A day-by-day- account of our eight days and seven nights in Paris.

Tuesday, 11 June: land at Charles de Gaulle airport, 07:15. Excuse me, the Galactic Charles de Gaulle airport. You look at this place, and all you can say is, Space-Age. From the moving sidewalks that wander up ramps and through tubes as you stare up at the smooth, rounded beams across the ceiling, all that comes to mind is The Jetsons. Finding our ride, and he finding the others he was supposed to pick up, we go for a fun little drive into Paris in a van, our seats lower to the ground than the driver's, into the 9th Arrondissement.

So very little sleep was had on the plane, but we couldn't check in until 13:30. Drop off the luggage at the Tulip Inn (Rue Richer, 9e Arr.) and decide to wander. First thing we see is a big, old fountain. In the middle of an apartment courtyard. The thing is older than any structure in New York City, and it's just sitting there as if this is normal. I shake my head. Jenny, armed with the map, points us toward various interesting little spots as we head toward the Louvre. It's closed on Tuesdays, as we knew, so this is a nice time to appreciate the outside of the place. First, however, we go up the Samaritaine department store to take in the view of Paris. (A few weeks later, we realize that Matt Damon did just this in The Bourne Identity, but that doesn't take away from the experience.) After soaking this in for a while, we head down to Louvre Town and hang out by Pei's Pyramids with various other French and non-French folk, eating lunches, babbling, dipping their feet in the water.

Now hungry, we hit a little cafe, like we constantly do that week, and have us a little food -- dejeuner by this point. Omelette full of ham and stuff for Dave, just a big hunk o' bread with butter and jam for Jenny. Le Relais du Louvre, it's called, 03 Rue de Louvre. Nice people-watching. We notice that all the cars are teeny compared to the States, for obvious reasons -- there's no room for big American cars on many of these ancient roads. So hallelujah, no SUVs! By the end of the week Jenny is seriously coveting a Smart Car...

So we finish up and head back to the hotel, check in, realize the air conditioner is going to absolutely suck, but eventually decide to just take a nap. Sleeping on the airplane didn't work so well -- anxious, we guess -- so we settle in for a five-hour nap. Hey, we'd already visited some cool spots, taken some pictures, and now felt it was best to rest up and have a nice dinner.

So we decided to look for a nice place nearby. That nice place came in the form of Le Pre Cadet, a couple blocks from the hotel. A 25€ dinner consisted of aperitif, appetizer, main course, and dessert. Cool! With a bottle of wine, 75€ total. Jenny's Roquefort salad was phenomenal -- huge chunks of cheese with the (incidental, at that point) greens -- and Dave's entree, the andouillette, was outstanding: basically pig guts in its intestinal casing, which the waiter tried his best to explain to me (complete with pointing to his own intestinal area), though we knew what Dave was eating -- mustard-encrusted, heavily spiced, and awesome. The kind of dinner you expect for twice that much in the USA.

A little walking in the late twilight, as it really doesn't get dark until 22:00 or so, capped our three-hour gastonomic delight. Time to rest up to face Wednesday in Paris.

Wednesday, 12 June: Braved the Metro -- really, braved isn't a good word for it, it's quite simple, not to mention clean -- and bought a carnet (10 tickets, 9.30€) and rode the train to the Place de la Concorde, home of a couple of lovely fountains and the Obelisk, former home of the guillotine of the French Revolution. Walked up toward the Arc de Triomphe along, well, the Champs d'Elysses, of course. Lots of shops, cafes, theaters, tourist depots, and so forth. Stopped in at what amounted to the tourist information site to get our five-day museum passes -- 45€ apiece for dozens of museums and churches: kind of a good deal! Once up the Arc, we took a bunch of pictures, of course, marveling at the architecture and the fine detail. How do people drive that traffic circle around the Arc? Decided to go back a different way, to go past the Ecole de l'Etats Unis, see if any Americans were walking around. For lunch, since we were in the area anyways, we were locals and bought a couple of baguettes with ham and cheese and strolled to the Palais du Chaillot across the street from la Tour Eiffel. Great view of the area, of course, and the Jardin de Trocadero stretches out between the Palais and the bridge connecting it with the Eiffel Tower. Apparently at certain times during the day, the water cannons in the fountains are turned on, making a major splash and cool pictures for those fortunate to see it. Ain't we lucky?

Anyhow, after staring at the fountains and the gardens for awhile, we head over the Pont d'Iena to look at the Tower up close and personal. We wander around underneath it for a few minutes, looking at the modest crowds, and decide we should come back at night to ascend when it's "prettier." We walk through the Champs de Mars to the Peace Monument directly opposide the Eiffel Tower. I gather it's a lovely, moving monument to peace, but the day we saw it someone had taken a couple shots at it and two panels were completely shattered. So much for peace. Jenny wants to cry.

We wander through Rue Cler and surrounded areas. We were here kind of after hours for Rue Cler--not very exciting. Rue Moufftard later in the week is everything you want a market to be. Then we wound up at yet another cafe. No one spoke English there and Jenny was brain-dead. So I wound up with a big cheese sandwich and an Amstel bier while watching Spain's World Cup match vs. South Africa.

We then wander to the Rodin Museum and take in the amazing body of work from Auguste Rodin. Of course the Thinker is in the Gardens, and so is his Gates of Hell. Our pictures of the Thinker consist of his butt, and one with a little bird atop his head. Such a lovely perch.

From there, it's on to Invalides, the final resting place of Napoleon. Damn, he had some serious money to throw around. Very ornate, very beautiful, a colossal waste of money.

Walking around after exiting the Invalides grounds, we traveled back toward the Champs de Mars and walk up close to the Ecole Militaire. You can see dozens, hundreds, of bullet holes in the outside walls of the school. Don't know when they came under such fire, but a good guess would be the Siege of Paris, followed by the Commune around 1870-1871. Caught some dinner across from the school, at l'Ecole Militaire (3 Place de l'Ecole Militaire, 7e Arr.). Menu was 11.90€ for an appetizer and a main course: how can you go wrong, drinking Bordeaux outside watching the beautiful people stroll by? Afterwards, we found a cross-stitch shop on a back street, tucked away, Un Pt C'est Tou, which Jenny loved.

By then it was dark enough, and we started the slow, slow ascent up the Eiffel Tower. The line was huge, and of course lots and lots of people were already at the observation decks, but we pressed on, along with hundreds of schoolkids and ugly Americans. We made a pact to try to not be pegged as Americans at that point. Anyhow, the Eiffel Tower is lovely and all, but really, 9.90€ to go to the top, look around, and deal with the HUGE crowds at 23:00 waiting to descend? Not really all that fun. Plus, pictures don't come out so well. We shoulda gone up during the afternoon. Ah, live and learn. Really quite a pain finding the Metro stop from the Eiffel Tower too, but eventually it appeared and we rode home, tired.

Thursday, 13 June: Notre-Dame day. Metroed out to L'Ile Cite to gawk at the really cool old cathedral. It was nice to see signs about that stressed proper attire inside the church, obviously aimed at Americans judging from how the loudest people were dressed. No matter. Photos abound from our experience. Atop the left turret, the view was lovely. The gargoyles were plentiful. The crowds were kept to a minimum by the circular staircase -- by now, the circular staircases were taking a toll on our legs, too -- but this afforded a comfortable, relaxed viewing. Very happy.

Afterwards, Dave enjoyed yet another omelette for lunch with a half-liter of a nice Cotes du Rhone (aside -- when Dave attempted to order the house red, the waiter made a face and said "Is no good. No," prompting the change to this nice wine), while Jenny contented herself with a ham and cheese sandwich, her tenth or eleventh of the trip. From there we explored the island. It's not terribly big, so the few streets were easy to cover. We found the restaurant Our Man Steve suggested, Au Vieux Paris (24 Rue Chanoinesse, 4e Arr.), and made a mental note that we should dress up and go there sometime later in the week. It didn't happen, but boy, did its menu ever look wonderful.

There's a lovely church, Sainte-Chapelle, in the same area as Notre-Dame. It's in the courtyard of the Palais de Justice. The Conciergerie was closed the week we were there; Jenny was sad because she wanted to see where Marie-Antoinnette spent her last days. Anyhow, the stained-glass work in this church has to be seen to be believed. Pictures don't do it justice, though we tried. There's a tall panel dedicated to each of many books and figures in the Bible, including a big rose window of Revelations. Breathtaking.

After this, we walked a bit through the market on Ile de la Cite and then over Pont St. Louis to wander the streets of Ile St. Louis with Berthillon ice cream in hand. Very delicious, but world's best? We then decided it was best to go shopping in the 5th. Jenny picked up a cute teapot at a store called Chaise Longue, passing on about a hundred other cute things. We sought out a brewpub with a quarter-page ad in the Time-Out Paris guide called the Frog and Princess on Rue de Princess, but to say it was disappointing would be generous. A new cooling unit for the beer was necessary that day, and it weren't pretty. Mmmm... beer warmed to over room temperature, and did we mention the paucity of air-conditioned businesses in Paris?

So we walked at a leisurely pace along Blvd. St. Germain. Peek in at St. Germain des Pres and press on to the Musee d'Orsay, famed for its large collection of Impressionist paintings. Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, all represented well here. It's very fun to look around yourself and think, That's a famous one, so's that, oh, look at that one, I know that one, I didn't know they had that one...

We were very hungry so we decided to give the restuarant in the museum a go. The food and wine were good, certainly, but overpriced, if 15€ for the menu du jour can be overpriced. Poor service could have put a damper on the enthusiasm, but we got over it thanks to the wonderful decor in the restaurant. Belle Epoque overload! Not being able to find our way out after they started locking doors sucked a little bit, though.

Friday, 14 June: Decided this would be our Louvre day. Jenny had already decided that art was excellent and all, but really now. So we picked several areas we really truly wanted to see, and skip through the rest. First stop is the Medieval Louvre exhibit, very cool to walk in the (water-free) moat. After this we moved on to Greek Sculpture, and then up the stairs past Winged Victory. Spent a long time in the Italian Paintings gallery-- wow. So many huge, impressive works of art -- mostly of Jesus, which was nice and all but really, how many consecutive paintings of Jesus' life can you take? -- in one long hall, through which all the Japanese tourists blazed in order to take their picture with the Mona Lisa. Same thing with the Venus de Milo, of course. It's fun to take pictures of the crowds taking pictures of the Very Important Stuff. The "Large-Format" French Paintings thrill Jenny. Tucked in amongst this splendor is Madame Recamier -- not large, but she's there. Jenny is more excited with this than silly old Lisa. The Napoleon Apartments are amazing. Absolutely gorgeous. And not crowded. And of course we had to stop and look at the Crown diamonds. We hope we get to go back someday. Jenny could spend weeks here.

So we bailed after several hours of famous artwork and impressive old Greek and Roman sculpture. We grabbed sandwiches and water and had a picnic of sorts in the Tuileries. This was the first day it truly started warming up, but we took the opportunity to walk along the Rue de Rivoli, looking at the spendy shops and hotels and whatnot. Hearing good things, Jenny wanted to stop into Angelina for pastries and coffee and tea, which of course we did. Wonderful food, if a bit pricey, and the service wasn't particularly good. But you're in an expensive area, and it's vacation, and how often do you get to treat yourself to really fine eclairs and baba rhum? And in a place famous for its hot chocolate, why is there no air-conditioning? It was 85 degrees outside and inside! Sure, we sound like whiny American tourists, but come on!

From there, it was back to trendy shopping. We head to Rue Royal, and pop into the Bernardaud shop to drool over china. We (okay, Jenny) wish we'd had tea in their tea salon because you get to pick the china you want to drink out of. Then into the Village Royal to the Haviland shop for more china drooling (one of us, anyhow). The sales clerk here was incredibly friendly; even after explaining that we "can't afford anything just now," she pulled out pieces for Jenny to look at in our pattern. She even photocopied the price list in case we wanted to order from home. They will ship of course. Paris shop assistants are so far beating the crap out of their New York contemporaries on the niceness factor. Jenny dragged Dave through some more shops, and then we hit the big Zabar-ish Hediard, and wound up buying a bottle of store Red, a bottle of store cider, and a jar of that ubiquitous hot-as-hell mustard. We dropped into Fauchon as well just to be fair.

At this point we decided we need to go back to the hotel. Passed Galleries Lafayette on the way back and went in for a bathroom break and to check out the stained glass cupola. The place was as bustling as Macy's at Christmastime -- we fled. After making our way back to our neighborhood, we quite coincidentally ran into A la Mere de Famille, the famous confectionary shop. Naturally, we stopped off for goodies -- mints, candied pineapple, and chocolates -- before heading home.

Dinner was a relaxing Menu at Restaurant l'Alsaco Winstub (10 rue Condorcet, 9e Arr). As you may expect, the food here is Alsatian, so very Germanesque. Jenny found out about this place online and decided that Dave should have a meal or two that included beer instead of wine, just for grins. The owner has an extensive beer menu, only it's in his head, not on paper. So, in stilted English (he and his wife spoke German and French, not so much English, alas) I asked for some interesting beers to go with dinner. Dinner, by the way, was a large plate of meat with tons of sauerkraut and red cabbage; Jenny went for the sausages with sauerkraut and red cabbage. I passed on the Picon, an 18% "beer" that is designed to be mixed with, I suspect, other beers. (we saw it in the Monoprix a few days later; reading the bottle, it is indeed labeled "Biére" but though there are certainly beers of that strength, this was truly more of a liqueur.) The German-speaking couple next to us enjoyed a glass of this, but it just didn't seem to be necessary. Anyhow, so I had a 75 cl Sans Culottes -- not the Sans Culottes imported into the USA, but a different, Alsatian brune if correctly recalling. Also enjoyed a 33 cl Le Sarrasin, another dark beer for which I wasn't taking notes. The evening was quite warm, and with the <whine>lack of air conditioning</whine>, we (at least Dave) was sweating profusely.

Amusing side story: a group of three French twentysomethings came in and sat down at a table a few away from ours, a guy and two women. Jenny thought they kept staring at her and indeed when she went to the loo after dinner the guy was waiting outside the door when she came out. He handed her his telephone number in a very sauve manner. Did she look that uninterested in her husband? His name was David by the way, which would probably be useful should Jenny decide to go visit him.

After a pleasant walk around the area, we headed to go home and SLEEP!

Saturday, 15 June: Today we started with a museum that we'd decided would be a fun little jaunt: the Musee National du Moyen-Age (Museum of the Middle Ages, 5e Arr.), just up the road from the Sorbonne. In addition to all the thousand-year-old ruins dotting the different rooms were some interesting finds: the statues from Notre-Dame knocked down by the Revolutionaries, including the heads lopped off the Saints statues; many household items from the early part of the last millennium; various books, including far too many on gardening (it was a special exhibition); and the Unicorn tapestries. These are the ones that correspond to the five senses, culminating in a sixth tapestry which nobody seems to know the meaning of. We were very excited to view these in person because of our enjoyment of the other Unicorn Tapestries at the Cloisters here in Manhattan. It is very cool to have now seen both sets in person. The ones in Paris are quite beautiful, and we wound up taking home a couple of prints. We didn't take pictures inside because it was pretty dimly-lit for preservation reasons, and camera flashes can only hurt the works of art. So we were good tourists. ObSelf-Righteousness: Of course other tourists didn't have such problems taking pictures, with flash, of priceless artifacts that could be damaged, but that's why some of the more precious things have to be locked away. Well, that and crazy sledgehammer-wielding maniacs.

So leaving there, into glorious weather once again, we wandered through the museum gardens for a little while before deciding we were hungry. Passing the Sorbonne and marveling for, oh, a few moments, we did a little clothes shopping for the missus. After picking up a peasant blouse for Jenny at the Naf Naf Boutique, we headed to eat a little bit at Le Luxembourg, a little cafe outside the Jardin du Luxembourg at Place Edmond Rostand. As usual, our lunch was baguettes, the ubiquitous cheese sandwich for Jenny, the salami-like sausage sandwich for Dave, and coffee all around. We decided we'd make it back over to the park later, and walked to the Panthéon. Like most important Parisienne buildings, the area in front of the Panthéon was more noted by the local children as a place to play football. Foucault's Pendulum, which Jenny thought Dave would like more than all the dead people in the crypts inside, had been removed for an installation by Pinter. It was lovely and all, but we really would have liked to see the pendulum in action. Ah well, it wasn't like we'd been expecting to see it for months. We paid homage to the famous intellectuals and statesmen buried within. Do you even need to ask what it meant for Jenny to be able to stand by Victor Hugo's tomb? Well, you probably do: she was kind of happy.

Next stop: St. Etienne du Mont, a gorgeous church around the corner from the Panthéon. Home of the only rood screen in Paris! Also home of a shrine to St. Genevieve, patroness of Paris. The slab of stone that her dead body rested on is encased in glass and a gold coffin. Jenny the Catholic takes the time to thank Genevieve for this wonderful trip to her beautiful city. Dave the atheist is rolling his eyes. The Panthéon is built on the site of her original church and the interior is lined with frescos telling her story. Her story and the history of the Panthéon are fascinating and you should go do some further reading if you intend to visit this corner of Paris. Jenny's orders.

Walking further east in the 5th, we rested at the Arenes du Lutece, the ruins of a Roman amphitheater some two thousand years old. The seats, made of stone, still overlooked a shallow, round dusty pit as one normally envisions amphitheaters, which was currently used as... a place for children to play football.

At this point, we were pretty close to a pottery shop, La Tuile A Loup, that Jenny had heard of and wanted to visit. So we walked down to Rue Daubenton, and heading west, came upon the charming, cluttered shop. Lots of Quimper and other provincial pottery, tons of linens and books on the subject of pottery and provincial life. Perfect parental gift site! So we stocked up and pretended not to be so American (that silly non-American accent thing we do). Now of course Jenny wishes she'd brought back the sugar bowl that goes perfectly with her cream pitcher, so it's time to visit the website or get her boss to find it their next trip to Paris.

It was now a Dave moment in the trip. The Academie de la Biére (88bis bd Port Royal) was quite close, and featured Belgian beers of all stripes, several on tap, along with traditional Belgian dishes. Jenny sampled a bottle of Cidre Sec, while Dave launched into half-liters of the draft Faro and Gueuze Aux Bridges. Hungry, he also ordered the carbonnade, while Jenny decided to wait for dinner. Finishing up with a bottle of Parisian Ecume de Re, it was time to leave the confines of the pre-dinner restaurant and relax in the Luxembourg gardens. Very beautiful. Very relaxing.

We decided there were other things to be seen and not much time to do so, so we headed directly across town via Metro to the 18th district, adjacent and north of our home district, to climb the million steps to the top of Sacre Coeur, which, like the Eiffel Tower, is hard to keep out of any pictures you take from tall buildings in Paris. Hundreds of others were also making the pilgrimage to the pretty, enormous basilica. The steps aren't that terrible, really, and there is a tram of sorts that will take you up if you need it and don't mind paying nominally for it. Still in use daily, the church has a no-pictures policy and people should dress appropriately. I still get a kick out of that rule, and how blatantly most tourists seem to disobey it. Ah well, sinners REPENT! Anyway we arrived just in time for 21:00 mass. We didn't go to mass, but did linger in the back of the church enjoying the organ music beforehand.

The walk back down was fun as well, as we took the little house-strewn paths and staircases down off the west side of the hill. It's pretty funny to see so many people's back patios overlooking such a magnificent landmark, but there you go. Dinner was very much on our minds at this point, so we looked around at all the touristy cafes and decided against most. It was also getting pretty late, so some had already closed. We made detours to see the two existing windmills, one of which is now a pricey restaurant, and eventually happened upon a little area with two nice restaurants. We chose A La Pomponnette and absolutely did not regret the choice. Quite possibly, this was our best meal of the week. Dave had the 26€ menu, which in his case consisted of the pickled mackerel, a heavenly tuna steak draped in a honey glaze sauce that was incredible, and the plat de fromage. More on that in a minute. Jenny decided on the salmon, which sat atop a pile of potatoes and was almost as good as the tuna.

Anyway, the cheese. Dave figured it would be like at the l'Alsaco, whose cheese plate featured four Meunster cheeses at various ages, ranging from very new to several years old, and firm to runny, and neutral to very funky. No, this was not that. A few minutes later, the waiter cleared half our table, Jenny's rich, delicious chocolate mousse arrived, and the waiter set down... a serving tray of cheeses. Nine different cheeses, huge chunks of each, a basket of bread, and a couple of knives. Ooookay then. I (Dave) absolutely gorged. The Reblochon was a distinct favorite of mine; the sage-rubbed cheeses were lovely; ones we'd never heard of before tasted out-of-this-world. We didn't break the camembert wheel, but otherwise Dave sampled everything. This lasted for about twenty minutes. When the waiter came back, Dave asked him what cheeses were what, and he whipped through them so fast I don't remember. A shame, really. The total meal came to under 70€. Amazing.

By now, it was just about midnight, and so we needed to head to the Metro before it closed down for the evening or risk walking home. The Metro stop closest by was outside the "third windmill" in the district, yes, the Moulin Rouge. So Jenny took pictures of the cabaret house, marveled that they could charge about $125 a show and get it, and then we headed home. A big, fun day, but we still had to get up early Sunday for the centerpiece marvel of the trip.

Sunday, 16 June: Versailles. Well, we tried to get up early, but ended up taking our sweet time anyway. Figuring out the RER directions to Versailles is a breeze, if you take the time to read your guide book or (gasp!) ask someone ahead of time. Apparently half the train hadn't and the poor conductors had to explain over and over that a metro ticket will not get you to Versailles--now fork over! How do you find Versailles from the train station? You follow everyone else. Huge crowds, but that's okay, we've got museum passes! This is one place where they are really a benefit. Follow the signs to your entrance and you get to just walk right on in. If we had wanted audioguides or to take the extra tours such as the King's Chambers, we would have had to wait on a LONG line, but we were happy with just the basic self-guided tour.

Our style is to go slow and look at everything -- so like the Louvre we're again having to step aside and let the masses stampede on through to the main event. This time, it's the Hall of Mirrors. Wow. We don't know what else to say. They do need to get some conservationists in here fast though. Yes, it takes an enormous amount of money to run the place, but plastic slipcovers on the furniture? Yikes -- pray for the textiles. And the mirrors really need some work. It's worn about the edges, but still an incredibly beautiful place. It's just really amazing to wander the same halls so many historically significant people have.

Lunch was mediocre at the restaurant within the gardens. Again, not as overpriced as at, say, a Disney theme park, but no real service to speak of. We should have brought stuff from the grocery store and had a picnic. That's what all the French were doing. And what a place for a picnic! Twenty euro or so later, we head back out to the gardens to continue looking at garden-y things. There is still a large area closed off due to damage from the December 1999 storm -- peeking through the gate at it Jenny's heart just stopped. Such destruction. You can "adopt" a tree to help defray the cost of reconstruction, if you feel strongly about it. Jenny would have liked to visit Marie-Antoinette's little pretend village, but you really need to take the tram to get down there -- this place is huge. We're hardy walkers, but it was beyond us. Not to mention the fact that the temperature was again in the low 90s. Since the fountains would be turned on later in the afternoon, there was a fee to hang out in the gardens today. That was why we came on the Sunday in the first place, of course.

Anyway, while standing down by the Grand Canal an announcement comes on over the loudspeakers that the fountains are going on. Music starts up and away they go. What a spectacular site! We have this gorgeous view up the steps to the palace, fountains spraying everywhere and beautiful classical music. Jenny thought the music over the loudspeakers would be cheesy, but it's really nice and just adds to the atmosphere. We wander through the gardens for the next two hours, taking many photos and having a grand time. At five o'clock the fountains go off and they invite everyone to go over to the Neptune fountain for the finale. From 17:20 to 17:30 they run this fountain and the Dragon one behind it. Definitely worth the price of admission. I kept thinking of Mel Brooks: "It's good to be the king!"

Closing time at the chateau so we straggle back to the train station with everyone else. We're a little sunburned, tired, very thirsty and hot. Why did we not take sunscreen? Why did we not take large quantities of water? Jenny has been craving a Coca-Cola all week, but it's inordinately expensive and so we've been drinking lots of water and wine. Dave remembers seeing a McDonalds across from the station. There it is -- and it's air-conditioned! Jenny finally has a Coke (she has to practically beg for ice cubes, but whatever) and we bask in the air-conditioning. There is an advertisement up for Happy Meals: Chicken McNuggets, a hamburger, or -- a croque Monsieur!

The train ride back to Paris is stifling, we're wilting in the heat and to top it off this know-it-all sits in the vestibule in front of us and proceeds to lecture his companions on EVERYTHING. What is it about Americans that make them talk so loud on public transportation? I notice it here in New York too. You can always tell who the tourists are. They're the ones talking at the top of their voices annoying everyone else. People of America, I beg you, be quiet!

We got off the RER at Pt de l'Alma leaving behind Cliff Claven and family. Jenny had the good sense to want to take a nighttime river cruise, for which we already had tickets (thank you gotoday.com), and so to kill time we wandered for a bit then sat in the Champs de Mars and wrote up a few postcards. Then it was off to eat at, well, the Champs de Mars, of course! Another outdoor cafe, great for people watching -- good weather is very conducive to people-watching. Jenny had the steak frites, quite a lovely meal, while Dave had the andouillette, which Jenny assured the waiter (in French! Finally after a week I am answering automatically without stopping to think! Hooray!) that yes, Dave knew what he was ordering. Fantastic sausage it is, but the American version of it might be not so good. We leisurely drank in a bottle of 1999 Reisling, a grand, grand choice, and behaved as perfectly courteous tourists as we watched Paris go by.

From there it was time for the boat trip aboard the Bateaux Mouches, one of many lines operating sightseeing boats on the Seine, each boat pretty much packed full of people this Sunday evening. Ours was packed with what appeared to be American teenagers, but we sat on the top level and only had the Japanese tourists with multiple cameras. The boat ride lasts about 75 minutes, and of course you take in a few dozen interesting landmarks along the way, from both directions of course. Four-language recordings tell you all about some of the places, which can be amusing if the boat goes faster than expected and the tape is out of sync. Our tourist friends, bowing to stereotype, needed to stand up and take pictures with each of those landmarks in the background -- about twenty for the Eiffel Tower alone, by our estimation. They didn't bother us, far from it in fact, we just found humor in the situation. One woman was even kind enough to take a couple such goofy tourist pictures of us with Jenny's camera, as the digital camera's memory card had finally been filled. A relaxing end to a fun-filled day, it was. Surprisingly enough your photos will come out--even at night, so wait for that gorgeous view of Notre-Dame. Don't screw it up like we did. Oh well, it was breathtaking and we'll always remember it, picture or no.

Monday, 17 June: As we had originally budgeted our time, Monday was a day of item-gathering. We started with the Monoprix, grabbing several bottles of 4-5€ wine, cheap beer and cider (the 75cl Goudale for 2.04€! 1.40€ for a 50 cl can of Abbey St. Landelin! 3€ farmhouse cider!), and chocolate, sweet, sweet chocolate. Jenny was tagged at the register as well, with the cashier demanding her passport in order to use the credit card. Naturally, there was a long line at the checkout, and we couldn't find the passport copies we'd made before the trip. The cashier reluctantly agreed to take her driver's license as proof, after several minutes of holding everything up. Oops.

Dropping all the foodstuffs off at home, we then went Limoges shopping. Rue Paradis was very close to our hotel and Jenny had read that this was the place to do your Limoges buying. We stopped in many stores and were allowed to browse to our (Jenny's) hearts' content. We wound up at Editions Paradis. There was an American couple in there initially, buying all sorts of china and so had the full attention of the person working, but once they were finished, we had a pleasant conversation about football players making gobs of money and paying no taxes as analogous to American athletes, as Jenny picked out a pretty vase in our pattern. We then had a not-so-pleasant conversation with said worker: she had come from Italy when she married a Frenchman, and lived in the next district over. This next district apparently had many new immigrants, who didn't speak the language, didn't work, and had a religion different than the standard Catholicism. It soon turned into an anti-immigrant diatribe, but when you perceive the world in a certain way due to bad neighbors, that's what happens. The whole conversation came about because we were from New York and apparently all New Yorkers are supposed to hate Muslims/foreigners/different folk now? Did she vote for Le Pen? We're guessing so.

We eventually extricated ourselves from the situation and continued our shopping ways. Took the Metro to the Chatelet Les Halles station. The mall is pretty icky. Some decent stores though. And it was air-conditioned! It was boiling hot outside so we stayed for a bit. Ladies, do stop into Petit Bateau. Those tee-shirts people pay about $30 for NYC? 10 Euro. We had to look at Jennyfer -- Jenny wishes we had bought something just for the bag! Ain't that cute? We had lunch at a quiet outdoor cafe across the street, Au Pere Tranquille (Rue Pierre-Lescot, a pedestrian-only street). We sat next to a pleasantly ignorant man and his girlfriend, who didn't seem to realize that the waiter wasn't exactly good at English. No matter, by now we were old hands at this and ordered reasonably well in French, made our pleasantries, drank the nice rose provencal and enjoyed our croq Monsieur and jambon de pays sandwiches while watching the modelesque women parade by.

More wandering netted us the Place Igor Stravinsky (that is one wacky fountain) and the Pompidou building (modern art not our cups of tea). Then we dive into the Marais, wandering aimlessly. World-famous tea shop Mariage Freres afforded Jenny the opportunity to look at hundreds of different loose teas of all types, picking out a couple and lamenting the dearth of similar shopping experiences even in New York. We wander all the way to Place de la Bastille in the sweltering heat -- keeping our eyes peeled for an ATM. We need water desperately. We do not find an ATM and blow our last 2€ on a popsicle. We wander to Place des Vosges and sit under the shade of a tree while watching some kids splash each other at the fountain. Another cross-stitch shop was found -- Victoria Broad -- too many American designers alas, but very, very nice. We found Jenny some Roger and Gallet soap at a pharmacy (2.5€! Love it!) and bought a six month supply (for Jenny) of it. Then we went back to the hotel to drop everything off.

After an excruciating ordeal, we found an ATM that worked by the opera house (which Jenny delighted in taking pictures of, of course). And our final dinner in Paris? Velly (52 Rue Lamartine, 9e Arr.). Jenny didn't know if she'd want to eat there, as it's apparently being discovered by tourists now (like, um, us) but we went anyway on this warm, humid evening. I didn't know if any meal could outdo A La Pomponnette, but Velly came awfully close. A 28€ menu -- Dave dined on a tasty "meal of the day," including a luscious red snapper (don't say it) and something cold for dessert, Jenny ate a fabulous steak in an herb sauce (so incredible), plus a bottle of the vin du mois and plenty of water worked to perfection. The kitchen is open to the dining room which is really fun to watch, but on such a hot evening... well, it's a problem. This is the only time on the entire trip we were served ICE water. Repeatedly. God bless that waiter, he was wonderful.

The evening was capped by finally going to the Cafe Leffe (9e Arr.) near the Grands Boulevards Metro stop on Boulevard Montmartre -- or maybe Boulevard Poissonniere, it changes names right about there -- a few blocks from home. Dave had a bottle of the Leffe Tripel in the bottle, not available in the States, for eight euro. Not a bargain, but if you're going to go to a place like Cafe Leffe, where basic Leffe en pression runs 6€, you may as well.

Tuesday, 18 June: Leaving day. We were ready for our 09:30 departure time, and sat in the cool lobby one last time to wait for our airport transfer. And waited... and we called them, and they said they'd be there in twenty minutes. After thirty minutes, they said ten minutes, and so forth, until they showed up a solid hour late. The driver walked in swearing about the people he'd had to pick up first -- they had a 10:00 pickup time originally, and when asked if they come move it earlier, had said no. So he was late picking us up for our trip to the airport. We took it in stride.

Not so the other two people, European, waiting for their taxi. Apparently they'd made arrangements through the front desk to be picked up around the same time as us (09:30) to get to the airport. One of the women, the daughter I believe, was in a wheelchair so such arrangements were necessary. They'd called to confirm it as well, and they were waiting, Mom quietly, daughter, well, not so quietly. Eventually she just lost it and started yelling at the proprietor about how they were going to make her late, and nowhere else she's visited in Europe was the taxis so horrible and late and if she missed her flight, the hotelier was going to put her up another night without charge, and get her a new ticket at no charge, because the taxi was late. Um, whatever, sweetie. But boy, she was Pissed Off and we were not going to hear the end of it. I expect her driver got a couple of earfuls too. I was just trying not to laugh, myself.

The trip to Charles de Gaulle was quick and painless, and we arrived in plenty of time for our flight to Washington. We just have to go through security.... Well, an hour of standing on line later, everything was cool, passports and bags were stickered, and we waited at the check-in line. We were too late, apparently, to be asked to give up our seats as they were overbooked, and the airport is (naturally) not air-conditioned, so we were kind of run down by the time we finally trudged to the proper place to get on our plane.

Getting on the flight was about the only interesting part of the first leg home. Our bags fit fine, no problems there. The person across the aisle from us had a little child's tiara and wings in a shopping bag she was bringing to a relative in that overhead compartment. Late arrivals on the plane sitting behind us needed room for their wheelie bag somewhere, and chose that compartment. Ignoring the protestations of the tiara-and-wings woman, the old man then tried SHOVING THEIR BAG into the compartment. I though the woman was going to have a breakdown. Fortunately, the old man's wife told him maybe things should be moved first. At this, Jenny nudged me, and I got up, got past the old man, and gently removed the shopping bag from the overhead to let the woman confirm everything was okay, guided the old man's bag into place, and returned the shopping bag atop the wheelie bag. Was that so damn hard, you freakin' idiot?

Watched a lot of Crossroads on the trip back. Man, that's some bad acting. Britney Spears as valedictorian/unpopular high school dork/dork-dating/sensitive soul with a knack for poetry/closet karaoke singing sensation? Whooo.

So arriving in Washington, customs was a breeze. Neither of the folks looking at our customs sheet bothered to turn it over and see what we were declaring, which was fine. Jenny got her shoes X-rayed, mine only got swabbed along with the carryon.When we get to the gate, the Dulles-Kennedy flight was oversold; would we be okay taking a flight a few minutes later to LaGuardia, and get two free round trip tickets to the lower 48 in return? Uh, we think so, yes. So of course the printer isn't working at this check-in station, so we get to the LaGuardia gate (different section of the concourse), meet up with the individual coordinating with the original check-in lady, get our free tickets, and we're home! The luggage went to Kennedy already, but it was mostly souvenirs and dirty clothes. Big whup. The United luggage guy at LaGuardia was actually very helpful and nice, and a $20 cab ride later, we're reunited with the cats. The luggage arrived the next day, intact, and we were two tickets richer. Score!

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First thing: get yourself The Michelin Green Guide and the Michelin Paris Atlas par arrondissements. Jenny met a nice French woman while she was perusing the guidebooks at the Astor Place Barnes and Noble. The woman told her that these are what she uses -- the best. We lugged along another guide book and basically ignored it. The Green Guide has everything in it -- EVERYTHING. The map is invaluable. It has every street, every alley, every pedestrian-only thoroughfare, you name it. The tourist map we were given was not half as detailed. Everything is color-coded so you know which are pedestrian-only (and therefore might be really cool). Interesting buildings and sites are shown too, and there is a Metro/RER map in the front. You can really let yourself get lost with this map. And that's half the fun of exploring, isn't it? No matter where you end up you can find it in two seconds on the map -- the streets are indexed in the back.

When you get to Paris, buy a Museum Pass. You're going to spend the money on admissions anyway, so instead of spending your trip worrying about how these admissions are adding up, just pay it up front. The Pass allows you to get into so many other things you wouldn't have thought of seeing. Like Napoleon's tomb at Invalides, for instance. It's not something you'd necessarily think to see, but hey, it's free now, and it's near other fun stuff, so you go in and you're a better person for seeing his final resting place. At the end of the trip Jenny added up the admissions we would have paid and it was something like 55€. So a 10€ savings per person. And not having to wait on line at the Louvre and Versailles! You just show your pass, and you're waved in. Definitely worth it.

Public Toilets: Everywhere on the main streets and boulevards were the pay toilets, and signs directing you to them from 100 meters away. For 0.30€, you too could hop in, do your business. Oh, except they all were out of service once you looked at the door. Maybe the government has decided they're a big waste of resources? Or maybe the cleaners were on strike. It is Paris.

Waiters / Tipping: Not unfriendly and rude, as everyone takes as true. They are unfriendly and rude to tourists who act like assholes, but if you make an effort to be nice, not a mean thing will happen. Well, maybe at touristy restaurants this happens. I don't know, we didn't experience it. A 15% tip, like the VAT (19.6% in Paris), is included on the check. You can leave more if you like, and a couple euros are always very appreciated, but nobody complains if you don't. Well, the probably complain at the ritzy places.

ATMs: Fortunately HSBC (our bank, through acquisitions) is a worldwide presence and their logo is recognizable, so we just had to find the CCF logo throughout town. Score -- there's one a block from the hotel! Oh, but it's always out of service. Bastards. Check to see if your bank is going to charge you ridiculous sums of money to A) take money out overseas on someone else's ATM, and B) is going to charge you ridiculous sums of money to convert it to Euros, even if it is their ATM. Naturally if you already live in Europe you should ignore this, and most everything else we say.

Coffee: We learned before traveling that un cafe is an espresso. You could order cafe Americain, but that's retarded since you'll probably get crap coffee. So pretty much every coffee-based drink in Paris is a shot of espresso. And the sugar packets are cubes, which are far more fun that granulated. You kind of need to use a cube or two in the espresso, as it's really, really bitter to someone not used to French roast coffee. But when you get back on that airplane home, do NOT get coffee from the flight attendant. You'll cry when you drink what they serve you.

Wine: Cheap as all hell. The imported Gallo Turning Stomach -- er, Leaf -- costs more than pretty much everything else on the shelves in the Monoprix supermarkets, which sell beer, wine, and hard liquor, in addition to sunglasses, clothing, and housewares. Wines which we'd enjoyed at 18€ at cafes showed up on the shelves for about 4.00€. Both prices are ridiculously cheap for the quality of the wines. Still, if you wanted crap American wine, it was cheaper there than here.

Beer: Not so cheap. Cheaper than Coca-Cola, but really, you're in Paris, drink the damn wine and love it. In stores, it's painfully cheap -- 75cl corked bottles of biere de garde for under 3€, 50cl cans(!) of abbey beer for 1.40€, regular good beers for half that. Beer at bars and cafes, though, rather expensive unless you're at out-of-the-way places.

Photos: Actually not pricey to develop film. We didn't take them up on it, but regular developing stores were in the range of 0.14€ per print, 0.08 per print for double prints. That's in line with average US cities. Kodak signs in some places, too.

Chocolate: Are you kidding me? Bring an extra suitcase. Excellent chocolate, quite cheap, sold like any other staple food.

Metro: As good as New York City overall. Trains are constant during the day, reliable, clean, and not overpacked. The doors can be opened a little before the ttrain comes to a complete stop, and they don't appear to worry about people trying to jump in at the last moment -- the doors close, and you're not getting in, just hope you can get the parts that made it in, out, before the train starts moving. These are all good points. Ten trips cost 9.30€, single rides 1.30. Also pretty cheap. Lots of stops all around town. No uptown/downtown signage; you just need to know what the terminus is in each direction for the line you're using to determine which direction to head, like lots of US cities; sure it's more brain work, but I'd guess one gets the hang of it quickly. Downside: the last train leaves its initial station at midnight on each line, and that's it until morning. So if you stay out late, you'll need a taxi. Well, you could walk, but not if you're not familiar with the area.

Air-conditioning: Hah. Rare. Even ceiling fans aren't common. So warm days in a restaurant can be rather hellish, which leads to lots more eating outside, as the breezes are lovely. It's a good tradeoff, but nice meals can't really be done well outdoors. Do people have air-conditioning in their homes? Are we whiny Americans? And finally...

Dog poop: Going in, we were worried it would be not so far off from Pret a Porter, where seemingly every five feet someone's dog had taken a dump. It's not so good, sure, but it's not much worse than New York.