OK, Blogger was down, and then I had some technical difficulties here at the apartment, but I'm finally online. Here's the account of the first day. I'll catch up later. Some pix of the apt will be up later too. Now, it's off to the Grand Palais!

May 11/12 San Francisco to Paris

I had some charming seat mates across the Atlantic, a couple from Berkeley who were just friendly enough to pass the time and no TOO friendly, just perfect. Meeting Ira at the airport was easy. His plane landed 30 minutes after mine and he was right out and we hopped in a cab.

Here's where things got a bit sticky. We had to wait on the street for two ours with our bags before the apartment people came to let us in and give us a key. I was pissed, and the woman attempted to lie and say we were supposed to be there at 3:30. I showed her the e-mail confirming we would be there at two and her confirmation. That shut her up.

The apartment is fun. I've included a few pictures. The only drawback is that the sleeping loft is only right for very small people. But no matter, the living room is expansive, and the location is perfect.

I was a bit jetlagged, so we took it easy the first day. We're at 7 rue Pecquay, in the heart of the Marais. We scouted out likely locations for a boulangerie, and cheese shop, and market. We came back with water and juice and yogurt for breakfasts.

Lunch was at a casual little bistro called Bistro Bouledogue , which indeed does have a little bulldog woofing away at the bar. Nice, simple meal. I had a croque bouledogue, which is the typical croque monsieur on fancier bread and Ira just had some forgettable cheese. We then wandered rue Rambuteau and circled around the Centre Georges Pompidou, which is looking a bit dirty again after its last cleaning. (By contrast, Notre Dame has been cleaned and it looks shiny and new!) We strolled off in that direction, heading for Ile St. Louis. We passed by City Hall, which had a kids basketball tournament in its front courtyard. Of course, the building is an unholy mess of things, but it's a fun mess.

At the Ile, west down and had enormous ice cream sundaes, a Liegois for Ira and something called a Coupe Betise for me, which translates roughly into "Naughty Cup." We then walked home and took a nap and made plans for dinner. Our first choice, Benoit, was full up, but we got in at Les Fous d'en Face, which was charmingly funky. Wood interior with lots of aging posters stuck on the walls and random jeremiads against "vins d'autoroute," which burn on the way down and on the way out. Ira's first was gorgeous, white asparagus fanned out on a plate with a beurre blank. Then there was this rosette of pastry dough containing diced tomatoes, which were a wonderful complement to the asperge blanc. I had ouefs cocotte, which is basically a shirred egg with a dollop of cream on top. My second was andouillette and mustarde, with some greens on the side. Ira had a vegetable pate. The wine, despite the restaurant's commitment to it, was only mediocre. We ended the evening with a walk home through the boy bars of the Marais, everything hopping on a Thursday night.