First, let’s be straight up from the get go. Four days is not nearly enough time to do Paris the justice it deserves. That is part of the reason I abandoned any kind of itinerary. I knew the Metro could help greatly in that regard, as Paris is surprisingly sprawling. I downloaded the useful app Paris Metro, but I did not anticipate using it often. After all, the intention was to walk and experience the gifts this fair city had to offer from the pavement, one foot after another. That meant exploring the arrondissement we had chosen to lay our heads in, Le Marais. This would be ground zero and we would walk as time permitted from there.
After a cancelled flight out of Detroit and a rebooked one late the same evening, we arrived to beautiful 80 degree sunshine in Paris, but to my great dismay we had no practical clothing to change into from our long flight over. Unfortunately, our luggage would go missing for two full days, which is ironic if you read my previous post. Immediately, my carefully planned roster of daily Parisian-chic outfits went awry. I had packed a change of clothes in my carry-on bag as the advice columns always tell you to do, so I did have a few items of clothing but nothing very pragmatic. I decided then and there that serendipity would be the theme of this vacation and I would welcome it. Best laid plans…as they say. C’est La Vie!
The Act of Sleeping
A word about accommodations. I’m an Airbnb fanatic and I would have been happy to go that route and rent an apartment for a few days but as my husband was traveling with me, he suggested we pick a hotel that oozed Parisian charm and romance. That’s how we ended up in the Marais district. In retrospect, your choice of accommodation and the location of it will define your experience, so I would suggest choosing carefully. After weeks of research, I settled on Le Pavillon de la Reine, a gorgeous boutique hotel without the outrageous cost of the ornate palace hotels patronized by designer-clad patrons, but not exactly inexpensive either. Depending upon your budget, there is most certainly an accommodation in Paris that fits your needs and next time we will definitely rent an apartment. For our purposes, the Pavillon fit our desires perfectly.
It was better then I could imagine. Adjacent to the Place de Vosges, the oldest planned square in Paris, and ensconced behind the street side facade of galleries and cafes, one encounters a more placid world. A lushly landscaped private courtyard welcomes you. The busy city sounds are muted while the interior of the hotel is understated, a dimly lit oasis of peace and calm. Our room had two floor to ceiling windows that opened on to an inner courtyard, where the sounds of birds chirping awakened us in the morning. Facing my chair by the open window, it became a favorite place to sit in the late afternoon with an aperitif, mixed at the honor bar in the lobby. As the small rectangle of light above the courtyard would fade, I was reminded of Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window, privy to all the comings and goings of the other guests as they arrived back to their rooms, flung open their window and planned their evenings, dressing (and undressing) in full view of my perch. A few even waved in my direction. It was amusing and felt a little naughty. If Jimmy Stewart did it, why not I?
Much has been written about whether to stay on the Left or Right Bank. Again, a matter of preference. The Left Bank(“La Rive Gauche”), south of the Seine, is smaller and is traditionally known as the artistic side, past home to many famous writers and artists; Picasso Matisse, Hemingway. It includes Montparnasse, a modern day haven for artists and the Latin Quarter, a vibrant student-centric area that house both Sorbonne University and Shakespeare & Co, the venerable and atmospheric bookstore popular with the intellectual set back in the day. The Right Bank(“La Rive Droit”), where we chose to stay, was traditionally the wealthier region of Paris. Encompassing 14 arrondissements and the majority of tourist attractions, it’s a great area to walk and get lost. Ultimately, it pays to read and research the different neighborhoods and choose one that fits your desired experience.
The Act of Wandering
We spent the first two days exploring our neighborhood on the Right Bank. Le Marais, literally meaning the marsh, began as a refuge for those escaping from a crowded and dirty Left Bank. Historically a home to French nobility, it is one of the oldest neighborhoods in Paris and a joy to wander. It has the feel of medieval Paris. Our hotel faced a great open plaza surrounded on three sides by elegant 17th century architecture of red brick and stone with blue-slate roofs. Victor Hugo lived in an apartment (#6, where he wrote Les Miserables) on the square, now a free museum. The surrounding covered arcades are filled with art galleries and cafes. (I took a liking to a casted elephant in one and inquired the price, 18,000 Euros!! Maybe in my next life.) I was struck by the vibrant stream of life on display in the park. It was a Sunday, and every square inch of grass was taken by families, children frolicking in the fountain, boys kicking up dust with an impromptu soccer match, lovers kissing and embracing unabashedly on the lawn. The elderly sat on benches with clasped hands in the shade beneath the old pine trees edging the square and everywhere voices were raised in praise of the lovely day. A general conviviality filled the air. Place de Vosges would be a place we would return to daily, to sit and observe and relax. Everywhere in Paris there are opportunities to pause and take a rest and enjoy the scene before you. To be honest, it took both of us a few days to get in the groove. At first, we felt compelled to cover as much distance as possible, but after a few days the wrought iron benches and green lawns and sidewalk cafes beckoned us to stop and wile a way an hour or two.
I loved getting out early and walking the tiny cobblestoned streets in the Jewish Quarter, one of the largest in Europe. On the Rue de Rosiers, the stones underfoot would be freshly hosed down and a few merchants opened up shop here and there. (I would find that there is no strict opening time to the shops of Paris, it seems they open when they feel like it) We would stop to salivate at the windows of the boulangeries and patisseries along the way, sample the famous falafel, smell the fragrant tea leaves at Mariage Freres, and stroll the crooked alleys nearby in the hub of Paris’s gay community.
From Le Marais, we spent a day walking up the great steep hill to Montmartre, an artistic haven for many artists during the Belle Epoque period due to low rents and an atmosphere of freedom and camaraderie. Meandering in a serpentine fashion, we made our way through the grand boulevards and the narrow streets to the shining alabaster beacon of Sacre Coeur, where the view over Paris is indeed superb. Amassed with tourists, we chose to wander the back streets of this charming village, pausing at a cafe tucked away in a hidden square, marveling at the existence of a wooden windmill from the 16th century, checking out the unassuming facade of an artist collective(Bateau-Lavoir) where Picasso, Modigliani, Braque and many others worked their magic, searching out the old residence of Vincent Van Gogh. To walk in the footsteps of these artists was an exercise in imagination. I fell in love with the street art, the village-like atmosphere, the tiny curving alleys, and the abundance of picturesque sidewalk cafes, including Les Doux Moulins, made famous in the hit French film, Amelie.
For the most part, our ambles kept us to the Right Bank. We did take time to explore the islands of Paris. Ile Saint-Louis, smaller and graced with stately mansions and unique shops is the home to a much talked about ice cream shop. We sampled the exotic flavors at Berthillion, the grande dame of glaces, indulging in flavors such as roasted pineapple and fresh basil and salted butter caramel. We also strolled through Ile de la Cite, home to Notre Dame. The crowds here were overwhelming so we snapped some photos of the iconic church and kept on. On our last day we decided to focus on the Left Bank and visit some of the sights on that side of the Seine. We spent some time strolling in the Luxembourg Gardens, watching little ones float the small wooden rental boats in the reflecting ponds. In the Latin Quarter , we visited the renowned Shakespeare and Company, exploring the diminutive warren of rooms that housed hundreds of writers in the beds tucked between bookshelves. Owned by Sylvia Beach, an American expat, in the the 20’s and 30’s the shop was a center of literary culture and modernism. Writers of the Lost Generation(Hemingway, Stein, Fitzsgerald) hung out here frequently, this is a place where if you listen closely enough you might think you hear the whispers of great minds.
A few observations that arose in our brief time walking the streets of Paris. While it was close to 90 degrees, most Parisians dressed for Fall in heavy jackets and even a few puffy coats. While sweat dripped from our foreheads, the always elegant Parisians walked briskly in their layers looking cool and crisp. It confounded me. There was also a definitive absence of heels on the women of Paris. On my last visit 12 years ago, I was astonished at the ease with which Parisian women teetered about in 3 inch heels day and night. While the fashion was still very much haute, the shoes were very much flat. Pragmatism had won. I saw indigo velvet suits, garishly adorned hats. Shoes were an opportunity to make a statement. Older women were uniquely adorned with blue and green hair, funky flats, and distinctive jewelry. People watching is a valid pastime here, the outdoor cafes all have chairs facing the sidewalks, encouraging subtle ogling. It’s a pleasant way to spend a few hours, observing and appreciating.
The Act of Eating
At breakfast our first morning, we had a lovely conversation with two American gentlemen who just disembarked from a private yacht where they had run a private life coaching session with a wealthy client. Apparently, we had chosen our spot well, this was their favorite Paris hotel for many years running and they took the time to make suggestions for our meals and our walks in the days to come. I had painstakingly researched restaurants for our four nights in Paris, but I had neglected to pay close attention to the arrondissement in which each place was located. Turns out, two of my choices were a 45 minute cab ride away. It was serendipitous that we struck up a conversation with these two gentleman, as they steered us to several local places a few blocks away where we could walk to our evening meal. A word of advice, unless you are specifically looking for a Michelin-starred experience, you best bet is to eat in your neighborhood. There are myriad excellent choices and walking to your meal is quintessentially Parisian.
Our first evening was spent in a classic French bistro, Aux Vins Des Pyrenees. Located in the Marais since 1905, it has recently been restored to its former glory with polished wood, tapestries, tile, and mirrors. With famous past guests like Baudelaire and Jim Morrison, the bistro affects a timeless throwback to a gilded era. We were the first to arrive(first night and we were tired and starving) and chose a table by the front windows, thrown open to the balmy night air. The evening would only get better, as the place slowly filled up to capacity while the two young waiters danced between tables effortlessly delivering excellent craft cocktails and traditional bistro platters to hungry Parisians. My decadent Croque-Monsieur, oozing truffle gouda and crisped to perfection, was a masterpiece of sublime simplicity while Mark noshed on succulent croquettes of lamb. We were never rushed, we ate with a pleasant disregard for time. A bottle of wine was recommended, creme brulee was suggested and enjoyed. We joyfully listened to the lilting patter of conversation around us and pinched ourselves. We were in Paris.
The next three nights were each devoted to a completely different and original experience. Our friends at breakfast had suggested Gaspard de Nuit, a friendly neighborhood joint that served authentic local specialties. They swore we would be the only tourists and they were not wrong. Amazingly, after reserving a table through the front desk, the owner Miriam called me to warn that a large group of regulars (14 of them!) would be dining and that it might be a bit loud. Sounded good to us! The restaurant was a stark contrast to the evening before. Simple in decor, rickety chairs and a handful of old wooden tables graced the narrow rustic space. It was a comforting welcoming place. The menu was limited and entirely in French. The owner, knowing we were American, suggested some dishes and we put ourselves into her very capable hands. Here, we first discovered the very generous and traditional way of beginning a meal; a long interlude over an aperitif and several complementary edibles(amuse bouche) from the kitchen, beautifully prepared and presented in miniature. We were the last to leave the restaurant that evening and Miriam wanted to know where we were eating the rest of our time here and made a few suggestions. She made us feel like we had been dining there for years.
Our third night was a study in refinement. Restaurant Mumi (in the 1st arrondissement) offered a classic tasting menu showcasing the Greek chef’s culinary talents. Six courses of exquisitely presented fish and fowl and vegetables. Each dish a visual work of art, the meal was a revelation. Our last evening in Paris was at one of the more trendy brasseries, a hip place that sourced all their ingredients from local farms. Semilla, located in Saint Germain de Pres, opened a few years ago to huge acclaim for their approach to all things locally grown and under-appreciated, veggies in particular are given creative preparations. We sat by the open floor to ceiling windows, practically on the street, dining on imaginatively prepared food while enjoying the vibrant street scene.
Another word about eating in Paris. It is an event. Most Parisians don’t reserve until 9pm, so go earlier and you will have the place to yourself (or be dining with other tourists). The places we ate at were local’s favorites so we dined late as is the custom. Be prepared for a minimum 3 hour affair. One may not be greeted immediately and when you are, menus(or more often, a blackboard with daily specials written on chalk) are left to peruse for a good 15 minutes. Then the aperitif order. (Don’t order a martini, they will laugh at ‘you Americans” and bring a tall glass with ice with a bit of gin or vodka at the bottom.) Champagne is de rigueur, or Pastis, an anise-flavored liquor that is a local favorite. Finally, a starter is served, then the main, followed much much later by dessert. And one must NEVER skip dessert in Paris I found, because dessert is truly the STAR of the show. My favorite may have been the House “Surprise”, a glass of champagne surrounded by mini confections, creme brulee, chocolate truffles, madeleines, macaroons, and an exquisite sponge cake. We had four incredible gastronomic experiences in Paris, each was vastly different, each made me swoon with delight, each left me stuffed to the gills and ready for nothing but a leisurely walk back to the hotel. Therein lay the conundrum. When you dine out in Paris, there is little room to fit another outing, such as an evening at one of the iconic clubs like Moulin Rouge. A word to the wise, choose one or the other. Or drink lots of expresso and go for the all nighter. That was not in my wheelhouse. Of course, food was my priority.
For our daytime gastronomic experiences we decided to go another way. Lunch in Paris can be a big deal, in fact, the more elegant and pricier restaurants usually offer a price- fixed option during the day and many locals and tourists use this option as a way to experience the culinary talents of some famous Parisian chefs. Due to our orgy of eating every evening, we chose to check out the much lauded Marche Des Enfants Rouges. a destination market where foodies go to groan with pleasure. The name references the markets origins as an orphanage where children were dressed in red, the color of Christian Charity. It was almost torn down in the 1990’s but local residents chained themselves to the gates to prevent development of a parking garage in its place. The market still sells produce but it is more of an eaters destination now. I was so glad we found this place, as I was more excited by what was going on inside these old walls then all my evening experiences combined. Tucked behind an iron gate in the 3rd arrondissement, a bustling bastion of ethnic food awaits in what is the oldest market in Paris at 400 years old. Think Japanese bento boxes, Lebanese falafel, Moroccan couscous, a version of Italian eggplant parmesan that made me swoon, burgers made with farm fresh meats and homemade buns, buckwheat galettes. Each stall churns out utterly authentic chow to the massive lunchtime crowds. Go early as we did, and dip in and out of whatever stall strikes your tummy’s fancy. It was a deliriously good well-spent afternoon.
The Act of Living like a Local
I saved the best for last. I made one reservation for a tour before I left home. I booked a 3 hour food tour with Paris by Mouth, a culinary walk focused on local food purveyors on the Left Bank in St. Germain de Pres. I did not know what to expect, we were told to come hungry. There were eight of us on the tour and it was led by a young woman named Isabelle, classically trained as a pastry chef. We would be making six stops to her favorite suppliers.
Our first stop was La Maison d’Isabelle, voted the best croissants in Paris in 2018. They were crispy on the outside and melted in your mouth. My fingers were coated in butter after a few bites. Around the corner, we popped in to Eric Kayser bakery where we purchased a few of the their iconic baguettes, warm and fresh from the oven. I carried them around for the remainder of the tour, feeling like a true Parisian. We also purchased the bichon au citron( a puff pastry similar to a turnover) and chouquettes(a cream puff pastry) to taste at the end. Our stop at Charcuterie Saint-Germain was an eye-opener. Such beautiful arrangements of terrines and rillettes, and pates. We purchased the Terrine au beaujolais, Rillettes de cannard and Rosette de lyon to complement our selection. Our visit to the the cheese shop, Laurent Dubois fromagerie was a highlight. I’d never seen such an array of delicious cheeses, all presented in a way that was so pleasing to the eye. We tasted a few options and purchased a contrasting selection of Roquefort, Comte, an ash covered goats cheese and a triple cream for our picnic. Our last two stops were for sweets, of course. Patrick Roger Chocolatier is a beautifully designed shop with dark walls and pinpointed beams of light showcasing the chocolates that resembled jewel like works of art. Finally, we stopped at Un Dimanche a Paris where we purchased the charlotte aux framboise and the éclair au chocolat. We carried all our goodies to a wine shop, La cave du Senat where our tour guide selected a few well-matched wines to complement our meal. We proceeded to taste and ooh and ahh at the bounty before us. I thought next time I come to Paris, I would do this in the first day in my neighborhood where I chose an apartment to stay, and patronize those shops for at-home meals. This was a fantastic experience, a real window into the way Parisians shop for their meals and the level of craftsmanship that goes into the production of food. It’s a way of life very much connected to community. I found out that if the cheese shop, as an example, were to go out of business, only another cheese shop could open in its place. No retail store or internet cafe. I love this concept, ensuring a way of life that serves both the producer and the consumer while sustaining a vital and dynamic community lifestyle.
I found in Paris that they do a lot of things well. The ebb and flow of daily life is on a different scale then America. There is a deep appreciation for history and tradition( and some would say some restrictive rules that keep those traditions in place), with enough space for creativity to flourish. I barely touched the surface and indeed the moment I left the city, I felt its call to return. All the books, the songs, the art, that elevate Paris to a romantic and idealized destination, they are not hyperbole. I encountered that current of effervescent energy in the four brief days I was there. I thinks it comes down to stimulation of the senses. There is so much here to activate a deep appreciation of beauty, color, shape and form. I already find myself saying, next time. Until then, I dream of Paris.
