in Berlin filled us in.  Unlike the bikes for rent by the city which are lined up in racks and are grey, these are a private venture.  They are accessed by an app, the code is given that opens the lock (there is one) and you can ride the bike for a small fee for 20 minutes.  Then,,, you just leave the bike where ever you are.  There are electric motor scooters, too, that operate in the same way.  They even have a helmet tucked into a compartment in the scooter.  

Backtracking here a bit in days I do want to give you a little bit more about Paris and what we’ve been doing.  The first day that our nephews were here (with a girlfriend, too) we went to one of our favorite restaurants — Le Récamier — on a side street closed to vehicles, not far from the Bon Marché (department store).  The specialty here is soufflé

We had made reservations but inside was tooo hot and we didn’t want to sit outside since there would be a good chance someone would start smoking and ruin our meal.  We were lucky and got seated between — a covered area where smoking was not allowed, but was not too hot either.   These are the main course soufflés –mushroom, spinach, chicken.  Then we had dessert…. yes, of course, dark chocolate soufflés.  Each soufflé is served with a extra of whatever you are having — one pokes a hole in the middle and pours the extra into it. These are truly decadent and over-the-top delicious.

Before we left owner and chef Gerard Idoux came out and was happy to have a photo taken with us all. We were feeling great having downed two bottles of excellent wine and eaten to our hearts content. 

It was too early to go home and decided to head to Le Marais (the 4th)  — the Jewish quarter of Paris before WWII.  The Shoah Museum is here, though small, is powerful especially as it is set in the Jewish quarter where much of the history recorded took place.   In addition, the memorial to the Martyrs de la Deportation — the 200,000 people deported by Vichy France to Nazi camps — is another site one shouldn’t miss when visiting Paris.  It is behind the Notre Dame and in what were once tombs, not too far from here.

Just as we got to Le Maris and I was pointing out the Pompidou we noticed a placard announcing a free concert at 4 p.m. in the church we were standing in front.  We went in and had a cool one hour of wonderful music — Brahms, Beethoven and Debussy — piano and violin of extraordinary quality.  By the time we finished and walked a bit more, our group was hungry.  We opted for an outdoor cafe, hamburgers (fish burgers for us) before heading home, a light rain falling.  

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It is so nice to get  many positive comments and to know friends and family are enjoying these travel blogs of mine.  I almost didn’t include the photos of the playful cakes, because I feel that I’m putting too much emphasis on pastries. Glad I did — they seem to have been a hit.   It is hard not to focus on food as it is everywhere here in Paris.  Food is obviously very important — and high quality food at that.  Although one sees some signs of what we think of as junk food creeping into the scene, for the most food is real food and well made.  It is hard to get a bad meal in Paris — though not impossible.

We took the #70 bus again… this time crossing the Seine to the Right Bank. We got off at Chatelet and walked the rest of the way to the museum but before doing so I snapped the photo below of the Palais of Justice and the prison where Marie Antoinette and many others were held during the revolution.   

Before getting to the Pompidou, I thought I’d mention a couple of things that are useful to know when coming to Paris for the first time. When you ride the metro or the buses, always keep your white ticket (which is stamped in the meter when you get on). ‘Checkers’ sometimes wait at the exits to be sure everyone paid.  You have to show them your ticket in order to get out.  

And, as many of you know — you won’t ever get l’addition (the bill) in a restaurant without asking for it.  And, the wait staff NEVER comes by to ask if everything is OK after serving you.  They assume it is — otherwise you would say something.  And, never call a waiter garςon.  Waiters and waitresses are referred to as monsieur or madame.  

See that structure below that says TOILETTES.  I’ve never used one but I’ve heard they are really good when needed.  The charge is 50 cents per use.  If you use it, don’t hold the door open to let someone else in.  BECAUSE — when you slide the door closed, the entire inside is sprayed with a cleaning agent.  If someone else sneaks in to use the facility on the same 50cents, they will be sprayed as soon as the door closes.  I don’t know how many people have had a wash down, but I think a few have.  Have a good chuckle!  I think of it everytime I see one of these.  

In the background and the photos below you see the Pompidou which is in the 4th arrondissement, the only one that has a special name —Le Marais — as far as I know.   It is on the Right Bank… 

 I’ve rarely heard a Parisian refer to the Right or Left Banks.  Instead, they refer to location by arrondissement — which is an administrative district.  (There are 20 arrondissements, with #1 in the center -the first settlement of Paris — and each successive one continuing in clockwise fashion as it came into being.  The Seine runs through the center of the city, and the arrondissements circle around it).  The arrondissement  of an address is always given when someone is telling you where a place is. 

President of France George Pompidou commissioned the structure in the early 1970s.  It houses the largest collection of modern art in Europe.  You can imagine that it was not embraced by Parisians initially, but most, I think, now appreciate its innovative design and beauty.  We rode to the top on consecutive escalators after viewing the Sheila Hicks exhibit and had lunch with views of Paris all around us.

Sheila Hicks — weaver and worker with yarn.  What a gorgeous installations.  (That’s me, not her!)

Some of her most exquisite work were the small weavings seen here on the back wall.  Unfortunately, the glare was too much such that I couldn’t photograph them.

Since a child she has carried a notebook with her to make sketches.  Here is one of them.  Below you see some of the works in another major show here at the Pompidou — Chagall, Lissitzky, Malevitch — the Russian Avant-Gard in Vitebsk.  I’m including only two here — this one of Chagall flying over his town.  

And the one below – entitled simply ‘Above the City.”  (1914-1918)

And one more that George and I both loved…. entitled: The visit of the self-portrait (1918).   So interesting to contemplate 

A view of Paris through the dirty windows of the top floor — the Sacre Coeur is in the distant on the right.  

Georges — the restaurant at the top of the Pompidou Center. 

The sun shines,  the sky is blue and we’re thoroughly enjoying these days.  After our very leisurely morning coffee and a light breakfast, we decide what to do and where to go if nothing has been planned.  Sunday, we went to Luxembourg Gardens, and Monday we made a trip to the Pompidou Centre as we did not want to miss the Sheila Hicks show which ends April 30.   (Also –museum closing have to be checked as some are closed on Mondays, and others on Tuesday.s.. which the Pompidou is. Monday worked out well).

The city, at least our part of Paris, has emptied out of Parisians as it is school vacation week and many families leave for the countryside.  It doesn’t mean Paris is without — because families and school kids from around Europe descend on Paris as many countries share the same spring break.

For those who might not of had the pleasure of walking these gardens, Luxembourg is a huge park with something for everyone.  This open space bordered by these wonderful yellow flowers is in front of the French Senate building, behind where I am standing to take this photo.  The flowers and colors will change through the spring and summer. 

Some people come to sit and think, to read, or to have a chat with a friend. 

Others come to play chess or bocce, and some come to watch those playing.  

The kids come to sail their little boats on the lake or to take a ride on the carousel (no photo — it was too far from us)

We took a couple of seats here and enjoyed the comings and going of others while relaxing a bit. We were actually happy that the clouds moved in as it was too hot walking under the full sun.

Then we made our way out walking down one of these wonderful paths under a canopy of trees.  In addition to the Senate building,  there is an exhibition museum on the grounds which currently has a show of Tintoretto.  

Did I say that we walked the mile from our place to the Luxembourg Gardens?  We did and did the usual window gazing on the way.  We happened upon a special order cake-making shop and couldn’t resist taking these photos.   They give their web site and instructions that if you want to information go across the street to #23.  

What fun!!  Unfortunately, we couldn’t have a taste!  

Some months ago we made plans for this Saturday to visit friends of friends who are now also our friends, who live about an hour to the south of Paris.   It was hard to come up with a date because this week is school vacation week and so many people (including our friends) are off and will be going away.    The plan, which worked perfectly, was to visit the town of Dourdan which is close by to our friend’s home, to see the sites there and visit the grave of  Roustum Raza, the Armenian mamluk — bodyguard, servant, confident — of Napoleon I, who is buried there.   Raza was born in Tiflis, George to Armenian parents in 1783.  He was kidnapped as a young boy and sold as a slave 6 times until he was “given to Napoleon by the sheikh of Cairo in 1798” (Wikipedia).  He died in Dourdan in 1845.  Some years ago I had come across his name and read his memoirs in French posted (public domain) online, Our friends (one of whom is also Armenian) knew of our interest and arranged the visit to his grave site.  He was with Napoleon for 16 years. I just discovered that his memoir has been published in English – 2014.

This is as good as I can get these photos posted here.  I’m sorry the writing is small and not readable.  The stone we are standing next to, is an Armenian khatchkar, which is not a tomp stone, but a commemoration stone and can be found all over Armenia.  (An 11th century khatchkar was gifted to the U.N. by Armenia when it began independent and was admitted to the U.N. It is stunning in its beauty).  This was is in memory of Roustam and also of the Armenian men who fought and died in the French Foreign Legion after WWI against the Turks.  Roustam’s tomb is to the left of his wife’s who was from Dourdan and the reason he lived here after leaving Napoleon’s service.  This was the first time we were in a French cemetery.  We were told that they are all the same without any grass or trees — just paved walkways with slabs marking burial places.

This fortress town was built 4 years starting in 1223.  The plan is below.  the towers were high but during the Religious Wars and the 100 Years War, the walls and towers were reduced to 1/3 their original size, as you see above.  

Two prisons remained — one in the outside wall and one in the interior of the fortress.  Our friend is trying to get us to go in, but we all decided against it.  

Within the walls of the fortress was the Chateau of Phillippe Auguste. It is now a museum.  I think these two men are resting — as I know George doesn’t understand a word of the video he is intently watching!  

The church’s original foundation was said to have been laid by Charlemagne’s mother in the 7th century.  It was closed during the French Revolution and then used as a prison.  It was restored and reopened in 1869.   

From the walls of the fortress — one sees how the town has built up outside.  And people have to live and enjoy life and so there is, of course, cake to eat!! Scroll through the 3 slides….. 

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We’re been here just under a week and we finally got on a bus for the first time.  We took the #70 to St. Germain.  Surprisingly in the middle of the day (well — almost — it was 2:00 pm) the bus was packed probably because it is  Friday and the start of spring break for school kids.  We edged our way to the middle of the bus toward the seats reserved for ‘old folks’.  A young gal got up and I took her seat.  With that, when I heard English being spoken among her friends, I asked where she was from.  “Australia,” she said with a smile indicating she was open to starting a conversation.  “And the others?” I asked.  As it turned out the others were all from Paris and taking part in an exchange program.  She is here for one month and the others will be going to Australia at some point.  She loves the program and was clearly quite excited.  She is graduating from high school this year.  In response to my asking what she planned to do next, she said (to my surprise), “Join the army.  I want to give back to my country.”  She told me it was not compulsory.  After that she will figure out what to do.  They got off at the Bon Marche stop — giddy and clearly having a great time together.

We almost missed our stop as I was still thinking about her response, when George noted that we were approaching the Seine .  If we had crossed over we’d have been on the Right Bank (and clearly, for our purposes today, the Wrong Bank!)  We got off on Rue Dauphine just in time.  I’ve attached a map here so that you can see the maze of streets in the 6th, bordered by the 1er to the north, the 7er on the west and the 5er arrondissemont on the east

A road map of St. Germain area, We got off on Rue Douphine and walked away from the Seine.  From there we crossed over rue de Buci, to rue de Seine,  Walked up and down both sides window gazing.  Eventually we made our way through the indoor market near St. Sulpice and caught the #70 in front of the church back home.  The market place which used to be all food and restaurants now has a huge Apple store and a Uniqlo clothing store (started in Japan and now word-wide.  We love their stuff especially for kids. 

Rue Dauphine — the traffic light are at the bridge crossing over the Seine.

By this time we thought we deserved an ice cream so we ordered two very small cups at Amorino.  They also serve hot chocolate and crepes with ice cream or whipped cream.  Across the street was a cafe  with, I am sure, fake flowers decorating the canopy. (photo below)

I couldn’t resist taking a shot of this waiter leaning up against one of the posts along the street (to prevent people from parking there.) He looks so happy and relaxed.  Why not — everyone is in good spirits.   

We are very happy eating our first Amorino here.  Though good, it is not the best.  We prefer Grom Gelato on rue de Seine, but the service  there is  slow and there is always a line. 

Most of the fun is in window shopping.  These are two of several primitive monsters which are decorating this shops’ windows.  Humorous and creative!  I think they are selling shoes and handbags.   The theme ‘primitive’ comes from the theme in the area for these months: Paris Tribal

Gotta’ take a break now and then ….. 

Another cutie — !! (not the lady in the reflection)

Mulot is a wonderful bakery a couple of blocks away, close to the St. Sulpice.  But here they have a small shop selling specialties.  Wow — were we tempted.  These tartes are as good as they look. I learned today that if a pastry shop is selling pastries made off-premises they must write that on the card describing the pastry.  Otherwise, everything is made right where you buy it.  

One of the goodies in  the window of Mulot’s which we passed on our way home.  Two young women were seated in the window next to this tower eating a cream filled something with berries and cake.  Each was holding one and biting into it.    As we walked by George started scratching at the window…. they began to laugh hard, as we were, because they suddenly realized what a picture they made.  (but I didn’t take one.)

At about 4 pm we decided to have a kir (cassis and white wine) at a cafe on the corner of rue de Buci and Blvd. St. Germain.  We were just going to have a kir, but then decided it would be good to eat something.  We ordered the cheese plate.  It was double what we expected — and served with huge chunks of great bread.  So we sat and ate, and ate, and ate.  The people-watching was terrific.  Two women sat next to us.  We struck up a conversation as they were Americans (very few have we seen up to now)  The younger woman’s daughter has been here for a year studying in NYU’s Paris program.  She loved it and now is going to NYU in NY.  We helped them out with some directions and made our way home but not before one more stop. 

As we turned a corner onto rue St. Sulpice we happened on this tiny chocolate shop with chocolate from all over the world.  They don’t sell candy, but fudge and chocolate in the form as you see above.  But we also spied a small freezer which was in the front with ice cream in the small containers as you can see below.  We bought this one — pistachio ice cream from Iran.  We couldn’t resist.  It cost a small fortune (17 euros)… which almost made me turn it down, but we went for it.  We’ll let you know how it is — it is still in our freezer.

April in Paris is a song written by a man who had never been to Paris and had no idea what the weather in April could be like.  It could be rainy and awful, which it was just after he wrote that song and which caused a lot of angry letters to be sent to him.  But right now, it is wonderful, warm and simply beautiful  Folks here are relieved as winter was exceptionally cold, with a lot of snow — unusual for Paris.  Our trip from Boston was not without incident.  First, water was detected in the fuel tanks of our aircraft  necessitating the emptying of the tanks and refueling (1 1/2 hours).  We were assured that we’d make our connection and sure enough — thanks to Icelandic Air and a relatively small airport — the flight to Paris waited.  We arrived on time, disembarked and made our way to the passport control area where we were directed.  (last trip there was no passport control coming from Iceland)  Well — it seems there was this time, but no control officers were present.  After about 20 minutes of waiting, our plane load of people started getting a bit agitated and simply decided to go through the gates.  That’s what we all did only to find that we couldn’t locate our luggage which was supposedly at conveyer #2.  Well — #2 was down, way way down the corridor, hidden behind closed doors which no one had thought to open.  Finally all worked out and we were in a cab on our way ‘home.’  One simply has to have a sense of humor when traveling.

The days since our arrival have been sleepy but active, too.  Shopping for food, getting settled, emailing friends, confirming dates and checking for exhibitions to visit.  I am on a email list for a prestigious gallery (don’t know how we got on it), and thus was sent an invite to Art in Paris, 20th anniversary held at the Grand Palais.  The week before we arrived I requested 4 tickets by email , and amazingly, the tickets were at the gate waiting for us and our neighbors with whom we went.

Below– I love these on board tv views following the aircraft’s progress.  Here we see the plane approaching Iceland.  The white mass on the left is Greenland.   When the two countries were named, those in charge of naming decided to fool people:  Greenland is all ice, and Iceland is all green (well — relatively so.)  

A shot of Les Invalides and the musée de l’Armée  en route to the Grand Palais .  Below we are taking a rest with our neighbors.  And yes, I’m wearing my Armenian Hermès scarf.

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