Paris Epilogue

James waxes poetic on his final night of the trip about how his heart is being tugged in two by Paris. One wants to stay so he can run across the street and play in the rain, and the other wants to go home and play video games (notably “Stardew Valley”). He turns his thoughts into a poem. (James says he got the idea of his heart being tugged in two from a "Chicken Squad" book, but the illustrations are all James.)

(I considered cropping the poem about two-thirds down because I think the beginning is better. But sometimes it’s nice to have some insight into the mind of a 7-year-old, like about how he misses his favorite video game and his stuffed golden retrievers, Bowser and Goldie. “D. Dude” is what he calls the dalmatian “tattoo” on his arm. Also, if I cropped it early you’d miss out on the drawing of the smiling heart back together again at the end.)

James has said since the beginning of first grade that he wants to be a poet when he grows up. Despite my angsty high school days editing a literary magazine, I assure you I’ve never encouraged him in this direction. I think it’s because he likes rhyming words. This poem is the first he’s written where he didn’t.

Day 15: Au Revoir...

Day 15: Au Revoir…

I’m determined to make an Eiffel Tower run the morning before we check out, so I wake early, hike to three bakeries to get pastries for breakfast (the first two are still closed from Bastille Day. The French are pretty loose about things like shop hours.), and pack three suitcases. Mark questions whether we’ll have enough time for the Tower, and I’m like, “After all this you’d better believe it!”

Julia reads a book to James on the ridiculously tacky chair in our Air BnBrothel.

After we Uber there we have at most 20 minutes. We don’t have enough time to go to the
Trocadero but we do walk around next to the Eiffel Tower and the nearby bridge crossing
the Seine.

Kathy, Mark, James, and Julia next to the Eiffel Tower and the Seine.

What usually happens when Julia and James stand next to each other for a picture.

We fly home and we all wake up between 3 and 4:30 a.m. because of jet lag. The next day we go to dinner at Burma Ruby, which we’ve been craving, and although the kids are awake when we arrive, they fall asleep before the entrees (James, before the appetizers), and we end up carrying them passed out to the car. It looks like we tranquilized them for date night. James has no memory of even being there.

Mark and Kathy in Charles de Gaulle Airport

In retrospect, going out to dinner a few hours before bedtime the first night back might not have been such a good idea.

Julia’s favorite thing of the day: Eiffel Tower, sleeping in own bed (she’s not a fan of sleeping with James)
James’s favorite: Eiffel Tower

Day 14: Bastille, Schmastille Day

Paris Epilogue

Day 14: Bastille Day, Schmastille Day

We’re in Paris for Bastille Day (and were in London for the Fourth of July), which sounds great except things don’t work out so well. We try to walk across the Pont Alexandre III, regarded as the most ornate bridge in the city, but it’s closed due to either the earlier military parade down the Champ Elysees (of course Trump was also there) or the fireworks that evening. Next we find out that the area by the Eiffel Tower is closed and so is Trocadero, the best picture taking spot. (No “squishing the Eiffel Tower” photos for us.) I had planned to go here the previous night after our tour but forgot about it once the tour was cancelled, so we never did get to see the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. I’ll just assume this qualifies as another “Curse you, Donald Trump!”

Julia and James run across some nets by the Seine.

The Eiffel Tower was at the end of the street where we had lunch. Sadly this is the closest we could get.

Kathy holds her model of the Eiffel Tower... or does she?

Kathy, James, Julia, and Mark in their requisite Eiffel Tower picture.

James and Julia liked sliding down this bike ramp.

Homeless Chewbacca has seen better days.

Since we can’t get close to the Eiffel Tower and we’re already in the neighborhood, I subject everyone to walking around to look at Art Nouveau architecture instead.

Art Nouveau building, 29 Rapp, from 1901. From my guidebook: "Art Nouveau to the extreme , with colourful glazed ceramic tiles and an extravagant doorway representing an inverted phallus inside a vulval arch." Of course.

Standing at the outside edge of the roundabout encircling the Arc du Triomphe, we are blocked by the unbroken, eight-lane stream of traffic with no apparent way to get across. Mark wants to try to run across and repeatedly suggests that we “just Frogger it.” (He later claims that he was joking.) Fortunately we eventually notice a staircase to a tunnel below the traffic and we take that instead.

Mark carries James around at the Arc de Triomphe.

We take Metro to Jacques Genin, a high end chocolatier for a chocolate snack. Julia is unhappy at first (as you all know by now, she hates chocolate), but then gets free pâtes de fruits from our server. We drink our third hot chocolate of the trip and finish our snack at 7 p.m. And dinner is still to come after 9 p.m. - such is our schedule in Paris.

Our dinner in Montmartre is a salad topped with fried potatoes, our restaurant’s specialty.
You got potatoes on my salad! You got salad on my potatoes! Mark isn’t as impressed
but I declare it the best meal in Paris. We walk all the way up to Sacre Coeur and
scramble to find a spot to see fireworks. We had heard this was a good place to watch,
and we had zero interest in the other suggested spot - camping out by the Eiffel Tower
in the mid-afternoon and waiting until 11 p.m. for the fireworks to start. We are baffled as
to why this is a popular firework watching spot since the fireworks are really far away
and we can’t even see the Eiffel Tower. We leave before they’re even over. Le letdown.

Julia’s favorite thing of the day: Eiffel Tower

James’s favorite: Winning Street Fighter game at Publicis Drugstore (It’s a drug store
we went inside to buy some water and discovered a Joel Robuchon restaurant and a
Pierre Herme macaron counter. What kind of crazy drug store IS this?)

Day 13: Foiled by Trump!
Day 15: Au Revoir...

Day 13: Foiled by Trump!

We discover that our Behind the Scenes Eiffel Tower tour is cancelled (and can’t be rescheduled) because Trump and Macron will be there. (If you saw the picture of them eating dinner in the Eiffel Tower, know that it was at the hour we were supposed to be there!)

We eat lunch at Pirouette and bunny-lover Julia is not at all happy to see that rabbit is on
the menu. On the way there we see actual mimes performing in front of Pompidou
Center. The night before, Mark’s mom asked if we’d seen any mimes and I foolishly
scoffed at the idea.

Julia wanted to hug me and never let go. Please tell me they'll always be like this.

We spend our day on the two islands in the middle of the Seine: Ile de la Cite and Ile Saint-Louis. We begin at Sainte Chapelle, a 13th century church with one after another after another of amazing floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. It’s definitely the underappreciated gem of Ile de la Cite compared to the other more famous church.

Sainte Chappelle

James is awed by Sainte Chappelle.

Next we arrive at Notre Dame (that would be the other more famous church) to find a long line snaking through the courtyard. We’re told it moves fast but it seems to be at a standstill. We hear that Melania is inside with Macron’s wife (I can’t shake a stick in Paris without hitting a Trump. Watch out, Eric, you’re next.) so we opt to return later.

We walk to Ile Saint-Louis to relax inside Berthilion with some of their famous ice cream and
Parisian hot chocolate. When we return to Notre Dame the line isn’t that bad, and we notice
that the gaggle of Americans behind us in tube dresses are not allowed inside. Notre Dame:
Slut shaming since 1345. The kids are really disappointed because we planned to climb the
tower but they closed that area off early. Thanks, Melania!

James drinks his second hot chocolate of the trip at Berthilion.

Julia climbs the gate of Notre Dame.

Julia shows James some sisterly love at Notre Dame.

We cap off our day with an encore of Breton-style crepes at Chez Imogene near our apartment. I realize when we get home from the trip that eating dinner each night in our neighborhood away from the center of things might not have been the best plan. We never really experienced Paris as “The City of Lights.”

Julia pretends to eat a macaron magnet.

Julia’s favorite thing of the day: Sainte Chappelle

James’s favorite: ice cream

Day 12: Lovin' the Louvre

Day 14: Bastille Day, Schmastille Day