Early on in Chris' Paris adventures, he developed an impressive mental map of Paris that made my guidebook fumblings look even more desperate. He remembers boulevards, avenues, boulangeries and even where we sat in a restaurant. Chris remembers faces of waiters, whether the beer was served cold or if the jambon baguette had Dijon mustard. I can be a bit directionless and have less of a memory; perhaps I spend too much time looking up to admire Parisians' window flower boxes? Anyway, his recollections earned him the nickname "King France".
|King France doesn't need this!|
We did what we always do on our first day in Paris together - walk the city from end to end with a final stop at Place de la Concorde to see that perfect Paris 360 degree view. I think it's the view that everyone imagines when they think of Paris: stand near the Obelisk, staring straight ahead up the Champs at the Arc de Triomphe, turn to your left and you will see the Seine with the Eiffel Tower looming in the distance and the gold tips of Pont Alexandre III, then the dramatic facade of Assemblée Nationale, turning back to the Muséede l’Orangerie and the manicured grounds of the Tuileries Gardens, with a view of the Louvre pyramid through the Arc de Triomphe de Carrousel, as you complete your circle you will make out the bright pops of flowers on the steps of La Madeleine before returning your eyes to the Arc de Triomphe. This view is our Paris touchstone.
Vive le King France!
Paris celebrity sighting...
Karl Lagerfeld's "The Glory of Water" (Wallpaper article about the exhibit) opened today in Paris in a specially built exhibition space on the right bank of the Seine. Less than 10 minutes into our left bank walk early this morning, Chris looks over at the space and spots Monsieur Lagerfeld with his sunglasses, gleaming white hair, black trench and entourage. So close but so far!
Paris not-so celebrity sighting...
Shortly after, still swooning from Monsieur Lagerfeld, Chris nearly shoved me behind a Parisian garbage can to show me a rat perched atop a crushed water bottle. Thankfully I locked my legs and closed my eyes and missed saying "bonjour" to my least favourite resident of Paris.