Paris: Fin

Sunday (which seems like ages ago) we vanned up to SFO and took off around noon for Detroit, where we transferred to a flight to Paris. The overnight flight with almost-flat motorized seats would been perfect for sleeping were it not for the frequent turbulence, which when you're asleep feels like a series of earthquakes. Mask, earplugs, champagne all provided in business class -- not fun but not torture. I woke up to the sound of glassware as breakfast was being served. As would be true in Paris, breakfast had no source of protein.

I may be detail-oriented, but I'm not perfect -- when Paul called the shuttle service from baggage at De Gaulle, they chided us for not having appeared the previous day as per our reservation. Well, we took off the previous day -- forgot we arrived Monday. Then while waiting for them, Paul realized we had forgotten one of his bags, so he had to make his way back through a security gate to fetch it, which took some doing. But at last after much waiting around for other passengers, we moved onto the expressway for the city.

The Villa Mazarin, our hotel, is small but pleasant and well-located in the Marais. The mostly-gay staff has been friendly, pointing out bars and restaurants, and the first guy we checked in with took one look at our luggage and upgraded us to a larger room, normally 300 euros a night. Which reminds me to point out that this is one of the most expensive cities in the world -- more than New York or London. We are going through euros at a prodigious rate, as a stop at a brasserie in the 7th Arrondissement today (mainly to get out of the ran) cost us 21 euros for a glass of wine, coffee, and minimal salads. Only fools order a la carte at restaurants, with the price fixe the only affordable option -- typical meals in a low-level restaurant are about 20 euros, or $30 apiece.

The first day we got oriented, walked around, ate dinner, and rested. The second day we toured Notre Dame and went to the Musee d'Orsay for the Impressionist collection; the reuse of a railway station was also worth seeing. As in all the museums, signage is confusing and flow difficult. The crush of summer tourism overloads all the major facilities. We bought a museum pass at a tourism info office and thus avoided many lines.

After the museum, we went directly to the gym recommended by zzbear, the Club Med. 25 euros for a day pass, crowded with sensuous Frenchmen, hot. We met a nice fellow named Yves who had lived in the US 20 years prior, who now works in upper levels of advertising; regretfully he excused himself. Alas for us, all the hot men had made themselves scarce while we showered. It is not hard to see why hardly anyone in Paris is muscled -- the support for it is not there; you can't get protein-rich food easily, the gyms are too crowded and poorly-equipped, and the culture does not favor larger size. Only in the gay zone did we see any musclemen, and not many of those.

Tuesday night we had dinner at a cheap Chinese buffet (to get some vegetables -- you cannot get any decent size portions of protein or vegetables in the average restaurant here.) It's all about bread and butter and cheese. No wonder everyone is thin -- all they do is walk around smoking and talking on their cellphones all day, stopping occasionally to occupy a table to smoke and drink some wine. A little bread and butter stokes them up to walk and talk some more.

After dinner, we dropped into the Wolf bar and spent a few minutes soaking up atmosphere. Coaxed Paul into coming with me down to their darkroom, where there was much passionate whispering and moaning in French, but nothing visible. Every time we stopped to kiss a little, someone would show up to watch in case something happened, so we gave up on voyeur-tourisme and left for the Bears' Den (note the careful punctuation, which made me like the owners immediately!) More not interacting, except for the older Arab gentleman who worked very hard to get my attention and would not go away until I started smooching Paul to get across the point. Geez.

Today was the Louvre. Argh! The humanity! We tried to get there early, but it was almost 10 AM when we arrived, and thousands of people were pouring in via the underground entrance we could use with our passes; I have no idea how awful it was on the surface near the pyramid. The next few hours were about dodging people traveling in crowds, trying to get from place to place (like Folsom Street Fair, with exhibits.) Ticked off the usual must-sees -- La Gioconda, the Venus de Milo, the Egyptian rooms, some random eras of painting as we got from place to place. By lunch we were tired out, and even lunch was a crowded, difficult affair with no seating and lines for everything. Like the Smithsonian, but less well-managed. The other thing that's different is that the museums tolerate picture taking without flash -- which sounds innocuous until you've seen crowds of people halting all flow to take pictures of everything that looks remotely interesting. It seriously detracts from the ability to actually look at and enjoy the art....

Not to sound like the Ugly American -- the people have been very pleasant, we haven't met one surly waiter, and everyone seems quite helpful. We are surrounded by American pop culture, including most of the background music and movie posters. The Simpsons with French dubbing was quite amusing.

It was raining heavily off and on all day. In the afternoon, we crossed the river and headed over to the Hotel National des Invalides. Saw some cannons and Napoleon's tomb. As we tried to leave cloudburst after cloudburst hit, soaking even under the umbrellas, so we fled to the nearest Metro station and went back to our room. Which is why I have time to post this before dinner.