Uli's Post: Paris (Day 9)

Oh how time flies when you are having fun! It seems it is my turn again to write a blog post... And I thought I just wrote one. Now it is Paris. Hot and muggy Paris. We did hot and muggy Paris 2 years ago. We only know Paris to be hot and muggy. We live in the Hobbit Hole- a lovely and quaint apartment on the top floor of a building in the Marais district- close to the Centre Georges Pompidou-a museum of modern art- modern meaning all things that would NEVER have been considered art in the past now have a place to be collected and in a way revered. It is art turned inside-out as is the building Georges Pompidou. The apartment in which we live is on two levels- the main apartment floor of the uppermost level in the building, and its attic. All rooms in the attic have sloped ceilings and rafters. At the closest to the outer wall one can barely sit up. This is not a space meant for those 6'-0" or taller. Being 5'-10" I can stand in the bathroom but everywhere else in the attic I hit my head...over and over and over.....you'd think I would learn. The place is decorated with books...lots and lots of books in every nook and cranny. And CDs and cool knick-knacks and instruments...even a cello missing its front in order to serve a new purpose as a CD holder. There is a great little balcony overlooking the rooftops and chimneys of Marais. We keep the skylight windows open to keep a nice breeze flowing through the apartment. This place is an experience and you get more of a local flavour than staying in the more touristy quarters. We are a short walk to the Metro (Rambuteau on line 11 is the nearest station only 2 blocks away) and numerous cafes, brasseries, and restaurants punctuate the streets and corners nearby. Even along our street there are 3 bars and nightclubs that remain busy until 2 am every night. The sounds of conversation fragments and carousing fuelled by beer, wine and liquor waft through our windows on the breeze. I would not, however, be able to go down to one of these bars with Anne Marie because the signs clearly state "men only". To think..despite all of the cutting edge culture in this city, that women would still be restricted from some bars. It just seems rather old fashioned and strange to think that women should still endure such discrimination. This 'Gentlemen Only Ladies Forbidden' restriction may be fine for GOLF, but it just seems just so archaic...this is the 21st century after all...even the 4th arrondissement needs to acknowledge that. I rant, but I am woozy from thwacking my head against a robust piece of oak rafter and laying on the floor until the bleeding stopped. Today we were up at 07:30 under a clouded sky which diffused the glow of the sun and warned of more to come. Last trip to Paris, we had wanted to see the catacombs. I had toyed with booking one of the limited and specific time slots to visit, but our schedule a month ago was too unpredictable and the Wednesday bookings were taken. Last visit we arrived and quickly aborted our attempt to visit the catacombs because the line was 2 hours long (snaking about the park near its entrance) and in 37 degree heat and blistering sun...no thanks. This time we got there at before it opened, which was 10 am. They only allow 100 people in the catacombs at a time, and I counted at least 600 in line (excluding those who were off site waiting to rejoin their 'placeholder' friend or family member. The lady at the entrance estimated a 4 hour wait...or longer....and it was supposed to get to over 30 degrees again with the sun burning through the clouds. It took less than a second to vote down staying in line for interminable hours in the scorching sun until 2 or 3 pm (it being now before 10 am) to see skulls and bones that won't go anywhere before next time I visit. Although cool, it was not worth that kind of wait in Paris with so much else to see. So...back to the metro and Solférino to get to the Musée d'Orsey and the Impressionist treasures therein. Van Gogh's 'Starry Night on the Rhône' was on tour....luckily we saw that on our last visit. ( you'd think they could get a good replica from China) After the Musée d'Orsey it was imperative for the ladies to make another LaDuree stop for more and more macarons. Kitty corner from this den of macaron addiction was the Café Le Pré Aux Clercs, which was a convenient place for lunch. The food was excellent. An older couple at the table next to ours were like paparazzi. Overtly and covertly they proceeded to take photos of mostly Astrid (and Britta and Signa as well) who was trying to shield her face from their camera or cell phone lenses...only a true star would go to such pains to shun the paparazzi...and that just encourages them more!! They must have figured they had truly discovered a bona fide star was lunching beside them.... After lunch I deposited the ladies back at the Hobbit Hole, thwacked my head again for good measure, and went off to Gare St Lazare to arrange for the SNCF tickets to Rouen and back (solo, as per Article 7 sec 1-5 of my marital vows), as well as the Metro tickets to get to Charles de Gualle airport in a few days time. Some long lines, but friendly service. I'm glad the ladies did not join me for this endeavour as they would have been bored to tears, and the crankiness levels would have been dialled up to '11'. I returned to the apartment via stops at Nation (the park in the middle of a traffic circle and monument erected to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the storming of the Bastille, and the monument in fact faces the Bastille) and Bastille (the location of the despised tower that became the symbol of the Revolution; there is no Bastille tower- the revolutionaries took care of that- but there is a monument topped with the gleaming golden statue figure that represents the spirit of revolution). I paused briefly in the metro station to listen to a 9 piece string orchestra busking with virtuoso performance of classical music- now that is a fine use of a BFA. In front of the Hôtel de Ville there was a beach volleyball tournament... Nothing surprises anymore in this city..,. We went to dinner in the theatre district, where Astrid amused us with her lung capacity by blowing bubbles slowly and continuously through a straw into her drink. It took several tries to crack 1 minute because her sisters kept making her laugh...Astrid did not wish me to tell this story as she was embarrassed at not breaking a minute until her 4th try- synchro pride. Off to bed after packing, thwacked my head again, and off to sleep in the Hobbit Hole to dream of Rouen, Monet and Joan of Arc.