Canal St. Martin and the Gyro Situation Getting Embarrassing

 This is a text I got while Scott and I were enjoying a little demitasse of the "world's best hot chocolate" at a place called Une Dimanche a Paris on a cobblestoned side street off Rue St. Andre des Artes, that Scott loves.  The girls were in the bathroom for a long time, and we were wondering about them, but evidently too caught up in how incredibly chocolaty the hot chocolate was to care.  Finally, Golda came back and said she couldn't get Ruby unstuck.  I went upstairs prepared to bust down a door, but I only had to jiggle the lock to free the prisoner.   Poor Ruby!  She even had her phone and the wherewithal to send an SOS.  Parenting fail!

 Our second museum was the Orangerie, which houses Monet's giant Waterlillies murals, as well as a ton of our favorite Impressionists.  I love this museum.  It's as cute as its name and the collection, called Walter-Guillaume, is incredible.  It was amassed by a couple of art dealers who were contemporaries of artists like Van Gogh, Modigliani, Cezanne, Renoir and Rousseau.

 Scott and I love Modigliani.

 We took this picture because Don Carlos is in it!  ;)

 And we took this picture because I have a poster of this Renoir from a visit to the Orangerie in 1986.

 The Orangerie is situated at the southwest corner of the Tuileries gardens, so the pleasant ponds were our next stop, where we took in the ambiance in the green chairs provided by the city.

 Look!  Golda isn't thinking about homework!

 Selfie by the older generation...not good!

 Ruby fell asleep.

 So did Golda.

 There were signs all over the city that explained that the lawn was still taking its winter nap, or something to that effect.  This sign is more succinct.

 My mom's favorite corner of the Louvre.

 Under the Louvre.  If you go, you should know that you don't have to wait outside the pyramid in line with all the tourists to go into the Louvre museum.  You can go underground in the "Carousel du Louvre" from a number of entrances, and buy your tickets down there with no line.  Or get them ahead of time online, or at another museum in conjunction with a city pass-type thing.  So don't wait in line unless you want to admire the architecture of the different sections of the Louvre, and how the pyramid fits into it all, from the courtyard.  We didn't even go to the Louvre because it's too big and there are too many paintings and we get lost and tired and always end up disoriented in the Polynesian Fertility Statue wing or something.

 After relaxing in the Tuileries, we hopped on the metro to relax at Canal St. Martin.  It's a cool neighborhood where we had heard people were wont to lounge about along the canal.  It was a beautiful day, but Scott and I tried not to constantly talk about how incredible the weather was.  A pitstop at a grocery store gave us ample supplies for our picnic.  I asked the clerk where the good part of the canal was, and since he was a Balkan immigrant himself, he didn't understand my French too well.  I simply said, "Up or down" in French, and he directed us down the canal.

I tried as much as possible to use my French.  I get nervous, but I forced myself to take the time to formulate a sentence in my mind, and to use it on people, speaking slowly.  It made me want to keep learning French.  Some people I talked to were kind enough to continue speaking to me in French, even though it probably would have been easier for them to answer me in English.  The Parisians have a reputation for being snobby, which they are somewhat proud of, but I think if you understand their culture, you accept their "rudeness" as a certain charm.  In any case, it doesn't help to be at all brash or pushy yourself.  You're in their territory, and I think that that, above all, is what Parisians want you to accept from the get-go.

I love this picture.  We were so happy lying along the canal among the youngsters with their bottles of wine and raucous conversation, the elderly couples strolling along, the romantic couples who didn't need any snacks to keep them busy, and the families with their expensive strollers, decked-out babies and children riding scooters.  We stayed long enough to really absorb the vibe.  It was so nice not to have an agenda, and so out of character.  

 Ah, the French and their protests.  Suddenly there was a huge parade with dancers, people chanting and marchers holding up signs that looked for all the world like John Stossel.  An anti-Fox News protest?  Probably not.  But the rowdy parade was immediately followed by a police escort and a cadre of garbage trucks.  The French really know how to stage a protest.

 One of those young couples I was telling you about.  Hee hee

 Yeah, we really liked Canal St. Martin.

 Ruby had spotted a park up the street, and since we had noplace to be, we hiked up and took a nap.

 And then we metro'd to the Marais to show Scott Place des Voges and Victor Hugo's house.  When we were there in the fall of 2011, it was deserted.  On this day, it was teeming with life.  We sat on the grass next to a young man in a bathrobe and crutches, boisterously hanging out with his friends.  We talked to him, and he told us that he had just gotten his cast off after breaking his leg.  They were having so much fun, we wondered if he had shared his pain meds with his friends.  ;) At one point, he pulled a wrapped-up ice cream cone from his bathrobe pocket and offered it to me!  (I have to tell you, we were standing in line for the catacombs a couple of days later and struck up a friendship with the guy in front of us, his friend and his two daughters.  Turns out, they live in the Marais, they were at Place des Voges the same day we were, and they remembered the bathrobe guy!  He was creating quite a spectacle, holding forth with his friends.)

Whereas the streets of Copenhagen were lined with bicycles, the streets of Paris were lined with motorcycles.

This is where we found the necklace that we bought for Coco.  She has a collection of these doll necklaces.

I can't believe Scott and I get to be the parents of these two lovely young ladies.  They were such fun on the trip, we might have to do it again!

How, oh how, is the light so golden?

Now I'm getting embarrassed at all the various gyro pictures.  But we did narrow it down to three places that are our favorite.  And maybe one that is our very favorite, the one on the corner across from the other one.

Street of the cat who fishes is the tiniest alley.

There she is, the octogenarian who still works the crowds for change with her band.  She had her dance moves down, even if her body was less than nimble.

This place on Rue de Bac was so cozy, I would have stopped in for a languid dinner had we not all been stuffed with gyros and crepes.

This is the brasserie right across from Notre Dame that I love.  In France, if you stand at the bar instead of sitting at a table, things are cheaper.  Scott and I came here a few mornings early to enjoy a chocolate chaud at the bar with the locals as the sun came up in all its splendor.

Our metro stop, St. Michel

A glimpse into Ruby's future.  She belongs in Europe.  It almost gives me chills to see this picture because it seems so prescient.  It's Ruby as her future self, or at least a possibility of it.  I just hope our kids' futures hold everything they deserve, everything they prepare for and everything that they dream of.  For now, I am thankful they're still in the dreaming stage, and grateful to be there for the dream.