Thursday, April 26, 2001
5:10
a.m. home time; 12:10 p.m. Paris time. [Which is to say, my body thinks it’s
5:10 a.m.]
Fruit trees and lilacs are in bloom.
Alan is still sick. He can’t swallow and has been quite miserable
since Tuesday, and having had two doctor appointments yesterday.
DeGaulle Airport’s France was a patchwork of bright yellow Colza
fields as we flew in. Looks like it’s going to rain.
[Later]. We stumbled into the Porte de Saint Ouen Formule 1 easily
enough. Went to sleep. Got up to call home around 2 p.m. twin time, then
went back to sleep. Sleep was far more precious than Paris at this point.
Friday, April 27, 2001
The maids
at the Porte de St-Ouen F1 disregard the “Do Not Disturb” sign just like the
maids at St-Denis. Ah well. Started the day off around noon, so weak I could
hardly walk. I think my electrolytes were wonky.
Alan can swallow now! We métroed to the Opéra, exchanged our
money at rue Scribe, then walked over to Printemps for a lunch of salad, salmon
quiche, and three fruit sorbets at Café Flo under that marvelous stained-glass
cupola. 
Our
waitress was a black-tressed version of “Weakest Link”’s Anne Robinson. I
half expected her to bark “You ARE the weakest link!” at us. Or more appropriately
“You ARE the slowest eater!”
Then we searched out the approximate location [pictured] of one of Sarah Bernhardt's former residences: the rue Auber apartment with a blvd Haussman back entry by which she saved her son (and the mother she adopted) from a fire. [Printemps dome on blvd Haussman at right. Giltwork on Opéra Garnier at end of rue Auber on left.]
Journeyed
to La Samaritaine so I could buy Givenchy “Organza” perfume as a Paris souvenir...I
want to smell good while we’re here! Then we found our
way to the rooftop terrace and panorama.
[The colonnade of the Louvre is behind my head.] We would have stayed longer
but it began to rain, so we went downstairs to buy an umbrella. Alan would
have chosen a classic black, but I pointed out that the purple and pink duck-handled
one would thrill the girls.
We walked along the “Plants and Pets” front along the Seine to the deVille and Bernhardt théâtres to have soup and write postcards to the girls at Café Bernhardt. Alan saw that Le Mistral café had less expensive soup, so we ate there with a view of a dome and the Eiffel Tower. Our waiter there was a friendly guy we named “Mr. OOPS!” He didn’t spill anything on us; he just said “OOPS!”constantly.
Last night, looking out our room #443 window, I wondered what the sparkling “skinny Christmas tree thing” was. Turns out it’s the top half of the Eiffel Tower. Sometimes it’s plain lit up, sometimes it’s sparkling.
Sabbath, April 28, 2001
We got up, ate, got ready for when the maid came, then lay down for a nap (as it was a drizzly Sabbath) until the maid came by.
Went down in one of the 4-person elevators to discover two things: 1. Fort Lauderdale’s Spring Break quota of teenagers and chaperones were waiting to come UP the elevators (we had to sneak out an “entrance only” way to escape the lobby); and, 2. It was now RAINING.
[Please note, these photos were taken on May 12 in sunshine.] We noticed someone
walking from the direction of the Etap hotel with “Match” grocery bags, so
we waddled that direction. And I do mean waddled: my calves are killing me.
I set the elliptical machine at the gym to work my calves on up, but it’s
obviously not the same as a stairmaster. Anyway, we waddled to the end of
the block and found a Match supermarché and deli. We saw Pepito cookies which
is a good thing as Nikki and Kilory put in requests for Pepito cookies! [Pepito
is Madeline’s best male friend in the Ludwig Behelmen books.]
We went back to #443 for a lunch of imported/smuggled Ranch dressing, salad, bread, Mimolette cheese, and milk. Alan ate yogurt at my behest since he’s on antibiotics. I call it giraffe yogurt since the four-pack has a giraffe on each cup. I bought the “giraffe brand” because it makes me think of Siouxseque.
Sat at the window, while Alan slumbered/convalesced, and watched the downpour
wreaking havoc on the periphery freeway below. There’s been a lot of rain
apparently; the walkways along the Seine are underwater. Some
of the work buildings are stranded and there isn’t much clearance between
the water and the bridge arches. Anyway, traffic was slow on the periphery
freeway. Was more surprised to see myriad large SUVs on
the road than to see two cars go by covered in balloons. I’m used to minicars.
There’s a miniscule
one called a Smart car, out of which one expects to see two dozen clowns tumble.
At Le Mistral café yesterday I saw a motorcycle go by that was more of a two-wheeled
minicar with no sides: it had a roof and a trunk.
Out our window we can see Hopital (Hospital) Bichat, a long row of pink-blossomed chestnut trees, apartments, a smokestack-like tower, the Eiffel Tower (top half), and an Exxon (Esso) station selling petrol at $5/gallon. And the Paris periphery freeway. [Please note: photo taken in sunshine on May 13.]
Around a drier 5 p.m. we got up to walk around the other side of the neighborhood. Discovered that a few blocks down ave Gabriel Péri is the church garden where we ate lunch on our last visit to the Clignancourt flea market (which begins right down our street across from the Match supermarché). Kept searching every posted menu for soup, but the places that did serve soup weren’t open for dinner yet. We got two poulet and crudité sandwiches at a Patisserie/Boulangerie on the same block as the métro stop. Stood on the street next to a building dated 1898, ate, and people-watched.
On the overcrowded #13 métro car home it was so crowded I detected a mole on the hip of the woman next to me. It was so crowded you couldn’t see the full faces of those around you – one eye here, one ear there.
Called home at 8 p.m. (1 p.m. Keene) to find the girls with 101-degree temperatures and Kilory crying with an earache. One might as well carve me with a filet knife as have me talk on a transatlantic line with my sick, crying “baby” girl.
After our shower we caught parts 1 & 2 of Michael Palin’s “Pole to Pole” on BBC World; two questions on France’s “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” (I got them right even in French. Same set, same lighting, same graphics, same music.); and an episode of “The Sentinel” in French. Too bad it was a sans-Evan-T episode.
Friday, April 27 | Sabbath, April 28 | Sunday, April 29 | Monday, April 30 | Tuesday, May 1 | Wednesday, May 2 | Thursday, May 3 | Friday, May 4 | Saturday, May 5 | Sunday, May 6 | Monday, May 7 | Tuesday, May 8 | Wednesday, May 9 | Thursday, May 10 | Friday, May 11| Saturday, May 12 | Sunday, May 13 | Monday, May 14 | Epilogue