May 19 Paris
Getting a bit behind in my postings here. Wednesday, we went to the 16e to visit the Fondation Corbusier to see his Maison La Roche. We got there behind a group of Spanish school girls, so waited until the hubbub quieted before we put on our disposable booties, were told, "Don't Touch Nothing!" and then let loose. The house is marvelously simple, with straight angles and gentle curves, everything balanced and pleasing to the eye. A bright color like yellow might be used as an accent, but the walls were either brights white for light and contrast or a very human pink that is pleasing to skin. I would have liked to have gone out on the rooftop patio, which was flooded with light, but the door was locked, alas. The neighborhood is charming too, lots of modern architecture, including one of Ira's favorites, Mallet-Stevens. There's a whole street of his work that looks like a movie set where rich people are having a good time.

Then we took a long cab ride to the 9e, both to relax and to get to the Musee de la Vie Romantique, which is located in the most charming house that was the salon of painter Ary Scheffer. One of the most notable guests at these salons was Georges Sand, and you can find lots of her memorabilia there. It's a charming little place, more noted for its lovely surroundings and garden. We all fell in love with a rose bush there. It's that kind of place.

We wandered the neighborhood to look for a suitable restaurant and came upon La Clairiere, a simple place, which emphasized light, fresh foods. The ladies had salads and a vegetable medley I had a lamb shoulder, and Ira had the charcuterie plate. Typically, we've been pigging out, but this was a simple meal. We did have a wonderful rose wine, which we've had lots on this trip.

Then it was home and nap time. Dinner was near the Jardin du Luxembourg, so Ira and I took the bus down and walked through the gardens just as the sun was laying its last, horizontal rays across the large fountain and pond there.

Then we made it to the restaurant, Au Bon Saint Pourcain. Ira and I secured an outside table and we waited for Ann and Roberta. And waited and waited. They were late because the cab driver couldn't find the street. The owner of the restaurant was an old bristly-eyebrowed crab, and he was furious at us for taking over his table and not eating. They eventually came and we eventually got food, but he never warmed up to us. My before was particularly notable, leeks in a buttery sauce that just melted in your mouth. Ira and I both had rabbit in a mustard sauce. While good, it wasn't as good as some of the lapin that I've had in European trips. The ladies had chicken, which was again, serviceable, nothing more. The wine was a delightful Saint Pourcain. My dessert was the highlight of the evening, perhaps the best creme brulee, I've ever had. It was so light, and the top so crunchy, that I was sad to see it go. I'd go back to the restaurant just for that dish, though the owner would probably have an apoplectic fit if we did!

We walked back home through the Germain-des-Pres neighborhood. It was crowded with young people having a good time. Ira enjoyed the luxe furniture shops, but not the endless motorcycles that roared past. It was a long walk back to the hotel. Too long, but we did cross the Pont des Arts, which was packed full of young folks sitting in clumps here and there, drinking wine from the bottle and smoking cigarettes. Not my scene, but it was a charming scene nonetheless. There must have been over a thousand people on the bridge, with more spilling out onto the quai below on the right bank. If you're under 25, go there when you're in Paris!

I looked back as we were crossing just in time to notice the champagne lights on the Eiffel Tower exploding. Marvelous. Paris knows how to do it just right.