Saturday in Paris

Every trip I've been on in the last few years has taught me something. This time around I learned that my walking stamina (pretty big after a few years in Europe) and my zeal for museums (part of a lifetime of nerdiness) can lead me to overdo it. I walked Mom from our hotel down the Champs-Elysees (it really didn't look that far on the map) through the Jardin des Tuileries (mom was a little sculpture weary, but loved the Victorian Carousel) to the courtyard of the Lourve and then over to the Musee d'Orsay for more walking.

When we got back to the hotel, we collapsed into bed and slept until nearly midnight. Then, we went down for a late dinner in our hotel. The restaurant was a little place run by a down at the heel chef from Sardinia. He told stories about his glory days -- cooking for Pavarotti ("I made 65 kilos of antipasti -- nice tomato, nice courgette, nice aubergine and he took it like this" -- he acted out Pavarotti delicately picking up a vegetable and then inhaling it). He was warm and ebullient and hovered over us telling us how to eat. He was drinking with some of his customers -- John and John --an ancient Englishman who has lived in Paris for 30 years and one of his English students. The pair come into the restaurant once a week and they included us in their gathering. It was not the "clubbing" mom had planned, but the characters were right up my alley. :)

View of the balcony in our hotel room.

View from the balcony.


Nae Nae (before she nearly lost the will to live)

At the Place de la Concorde

The Carousel