april in paris: day four

One word: chocolate. This is how we began our day, which was just a wonderful, wonderful way to start the day. Took the Metro to the Tuilleries station, emerged into the glorious sunshine and walked over to Angelina on the Rue de Rivoli. Ogled the fancy pastries and then went inside. Sat down in the belle epoque style salon with not-very-comfortable-but-very-French-looking furniture. Miles ordered a croque monsieur, Boyar ordered the "Angelina Breakfast" which had bread/jam, a pastry, an omelet, coffee ... and maybe something else. Mika had the Choc Africain cake. I had the Mini Macarons -- cafe, vanilla, dark chocolate, caramel. And -- Mika and I had the L'Africain hot chocolate. To call it "hot cocoa" does not do it justice. It is hot chocolate, like a liquid candy bar, thick and luscious, served with a side of chantilly (whipped cream). I enjoyed it thoroughly, but it was definitely thick. Super thick. It was served in a pitcher, and Mika didn't even manage to finish her one cup. I gave my last cupful to Miles ... who chugged it down, to my utter amazement and amusement! The waiter was very French and very nice, speaking in English to us and making us feel very welcome.

Tore myself away from the place, once again emerging into the glorious Paris sunshine. We crossed the street and strolled into the Jardins de Tuilleries, where we found a few chairs to sit on and soak it all in. The tulips were in bloom, looking Easter perfect, and everybody was enjoying the weather. Everything seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. We decided to walk up the Champs d'Elysee to the Arc de Triomphe. Stopped at the Place de Concorde with its gold-topped obelisk, walked by the Petit and Grand Palais which were built for a world fair, the Nike store, and Laduree. Then we made it to the Arc. Zipped up to the entrance, since we had our Paris Museum Passes (yatta!) and started up the stairs. The young woman ahead of me got dizzy and had to pull over to the side ... and I contemplated joining her, but my kids were still full of pep and I had to keep going (since I was in front of them). Finally made it to the landing! Woo hoo! What? Are you serious? This is just the mezzanine? Sigh. More stairs to go. After I have a sip of water. Want some, Mika? Miles? No? Okay. Several more stairs, and we emerge -- once again -- into the glorious sunshine, this time with a view of all of Paris. In spite of the ominous, vaguely medieval-looking railing, it was very cool. We could see the Sacre Cour at Montmarte, the Notre Dame cathedral, the Invalides, and of course, the Tour Eiffel. More photo ops. Then, down the stairs.

Spilled out onto the ground floor and visited the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier before we climbed back underground to the Metro. Back towards Tuilleries, this time all the way down to the Louvre. Made it out to the street after a few attempts to find the Louvre's Metro entrance that we read about in the guidebook, then crossed the street and entered at the Richelieu entrance. No line. Awesome. Turned on our podcasts and did the tour: Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, Coronation of Napoleon, Michelangelo's Slaves ... lost in the Egyptian Antiquities ... fell asleep on a bench while my family moved on, deserted among Egyptian artifacts ... where, oh where, is the sortie sign? ... French sculptures, pyramid, sortie! Back outside. Sunset over the Jardins Tuilleries. Back underground. Metro back to the light blue #13 line, exit at Duroc. Everybody is hungry. But all the stores are closed! Even Shopi is closed! We go to the tiny market next to Shopi and grab a few items to cook for breakfast -- frozen potatoes, eggs, drinks -- and rush back to the apartment. I check to see if the little red restaurant is still open, and thankfully, it is. Boyar takes our groceries upstairs while I take the kids to the restaurant. "Bon soir -- trois?" the gentleman asks. "Bon soir -- ehhh, quat, s'il vous plait?" I attempt. Fortunately, he understands. "[Some French words that I do not know] ici?" he says, and I reply, based on context: "No, [we are not all here], my husband is coming now." "Upstairs, big table!" he says, English. We go. I look around, and find the Big Table, which we share with a gentleman and two women who seem to be British. They are friendly enough and we catch some interesting conversation they are having about Avatar, The Wire (and how you must see it with the subtitles because the slang is so heavy), and how the man used to live on Corsica (when he chimed in on Miles's comment about how Napoleon supposedly died of arsenic poisoning when he was in exile on some island).

We have the canard and mashed potatoes and beef entrecote and mashed potatoes. My canard has some nice crispy skin and good flavor. This place is all about simple, down home food, which suits me just fine! I eye the desserts the other people at our table are having; would love to try the tarte tatin, which they say is quite good. We excuse ourselves after we eat, in relative silence (mostly because it is all relative and they are quite chatty while we are quite tired). Speaking of tired, I am quite tired now. But I will go on. Got back to the apartment and did some laundry. Used shampoo since I didn't notice the guy had finally come by with some laundry detergent. Okay, I've gone on long enough. Good night.