Wednesday
Got up at 9:00 for our first full day in Paris. We both showered and went downstairs to the lobby for breakfast. I am failing miserably at speaking French. It’s not that I’m saying the wrong things, necessarily. It’s that I’m not really trying to speak French at all. I mean, I’m TRYING to try, but whenever I open my mouth, it comes out in English.
(Photo credit: Mrs. Farrago)Breakfast consisted of a piece of ham…sort of like a slice of lunchmeat rolled up and presented for comsumption…and a hard-boiled egg, and a basket of breads. Wife got the pain au chocolat. We also had cafe americain and jus d’orange.
We went up to the room and made sort of a game plan: find the mooring for Les Bateaux Vedettes, the location of tonight’s group function, and find as well the restaurant where our smaller group was reserved for dinner. Then we were to go to Notre Dame to see what it looks like inside.
(Photo credit: Mrs. Farrago.It’s still pretty damn cold outside, so the walk to the Seine was not the most comfortable. We were able to navigate fairly easily. Wife got her bearings for the place much more quickly than did I. We first found the restaurant, Ze Kitchen Galerie, and then beyond there was the river and Ile de la Cité. Pont Neuf is just east of the westernmost point of the island, and Pont Neuf is where Les Bateaux Vedettes is. We took a few photos along the way, and at the very tip of Ile de la Cité.
We then walked east along the river on the island that is Ile de la Cité, past le Palais de Justice and un gendarmerie, until we arrived at Notre Dame. The scaffolding that was there in 2002 is now gone, fortunately, but the view of the main entrance is blocked by a large, decorated Christmas tree. We took a ton of photos of each other there. It would have been great to have had the tripod for shots of both of us, but carrying it in this cold would be a monster bitch.
An interior view of Notre Dame cathedral. (Photo credit: FarragoWe headed back to the hotel in a meandering path, originally with a mind to find Thursday evening’s restaurant. The cold was penetrating our clothes, so we decided just to go back to the hotel. When we got to our block, we made a quick detour into Monoprix, a grocery chain store, for a sandwich jambon et emmentaler, which we brought back to eat in the room with the tea service I brought up from the lobby.
At 4:30 or so co-worker number two called me to ask if we knew where the boat trip was, and I told him I did, but I didn’t know what time we were to meet. He said that bossy co-worker had told him, so we decided to walk to Les Bateaux Vedettes with co-worker number two and his girlfriend. We left at 5:15 with a meeting time of 5:30, for a departure time of 5:45. It took us more like 25 minutes to walk there, and we must have been just a minute from missing the boat! Time sure seems to go faster here, even if you’re not having so much fun.
The boat disembarked from the mooring for its one-hour tour while bossy co-worker was pouring champagne into our plastic flutes. The tour guide began narrating the trip, and our group was soundly hushed by the people in the seating section next to ours because they couldn’t hear the narration over our chatter. I felt like the stupid, loud, boorish American I didn’t want to be perceived as. We reached the Eiffel Tower and the boat began to turn around. Wife suggested we go outside for some photos from the stern of the boat. It was the best idea, despite the cold. Owner stopped and chatted with us a couple of times out there. We left the Eiffel Tower and headed back past the boat’s mooring, out to Notre Dame and beyond before turning back again and heading “home.”
The Eiffel Tower in all its glory, as viewed from the Seine. (Photo credit: Farrago)Since wife and I were the only ones who knew where Ze Kitchen Galerie is, the rest of our dinner group put us in the lead. We arrived around 6:50, but our reservation wasn’t until 7:30, and the restaurant staff said they were closed at the moment. It was decided that we would go for drinks, and co-worker number two, appropriately, was appointed the leader for finding a bar. We wound up at The Great Canadian, a pub owned and run by an expatriate Quebecois. The bartender was Pascal, another Quebecois, who was pretty cool, and who suggested another bar for us to hit after dinner.
We had our drinks (wife and I had wine) and returned to Ze Kitchen Galerie. The menu was fish heavy, and I should have ordered fish. The young pork I ordered was fine, wife let me taste her fish, and it was outstanding. We finished dinner and encountered some confusion over the “tip.” I think we got it squared away with the understanding that it was the “service charge” that’s included in the price, and that it goes to the waiter, and that the “tip” is something extra you may wish to give to the waiter, but it is not included in the bill, nor is it required.
Co-worker number two was once again put in charge of finding the pub Pascal had recommended, and he had put us all on the lookout for a place called “The Islander.” Wife and I thought it would and should be on the island of Ile de la Cité, but co-worker number two said no, that Pascal had told him that it was up the Quai and on the left. We went up to rue du Pont Neuf and turned left, but there was nothing called “The Islander” to be found. Co-worker number two's girlfriend kept insisting that we go a little further along the Quai, but co-worker number two was ready to give up. So his girlfriend ran ahead and, within a few seconds, shouted that she had found it. We caught up to her and all had a huge laugh, as the place we had been looking for was The Highlander! Pascal, being a Quebecois said the "H" of "Highlander" like he and all other Quebecois say it: they don't say it!! So it sounded to co-worker number two like "Islander!" And it sucked. It was smoky, and the drinks they served were made with cheap, non-call liquors. Nobody liked the place.
We finished our drinks, so to speak, and headed back to The Great Canadian. Pascal tolerated us well and, upon reluctantly accepting a co-worker's offering of twenty Euro of company money as a tip, lined up a round of shots he called “minus forty windshield washer,” a concoction of booze that included Curacao (sp?) for the blue coloring.
Quebecois expat Pascal prepares to kill us with his crafty concoction. (Photo credit: Farrago)That ended the evening and the Polish co-workers and wife and I left co-worker number two at the pub. Wife and I helped Polish co-worker and family find their way to boulevard Saint Germain and then we directed them along to where they should find the street where their hotel is located. Bed time=1:30am!
dassall! more later!
2 comments:
Yay, Paris! Boo, bossy co-worker!
Tipping is arbitrary in many parts of the world. Once when I was in Greece, I was about to leave the waiter 20%, and my cousins were mortified. "Oh no, it doesn't work that way here," they said. If the service is spectacular, you might leave some token amount, say half a euro.
The guidebooks on Paris all say that most restaurants are "service compris," or service charge added. the waiter receives that service charge. Tipping is accepted for "exceptional" service. My co-workers were driven by our American custom to tip, and it took several mentions by me to make them aware that, in essence, we had already tipped the waiter. They liked him, though, and he did serve us well, so "we" threw in an extra €20, which came to just about €1.10 for each of us there. Seems appropriate.
How did you like Greece?
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