Tag Archive | Cathedral of Notre Dame

Free Sunday Rolls Around Again in Paris

Dec29

December 4, 2016, Sunday:

Free Sunday Rolls Around Again in Paris.

One of the great advantages of being in Paris on the first Sunday of each month is that you get to enter a lot of the museums and monuments for free. Most folks make a bee-line for the better-known ones such as the Louvre or the Musee d’Orsay. But, having seen those several times before and being pretty certain that my Met ID card would get me into those for free, I chose to go to places I had never visited—and so after much research on the net, I zeroed in on four places to see—if I could muster the stamina and the endurance to see them all.

Off to the Cathedral of Notre Dame:

After carrying two pain au chocolate for breakfast, at 9.00 am, I used my carnet of 10 metro tickets and hopped on to the RER (B) from Cite-Universitaire to get to St. Michel. From there, the Cathedral of Notre-Dame is just across the street. My idea was to get to the Cathedral for the 9. 30 am Lauds service which was quite well attended by locals and a number of tourists. It lasted 30 minutes and at 10.00 am, I joined the line at the side of the Cathedral for free entry onto the spiral staircase that leads to the twin towers. I had never been up there (although I have visited and attended services in the Cathedral pretty often), and was rewarded with an absolutely fabulous day—clear and sunny (although freezing cold). This would ensure really spectacular pictures of Paris seen from a height.

Climbing to the Towers of Notre-Dame:

Having reached the line at 10.00am, I was shocked to find that there were at least 300 people in the line before me. So although the entry door opened at 10.00 am sharp, by the time I entered, I had waited in the line for one hour and 10 minutes. And the wait was brutal because the temperature was unseasonably low. Although I was very warmly clad, after about half an hour in the line, I started to freeze and actually had to enter one of the souvenir stores to warm myself.

In the end, however, the wait was fully worthwhile, for the bird’s-eye views of the city from the towers are hard to describe in words. Baron Hausmann’s glorious city was basking in the winter sun in its lovely ivory shade of Caen stone punctuated only occasionally by a recognizable spire of a church or a landmark building that was easy to recognize. I took so many pictures of the buildings and of the Seine and its bridges snaking around the city. However, it was not just the city that lay as if showing itself off at its dazzling best and waiting to be photographed, that caught my eye; it was the umpteen architectural features by which I was surrounded that had me completely enthralled. The famous gargoyles, for instance, created through the genius of Violet Le Duc, can be seen up close and personal. Great ugly stone animals and birds (such as eagle-like griffons) that are unrecognizable form the Gothic water spouts through which rain water is ingeniously siphoned down the building. There are statues of saints and a number of angels in prayer that would be impossible to see from ground level. The huge bells of the Cathedral are so close when you are up in the towers that to hear them peeling is to jump out of your skin. As I stood there taking photographs, I simply could not help thinking how worthwhile it was to have climbed 450 steps to get to the top. In fact, after one has circumnavigated one level of the tower, there is another flight of stairs to climb to get even higher. It was rather grudgingly that I climbed those, but from up there too the views that came into focus were sublime—the Eiffel Tower, the heights of Montmartre with the Church of Sacre-Coeur crowning it, the funky design of the Centre Pompidour designed by the Italian Renzo Piano, the confection that is the Opera Garnier designed by the one and only Charles Garnier, the dissimilar spires of the Church of St. Suplice, the ugliest tower in Paris (Tour Montparnasse), the Pantheon with its serene dome and the exuberant golden Dome Church at Les Invalids. I have to admit that I had a field day and was absolutely thrilled with my decision to get to the top as it was my first time—and probably my last (although never say never!). I seriously cannot see myself being able to repeat the feat of scaling 450 steps—and so I was also delighted that I had the perfect day on which to click my pictures.

Back on Terra Firma:

By 12 noon, I was back on terra firma and dying for some hot chocolate as I was unbelievably cold. As I walked along the back street, past the many souvenir stores that have sprouted on the streets leading from the Cathedral to the Seine, I arrived at Rue du Renard where I found a McDs! It was with such relief that I went inside to order a hot chocolate with whipped cream and gave my feet a well-earned rest. But then, not wanting to waste too much time on free Sunday, I hastened away to the next item on my agenda, past the legendary department store called BHV (and from where we once bought the best can-opener in the world!) to arrive at the Musee Picasso—the next item on my list.

Visiting the Musee Picasso:

About 30 years ago, on my first visit to Europe, I had received my first introduction to the world of the legendary Pablo Picasso in this museum. I can still remember seeing the giant painting of Les Demoiselles D’Avignon at the entrance and being stunned. I can recall walking in reverence from room to room as I reviewed Picasso’s work from phase to phase in his life. Marvelous curatorial notes in each gallery introduced the many influences in his life, the many women who crowded it and became subjects of his work, the many places in which he lived and found inspiration, the many experiments he conducted with form and color as he traced a trajectory that took him from realism during his early years in Barcelona to the varied ‘color’ phases—his Blue phase, his Rose Phase–his experiments with Cubism, his imitations of the work of the Masters  (his obsession with Velasquez, for instance, that resulted in the endless variations he created of Las Meninas). I had seen them all and understood with exceeding clarity, very early in my life, what Picasso had attempted to do and why he is regarded as perhaps the greatest artistic genius of the 20th century.

When I lived in Paris, four years ago, the Musee Picasso, which is located in a lovely hotel particulier (private manor) in the city on the Rue de Thorigny, was under renovation. They were going to re-structure it so that it would cease to be chronological and would only display some of his masterpieces at a time and often in conjunction with the work of other contemporary artists. Thus, when I arrived at the venue at about 1.00 pm, I found about 75 people in the line before me.  However, the line (unlike the one at Notre-Dame) moved speedily and I was inside in about 20 minutes.

Exploring the Musee Picasso:

This time, to my utter disappointment, I found that the museum had completely changed its display style and I am afraid I was neither impressed nor delighted. The early work was present but then the work transitioned too suddenly and with barely an adequate explanation from one gallery to the next. Also, this time the exhibition featured the work of Picasso and Giacometti, the sculptor who also made Paris his home. I surveyed the comparative exhibits very carefully and enjoyed it, undoubtedly…but my enjoyment and enlightenment were not nearly as profound as they had been 30 years ago. Still, I am glad I re-visited this museum and I would say that to anyone who has not been to it, a trip to Paris ought to include this museum.

Off to the Fondation Cartier:

Next on my agenda was a visit to the Fondation Cartier—which, as its name implies, was created under the patronage of the famed French jewelry house. My interest in seeing the place was to view the architectural genius of the great Jean Nouvel whose work I have seen in various parts of the world (the Opera House in Lyon, the Musee de Quai Blanchi in Paris, a Tower in Barcelona, etc). He is an architect with a non-conventional vision. He introduced the concept of blurring the lines between indoor and outdoor spaces, of creating hanging gardens that scale a whole wall, of using glass walls to block out traffic sounds, etc. So off I went to the Rue Raspail by metro to get to the museum—not really knowing what to expect inside.

To my surprise, a rather weird exhibition themed around ‘The Orchestra of Animals’ was in full swing. It had attracted a great deal of children (it was, after all, a Sunday) and was portrayed through multi-media. There were movies, film clips, paintings and, downstairs, in the basement, some more rather strange films. The exhibition wasn’t really my cup of tea at all, but I have to say that Novel’s building is striking. There is a lot of glass (his signature touch), miles of what look like pipes and loud primary colors everywhere. I did not spend too much time here and within the hour, I was out.

Off to the Arc de Triomphe:

Nightfall was not too far off by the time I emerged from the Fondation Cartier and out on the street. I took the metro again and made my way across the Seine on the 6 line which runs aloft and overground for most of its route. When you cross the Seine on the 6, you get glorious pictures of the Eiffel Tower and by day or night, it is compelling. My destination was the Champs-Elysses as I was headed to the Arc de Triomphe to climb it for the first time—also for free. I dreaded to think of how long the line would be, as it had been a long day and I was fatigued. But I pressed on and I arrived at my venue at about 5.00 pm when it had already become pretty dark.

A Word about the Champs-Elysses:

When I emerged from the metro station, I was stunned. The Champs-Elysses, the main artery that radiates from the Place de L’Etoile and the Arc de Triomphe, which some folks believe to be the most stylish of Paris’ avenues and certainly the one most used for public parades, was ablaze with Christmas color. It is indeed such a great time to be in Paris. The city is wearing its holiday best. There are lights everywhere. The stores are simply glittering with eye-candy of every sort. The jewel in the crown, however, is the Cartier building which was covered with red lights and wrapped in a dazzling bright red bow with the Cartier logo, the panther, also picked up in lights at the top of the building. I would have liked to have lingered longer on this lovely avenue, but I did not want to have too long a wait to get to the top of the Arc and hurried along.

Climbing the Arc de Triomphe:

There were about 250 people in the line ahead of me when I reached the Arc de Triomphe which looked gorgeous in the reflected aura of so many holiday lights. The line also moved quickly and in an organized fashion and, in no time at all, I was at the top taking in the beauty of the city as picked out in its lights. This time I had climbed 250 steps—you can just imagine how heroic I felt after having climbed 450 steps in the morning! I do not believe that I will ever be capable of accomplishing this again. The climb to the Arc was also the first time ever that I would be undertaking it—and so I was excited.

All the way to the top of the Arc, there are exhibits—trivia and other facts that can keep the visitor occupied. Once at the top, you circumnavigate the viewing platform to take in the sights. I deliberately decided to see the views of Paris from the Cathedral of Notre-Dame by day and then to see the same sights by night from the Arc de Triomphe as I was sure that illuminations would portray the city in a completely different light (pun unintended!). Needless to say, I caught the Eiffel Tower ablaze at the 6.00 pm hour and that was a thrill in itself. I went through the process, all over again, of taking dozens of pictures and was particularly taken by the Champs-Elysses itself with its holiday decorations and its giant Ferris wheel at one end (close to the Place de la Concorde). By the time I descended all those steps again and came down to ground level, I found out that the daily ceremony of the Changing of the Guard that takes place around the immortal flame at the tomb of the unknown soldier, was in full swing. It was quite moving to see the simple pageantry with which these rituals are observed. It involved reading from a text, the hoisting and carrying of the bleu, blanc, rouge, the blowing of bugles and the singing of the national anthem, La Marseillaise. Again, I took many pictures and thought to myself how wonderful it was that I was having all these varied experienced on a single day.

By this time, as you can understand, I was quite drooping with fatigue and decided that I needed to get straight back home. However, I was hungry and needed something more substantial than a salad—so I hopped into a McDs to get myself a Croque Monsieur which is a toasted ham and cheese sandwich—I got a takeaway and was soon on the train arriving at my room at 9.00 pm. I was exhausted and after eating it with a salad, I showered and did not waste any time in going straight off to sleep.

Free Sunday in Paris had been a resounding success!

A demain!      

Mass at Notre Dame Cathedral, a Tour of the Conciergerie

Jun11

Sunday, June 10, 2012
Paris, France

Bonjour!

‘International’ Mass at the Cathedral of Notre Dame:
It was the second time in a week that I took public transport to get to the Ile de la Cite and this time round, I learned that I could get there on the RER (much faster than the metro) in just 15 minutes from my appartement! I arrived for the 11. 30 am “International Mass” in time to join the throngs waiting to enter The Cathedral of Notre Dame on a cloudy Sunday morning. Thankfully, queues were divided into those entering for “Messe” and those going for a mere “Visite”. I was ushered to a seat by une dame des colonies and a very good seat it was too.

International Mass turned out to be half in Latin, half in French, with a main celebrant from a former African colony. Thankfully, printed versions of the mass (with English, Spanish and German translations!) were distributed so that the obviously international congregation could follow easily. As opposed to the mainly non-white, immigrant congregations I have noticed in most Parisian churches, this one was mainly white, mainly tourists.

Beautiful singing and a beautiful homily in French, made the experience memorable. I had to pinch myself, not just to believe I was actually there in Paris at a magnificent Gothic cathedral that has stood since the 6th century but that it was neglected and almost razed to the ground until Victor Hugo stepped in to save it. His novel The Hunchback of Notre Dame is arguably responsible for bringing the cathedral to the public notice and saving it. Somewhat like my other hero–Sir John Betjeman–who single-handedly saved St. Pancras Station in London from the demolition brigade.

Visiting Rue de la Festival:
When Mass ended, I filed outside with the thousands of others who had taken a break from tourist hordes for quiet spiritual meditation. But outside on the Parvis, in celebration of Rue de la Festival, everyone was in festive mode. I entered a large white shamiana, out of curiosity, to discover a rap band belting out a song that had some reference to Sarkozy while cake, coffee, tea or jus d’orange were being offered if the audience cared to stay. I didn’t. My aim was to complete the walk around Ile de la Cite that I had begun a couple of days ago and it was at the Conciergerie that I intended to start.

Comme Flaneur:
Unfortunately, as is my wont, I strayed off the intended track and arrived at the quais of the Seine which took me to the Place du Vert Galant, considered to be one of the most magical in Paris. It is the mid-point of the Pont Neuf, which, despite its misleading name, is actually Paris’ oldest bridge. Its handsome masks enliven it, depicting, as they do, monsters with varied facial expressions–I found them fascinating.

Across the river, the Festival du Sud de France was in full spate. I simply had to check it out. So across the bridge and down the steps I went to the quai and roamed freely from stall to stall enjoying un peu degustation. Before I knew it, I was being offered every tasty morsel the South is capable of producing–smoked meats, cheese, delicious tapenades, wonderful sweet spreads, saffron-flavored honey, organic apricots and cherries, olive oil flavored with lemon rind or chilli flakes. I had eaten a madeleine earlier and I realized that these tidbits would have to suffice as it would be a while before I could get home for lunch. This is another one of the things I love about Paris–for the gourmet, there is always an endless variety of  goodies on which you can nibble. Sadly, my sulphur allergy keeps me from tasting the wines or else, you can be assured I would have been roaming the stalls with a verre in my hand!

The Conciergerie, Enfin:
Finally, I did find my way to the Conciergerie but not before I had taken many pictures of the bords de la Seine stretching along the length of the Louvre. How sad to see the famed department store La Samaritaine looking so hopelessly forlorn as it goes through a renovation. Many moons ago, as a struggling graduate backpacker in Paris, the rooftop of this store had been my poor man’s Eiffel Tower. Arthur Frommer’s ‘Europe on $50 a Day’ which had been my Bible at the time, had advised us to get to the rooftop for stunning views of the city–and I had done just that. How times change!

Well, to enter the Conciergerie, I had to pay a fee of 8. 50 euros–certainly well worth it. The man who inspected my ticket turned out to be a Tamilian from the former South Indian French colony of Pondicherry and how delighted he was to meet me and speak to me in French! He took special care to give me brochures in both French and English and directed me to the tour guide. But since the tour was only in French, I decided to use my guide book to find my own way around.

The value of that 8. 50 euros became increasingly clear to me! The Conciergerie which derives its name from the prison-keeper or Concierge, is rich in French Revolutionary History. We started our tour in the Hall des Gens D’Armes–the men with arms. In fact, it is from this expression that the French police–the gendarmes–get thier name! In centuries gone by, this part of the building–which is part of the complex of the Palais de Justice–was double-storied. The top storey has disappeared with time, but fragments of architecture survive to indicate its former presence.In the medieval hall, said to be the largest surviving one in Europe, large banquets were held on a long marble table–of which only one fragment, now nailed to the wall, survives. There is a kitchen at the side where those banquets were prepared, but it is now shut to the public.

At the end of the hall, past the gift shop, is where the true interest of this monument to history lies. One sees first the stalls or cells (cellules) that were occupied by the three classes of prisoners–for the Conciergerie started its life as a prison. Wax human models of bygone prisoners recreated the feeling of life in that dismal space. The Pailluex, those poorest prisoners who could afford nothing more, bedded down each night on straw, paille  in French–hence their name. Conditions were appalling as several inmates were crowded into one cell and the stench was revolting. Those who could afford to pay for a bed were the second class of prisoner. Although their conditions were equally grim, at least they could segregate themselves from the odor of the common spaces. The more famous of the prisoners–writers, political dissidents, celebrities–were given a tiny cell to themselves, a bed, a desk, a candle by which they could continue to read or write. They were the most exalted class of prisoner.

The exhibition then wound its way up a flight of stairs to a room in which glass vitrines contained a list of names of the thousands were who imprisoned in the Conciergerie before being sent to the guillotine on the Place de la Concorde during the bloody Revolution of 1789-93. The lists go on and on–making it obvious how merciless were the scales of Justice in that awful time.

Celebrity Prisoners in the Conciergerie Including Marie-Antoinette:
In yet another room, the visitor sees paintings, drawing, letters and some personal effects of well-known prisoners such as Madame du Barry, Danton and Robespierre (who initiated the Revolution and then were guillotined by it) and Charlotte Corday who murdered the Marquis de Sade in his bath tub. This room leads to the one in which Robespierre spent his last days.

You then descend down a staircase that leads to a chapel. It is behind the altar of this chapel that Marie-Antoinette was imprisoned and from where she went to her trial that lasted two days in a neighboring room in the Palais de Justice. In this room are three paintings that depict her last days–her conversion to religion by receiving Communion and making her last confession. Bas-reliefs on the wall pay homage to the memory of her husband, King Louis XVI who was killed before her and her sister-in-law Elizabeth.

The chapel leads out to the Women’s Courtyard where female prisoners were allowed to take the air daily. Contemporary accounts state that despite their incarceration, these French women still focused on their fashionable appearance and vied with each other to look their best. The poorer women rushed to a large marble fountain (still standing) to wash their clothing and themselves in an attempt to keep their sanity amid their decrepit conditions.

Marie-Antoinette’s Last Days:
A small door then leads the visitor to the most poignant part of the visit–the cell of Marie-Antoinette which has been replicated quite stunningly with wax models. Uneasy indeed lies the head that wears the crown. There are her guards and the partition screen that she was afforded to allow her to maintain her privacy. Her meagre possessions are also evident. Dressed in her final days as a widow, following news of the guillotining of her husband, she cut a sorrowful figure. It is reported that she remained a model of dignity during her trial–like the true Austrian princess she was. Two days after her trial, she was also guillotined at the Place de la Concorde where, again, she was possessed of tremendous dignity.

There are several films and slide shows that visitors can watch throughout the visit to get an idea of the horrific times that gripped France during the Revolution, when the Monarchy was overthrow and the nation was on the road to becoming a Republic.You can take pictures everywhere to immortalize your visit and at each stop there is a great deal to read, to look at, to take in, to absorb.

I spent over two hours at the Conciergerie and felt completely enlightened by my visit. Continuing with my intention to focus in Paris on those places I have never seen or been to, I am keeping the more celebrated sights for later in my stay. Tomorrow, for instance, in planning to get to the Catacombs and the Cemetery of Montparnasse, I will come to close grips with the morbidity of Paris,

Back at my apartment, I spent most of the evening online and, inspired by The Barefoot Contessa (Ina Garten)  made myself a superb grazing platter with all the odds and ends following what Nigella Lawson calls a Fridge Forage: cheese, pate, prosciutto, roast chicken, olives, tomatoes, apricots, cherries, toasted baguette–washed down with cups of my Laduree tea with lemon and honey. It is delicious and I will probably still have some scraps leftover for tomorrow.

A demain! 

Several Surprizes on Ile de la Cite

Jun7

Thursday, June 6, 2012
Paris, France

Bonjour!
I am convinced that I am a walkoholic–put me on a road in a fab city with a map in my hand and I’m off. Either that or I’m a sucker for punishment. Because after everything I went through the last time Plantar Fascittis hit me, in London, four years ago, you’d think I’d have learnt my lesson, right? Wrong! Indeed, now that I know how to cope with the condition and because I have the absolute best pair of walking shoes in the world (Dansko Clogs), I have been pushing myself just that one step further.

So this morning, I decided to take it easy. God forbid a relapse of the foot pain! In fact, that might be the least of it. What will do me in is having to take the foot rest! Two whole weeks without moving from this place….it’s not even something that bears thinking about.

To help me stick to my resolve, I actually woke up after 8 am (instead of 5 am!)–which is such a good thing because it means I am finally over Australian jetlag. No doubt I have been going to bed only after 11. 30 pm–but then how can one possibly retire for the night when it is still bright outside? By the time I finished with breakfast, plotting and planning my forthcoming exploration and catching up with email, most of the morning had passed by. I fixed myself a cheese and pate sandwich for lunch and by 1.30 pm I was off.

Exploring Part of the Ile de la Cite:
DK Eyewitness Guide’s walkabout Ile de la Cite looked too ambitious to be undertaken in one go–so I decided to divide the venture into two installments. For this afternoon’s jaunt, I chose to do the bit that included The Cathedral of Notre-Dame and taking the RER to St. Michel–Notre-Dame found myself right in the midst of the island with possibly every tourist in Paris. I mean the square was just jumping. Outside on the Parvis (the square) I had to fight my way to get to the Main entrance for which there is no fee.

Just inside the great doors is a kiosk where I heard a woman with an American accent announce the fact that she was going to give a tour in English in 15 minutes– at 2. 00pm. Parfait! That would give me 15 minutes for silent prayer in the very front of the church from which tourists are debarred. But how mistaken I was! In defiance of every sign that prohibited entry to those who merely wished to click pictures of the Rose Windows, the nave was also jumping! Well, there was no way to avoid it. I tried to block out the din and almost succeeded….when I heard the same voice over the PA system announce the English tour.

Guided Theology Tour in English of Note-Dame:
There were at least 25 people awaiting the lady who arrived with a sign and introduced herself. Granted, she did say that she was giving a tour that would last between 60 and 90 minutes…possibly the longest tour I have ever taken anywhere! She also did warn us that her tour was based on Christian Teaching as Represented by the Sculpture–so I guess I should  have expected what followed. Still, I have to say I was suprized that not a single date was mentioned and the only secular name I heard was that of Viollet Le Duc. Everything was generalized: she spoke in terms of the 13th century and 19th century, the Middle Ages, The Renaissance. I would have loved some detail about the techniques involved in the building of Gothic churches–but of such matters, there was very little.

For the most part, she stayed outside the Cathedral, either very close to the main doors or in the Parvis as she named the apostles carved on the walls and explained the iconography attached to their depictions (keys for Peter, tablets for Moses–who, for some bizarre reason, she kept naming with a peculiarly grave and gruff tone–a yardstick for Doubting Thomas). She also pointed out the newer 19th century additions to the portals and the parables they depict. A great deal of time was spent talking about “the Smoking Place” and explaining the significance of the cauldron and the flames!

After more than an hour, when most of us were flagging, we did finally go inside…and what did she talk about…but more theological messages contained in the stained glass windows. No mention whatsoever of Charles Le Brun’s ‘May’ paintings that cover every single one of the side chapels (one was presented each May to the Cathedral by the different Medieval guilds). A passing reference to ‘The Pieta’ which is the central sculpture on the main altar–I bet the group did not know that Nicolas Coustou sculpted it or that the gorgeous wooden choir stalls were commissioned by Louis XIV in the 18th century in keeping with a promise he had made to his father. A lengthy oration on the pillars and the marks left by each stone cutter followed–I thought this was the only enlightening part of the tour.  Overall, I was deeply dissatisfied. So I guess I was shocked when one of the participants actually asked her if she had a background in Art History! “No”, she said, “I wish. My background is the Bible”. OK, that made complete sense to me. No wonder the tour contained no references whatsoever to the artistic aspects of the cathedral. Thank goodness for my book which filled in the gaps.

Little-Known Lanes on the Ile de la Cite:
On past visits to Notre Dame, all I have done is visit the cathedral and leave. This time round, I circled the exterior, noting the intricacy of the flying buttresses and the famous gargoyles. I walked down the Rue D’Arcole and discovered one souvenir store after the other selling the most beautiful souvenirs: aprons printed with Toulouse-Lautrec paintings, sets of coasters featuring Impressionist masterpieces, shopping bags featuring vintage soap packaging, porcelain mugs and cups and saucers with spoons built into their handles, table mats depicting Paris’ traditional shop fronts: le boulangerie, le patisserie, le boucherie, le cremerie,  and so on. I mean not your run-of-the-mill kitsch…this was really charming stuff. I do wish I had the weight allowance to carry back some of these goodies. I know a lot of folks who would love them.

Further down the walk, I discovered a delightful side street called Rue Chanoinesse which has such a multiplicity of architectural styles on just one curving street as to charm me right off my feet. I actually had to sit down in the Square Jean XXIII that is dedicated to Pope John XXIII at the very back of the cathedral practically at the end of the island. Filled with roses that were just past their prime, it was a real surprize as I did not even know such a sweet haven of serenity existed.

Then as I was making my way to the metro station (and it was one of those glorious Art Nouveau wrought-iron affairs that are now so rarely spotted in Paris), I noticed Le Marche Aux Fleurs et Oiseaux (the Flower and Bird Market). And, of course, I had to pause there as well and take in the sight of hydrangeas and azaleas and other summer flowers. I did not see any birds but perhaps they used to be around in days gone by. I understand that Paris was once full of such markets but this is the only one remaining.

More Foodie Finds on the Champs-Elysses:
Well, as you can tell, I was naughty and did not stick to my resolve. The fact that it stays bright until really late doesn’t help—I simply feel as if I have to use up every last ray of daylight! So taking the metro, I made my way to the Champs-Elysses to buy a dozen more caramel and hazelnut yogurt pots as I adore them. On the way to the store, I passed by Monoprix and I simply had to go and get my supply of Cote D’Or dark chocolate with hazelnuts. And when I found how cheaply everything was priced, well, then I had to buy some smoked salmon from Norway and some serrano ham from Spain and some salami from Genoa…not to mention my chocolate and then…there it was! The Carte d’Or ice-cream that I love–Caramel and Pecans. Of course, I had to get some!

Across the road was Laduree and how could I resist getting some of the Melange de Maison–my very favorite tea in the whole world?  Eventually, when I did get to M&S, guess what? They did not have a single pot of my favorite yogurt left. I was so bummed! Well, I could not leave empty-handed, so I picked up a Victoria Sponge–because how can you have tea without a slice of cake, right?

Equipped with my food buys, I finally made it home and without wasting a second, I sat down to a cuppa and a slice of cake–make that two! The evening passed blissfully with a shower and because I overdid the carbs at tea time, it was a healthy salad for me for dinner. I am getting very creative with the limited supplies in my pantry and concocted a rather good citrus dressing made with mayonnaise and orange marmalade! My roasted chicken loved it! Dessert was…you guessed it, my Carte d’Or. I missed Llew because he is the ice-cream champion and I know he’d have enjoyed it.

It was about 11. 30 when I switched off the light.

PS: So far, so good with my feet! Touch wood!

A demain!