When the going gets tough...

The tough go shopping, of course. French lesson #2 with Marguerite yesterday clearly illuminated the vast cavern that remains between us and proficiency in the French language. We sat at a Cafe in the Place des Vosges and spent 45 minutes learning more grammer and vocabulary, then strolled around the square visiting many of the chic art galleries and boutiques there. Marguerite would ask us a question like "what do you think of the frame around that painting?" We would answer "yes, I'm enjoying Paris very much, thank you" or some other bizarre non sequitur. For a French speaker, it must be excruciating, although also highly entertaining. Marguerite takes it all very patiently and sweetly, then assigns us a thick stack of homework.

Beth was especially distraight after the lesson was over, having worked for a couple of hours on her workbook without showing much success in the lesson. In an effort to lift the spirit, we left the Place des Vosges and headed down rue des Francs-Bourgeois. It's a funny name: as far as I can tell, it means the street of "frank middle-class men," so I supose a lot of blunt truth-telling goes on between briefcase-toting accountants and businessmen on that street, although all we saw were shoppers sauntering and couples laughing. Maybe all the francs bourgeois were still at the office.

Along that street there is a little courtyard with a shop called ImeX, where Beth bought a beautiful faux fur coat when we were here last year. We popped in there to see if they had anything interesting, and sure enough they did: practically the whole shop. The same 2 ladies who helped us last year were there again, and recognized Beth's red hair. We recognized their red hair as well, that mahogany red tint that is apparently a la mode all over Paris among the middle-aged ladies. At least it's better than the blue hair favored by many older American ladies. The red-headed duo practically turned themselves inside out showing us all their chic sweaters, coats, scarves, and hats. Beth consoled herself with a lovely furry brown coat to replace one that she has loved and long worn out, a very smart faux brown leather jacket with a lining of what looks like shearling fur dyed burnt orange, and a sweater.

You may be wondering, having read this far, and maybe a lot farther than this if you've been following this blog, why I don't mention visits to the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, or Notre Dame church, except in passing. Alright, here's the deal: last year we came to Paris equipped with "Top 10 Paris: Your Guide to the 10 Best of Everything" published by DK (Dorling Kindersley). Here are their top 10, in order:
1. Musee du Louvre (you know, Da Vinci Code and all) pictured right with the giant glass pyramid
2. Musee d'Orsay (all impressionists all the time)
3. Eiffel Tower (was actually supposed to be dismantled after the 1900 world exhibition)
4. Notre-Dame church (didn't see Quasimodo, but loved the gargoyles)
5. Sacre-Coeur church (the best view of central Paris, better than from the Eiffel Tower)
6. Arc de Triomphe (Napoleon's monument to himself)
7. Centre Georges Pompidou (the museum of modern art)
8. Pantheon (where the heavies are buried, like Voltaire and Victor Hugo)
9. Sainte-Chapelle (St. Louis paid more for the relics than the entire cathedral)
10.Hotel des Invalides (the Sun King built it for his veterans, Napoleon is buried there), pictured at the top of the blog.

Voila! Paris Top 10, and you didn't even have to pay $15 for the guidebook. Last year, we saw all 10 close up except the Louvre, which was just too daunting for Beth, the art history buff. This year, we plan to go to the Louvre, including a 2.5 hour guided tour to the "jewels" of the Louvre, and to Musee d'Orsay as well. We love going to Notre-Dame and Sacre Coeur for masses--even though we are protestants and the service is in French and Latin, it is clear to us that God is present there, and I'm sure He knows those languages as well as English. The others, at this point at least, are in the "been there, done that, got the T-shirt" category. The bridges of Paris are another story altogether, and we plan to walk all of them one of these romantic evenings, maybe tonight after mass.

Last night we finished our shopping spree around 7pm, mostly because the stores closed--Beth has seemingly unquenchable appetite for shopping, like most able-bodied women would in Paris. She doesn't usually buy much, being budget-minded, but loves to look at all the unique and beautiful things. I don't recall seeing any of this stuff in Walmart.

A short stop off at the hotel to drop off packages and freshen up, and we were off to a delightful little restaurant north of our hotel called Le Dome du Marais. The building was built in 1778 (2 years after the Declaration of Independence was signed) by the last French king, Louis 16th. He lost his head 15 years later along with his Austrian-born queen Marie Antoinette during the reign of terror after the French Revolution. The building housed his pawnshop: apparently, governments were more creative in those days with regards to income than they are now. It actually remained a pawnshop until 1981, when it became a restaurant. And a belle restaurant it is.

The meal was as memorable as any we've had in Paris, with a two-course "amuse bouche" of a small slice of onion and olive bread with tiny portions of cold radish soup and finely diced carrots and green onions. The entree ("entry," or first course, not the main attraction as we use the word in Engish) was a tomato cooked for 10 hours with herbs for Beth, and for me, a fabulous salad of spinach leaves with cooked sliced mushrooms and a filet of foie gras (yes, I know that the geese are force-fed to fatten their livers, but I'm telling you, it's just about the best delicacy I've ever had). The main course was cote du veau, a single large veal cutlet cooked au jus and served for 2 with french-cut buttered green beans and a hot legume side dish. Dessert (hey, it comes with one of these prix fixe meals) was a small tarte of fresh berries and thin crispy wafers for Beth, and a souffle for me-perfectly done. Coffee, tea verveine, and some madeleines, and we were ready for do-do (bedtime). After reading this far, you are probably as sleepy as we were, so good night for now.

By the way, when we visited the local post office to buy some stamps, we noticed that the clerks all sit behind 3/4 inch thick plate glass with giant glass turntables to pass your packages through for mailing. Maybe "going postal" doesn't just happen in the States...