Paris - La Dernière Fois (The Last Time)

With only two weeks left in France, what does one do?  One goes to Paris, of course.

I caught the 11:00 am train Friday, and rolled into Paris about 1:15 in the afternoon.  My efforts at locating a hotel fell woefully short, but that wasn't realized at the time.  It took afternoon temperatures in the 80s (F) to cause me to question my sanity about returning to Houston.  Am I out of my friggin' mind? (I think yes, but, I'm an American boy and should be there.)  

This is all to report that the hotel didn't have air conditioning, something I should have known to look for when searching on Booking.com.  How the hell can you charge over $200/night and not provide either air conditioning or women?  It's astounding.

It was 3:00pm by the time I got checked in and my stuff stored away, so I decided to meander around the Latin Quarter, one of my favorite areas.  In case you don't know, or haven't read previous posts on the subject, it is called that because that's where the major schools are (i.e., the Sorbonne).  Latin was the dominant language of education for a thousand years or more...hence, the Latin Quarter.

One of the beauties of just roaming around Paris is the treats you find.   Looking for a brief rest I find this delightful little park and walk in for a short rest.

Sitting down, I watch groups of men playing boche ball (or  its close cousin Patenque) and the young ones playing soccer.  Then I note that the place has a vaguely familiar shape to it.

A little research yields that it is the Arènes de Lutèce, site of a 1st Century Roman coliseum.  In its time it was capable of holding 10,000 people.


So, where old men play boche ball and children practice their football moves, gladiators used to fight to the death.  I still can't get over all the history of this place.

 After relaxing a little in the park I'm up and roaming again.  Another treat.  I pass a restaurant called, 'Breakfast In America.'  Most of you know my problems finding good ol' U.S. breakfasts here in Europe and, there, right on the street is an answer.  Filed away for future review.

Saturday I'm up bright and early wending my way via the Metro back to the Latin Quarter.  Yeah, I know, in a couple of weeks I can have all of this I want, but it's been a while and I want eggs...eggs...fried...avec...bacon...and toast...and French cafe...(what was that latter?).  Some things are just too good to give up.   (Note: there are two of these restaurants in Paris and I have now eaten at both.  It's close...but not 100% "American."  In France they can not resist fancying' up anything with garlic and poivre.  But it's good.  Most know my thoughts on green peppers.)

After a leisurely breakfast I catch the RER to Versailes-Chantiers.  It's then only a 2K walk to the Chateau Versailles.

One of many old government buildings near the Court

 The main entrance area.  Are you starting to see a lot of something here?

Louis XIV - The Sun King












I should have known better.  For crying out loud, I've been to two rodeos and a world's fair...and I'm an ex-GI, I know what lines mean.  All those people standing around the entrance area should have been a clue.  But no, I'm determined to see Louis XIV's extravagance and I will myself to ignore the line to buy a ticket. Besides, it was only about 200 feet long winding into one of the magnificent buildings.  It wouldn't get worse than that, right? Wrong again trench-foot breath.

Twenty-five Euros ($37.50) later I have my ticket and walk out among the hordes.  And I mean hordes.  Put 'em on horses and Genghis Khan springs to mind.  But, on the whole, much more polite. It is France, after all.

I walk out toward the entrance I had noted on my way into the ticket building and see gendarmes pushing a bunch of people away from the line there.  At first I didn't understand what they were doing, then I realize they are preventing the unknowing (like me) from cutting in line in front of those who have patiently served their time in line (and hell) and that now it's my (our) turn.




Looking to the right I see a line wending its way through the mass of parked cars back down the large courtyard to the main palace gates, at least 300 feet.









Then, guess what?  The line turns around a line of cars, and wends its way back up to the line where I thought I was going to enter the Chateau.  All ex-GIs know what I'm going through at this point.  I, like them, have a doctorate in queues...a virtual lifetime degree in waiting for something.  And I don't do it well.  None of us do.

But, you gotta admit, the entrance is pretty.

I finally entered the palace.

Check out that ceiling.

Another ceiling.

Walls aren't bad either.

The entrance to the Hall of Mirrors.

This guy was looking at himself in the mirror across the hall. (I certainly do not know why.)

She was checking him out though.

Anyone seen my clothes?  I was at the party and...well, you know...

Louis XIV

I've pointed out before that none of these folks are very good looking.  This ol' boy would make a freight train take a dirt road.

Napoleon's Throne

He wasn't born to extravagance...but he managed to get there.  Sort of like our modern-day elites...the investment bankers.






Back outside I head out toward the gardens.

My intention was to see Marie Antoinette's chateau but I just flat ran out of patience with so many people.  You couldn't swing a dead cat and not hit someone in the head.  In addition to lines, ex-GIs don't care much for crowds.  So, I picked up my marbles and headed out, returning to Paris looking forward to a nap and some great lamb later.

One of the metro stations.

This little park was just up the street from my hotel.  I just love the way they are everywhere in Paris.



After a nice nap, I headed for the Edgar Quinet metro stop.  This is just east of the Montparnasse railway station and another favorite area of mine.  It's very neat, with great little shops, and some good restaurants.  And one of my favorites is surprising.  It's a "Kebob" place.  You see these small restaurants everywhere in France with their tall standing meat roast from which they cut slices upon request.   I haven't tried many of them, and those I have I haven't liked very much.  Except for La Paix at 14, Rue d'Odessa in Paris.  On my first trip to Paris I found myself worn out early one evening and not wanting anything but something quick so I could go back and get to bed, I saw this Kurdish/Turkish "Kebob" place and went in.  In the always present meal pictures I saw Grilled Lamb Shish Kabob, and, loving lamb, I said, "What the heck," and ordered it.  Was it good?  I'll let you be the judge.  I have come back to this little restaurant every time I've come to Paris since that evening.  And I have never been disappointed. It is the best, tenderest, juiciest lamb I've ever eaten ANYWHERE!  It is served with a small salad, white rice, a yellow, spicy rice, and the ubiquitous frites, all on one large plate.  Price: 13€.  Touch that anywhere else in town.  And I think I can guarantee you, you will not find better.

Out Sunday morning on my way to the second 'Breakfast In America' restaurant I saw this banner near the Pont Marie metro stop on the Seine.  Had to take the picture for my collector friend Roger R.  (Eat your heart out son!)

Later, on my way back from breakfast I stop at the Edgar Quinet metro again.  There's always something going on here and today it's a sidewalk art sale.  Neat stuff.  Even purchased a few items.

Got back to Nantes about 3:00PM.

Nantes Train Station