Bercy Village

We went to Bercy Village by bus today.  Our apartment is on the western side of the Left Bank, very near the Eiffel Tower, but Bercy Village, old wine warehouses converted into shops, cafes and restaurants, is on the eastern side of the Right Bank.  We love just looking out into the city traveling by bus.  Haven't been on the Metro once this visit.

Coming back, we ended up in the Paris suburbs and had to double back.  We had gotten on the #87, which goes back to our apartment, but somehow ended up on the #24.  How that happened is beyond us, as we'd been waiting at the stop for some time, wondering if the #87 had quit running for the night, when along it came.  We both saw "87" on the front window and got on.

After about 40 minutes, we realized the bus had somehow changed to the opposite direction and we were bypassing Bercy Village, from where we had just left!  Questioning what had happened and trying to figure out where we were, we were overheard by a young French girl who asked if she could help.  (This isn't the first time either Americans or French have helped us out without us even having to ask!)  She actually got off the bus with us and walked us to the spot to catch a reverse #24 back to Gare de Lyon and pick up another #87 there.

Linda thinks the bus changed routes when we were sitting at a station for some fifteen minutes.  I don't even remember sitting at a station for fifteen minutes.

I think we briefly traveled within the Twilight Zone.

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Finally settled on the right return bus.

Diner:  Breakfast in America

(I really need to check this out to see if they've got it right.  And if you aren't enlarging the photos, you just aren't seeing all the great details.  World of difference!)

A line of week night movie-goers.

And everywhere, everywhere cafes and restaurants with outside tables, patrons people-watching, waiters not hurrying them to finish.  One of the things I love most about Paris.

Ok, haven't figured out this sculpture yet.

Say no more.  Paris.  Cheese, wine, chocolate.

And the bus behind us.  La fin.

Musee d'Orsay

Sad to say I was disappointed.

The slides I'd seen back in my college art classes were just as good as seeing most of them in person. Most are covered with protective glass, which diminishes the up-close-and-personal experience of the paint textures and brush strokes.

So much so that I actually skipped the Louvre.  I already knew the Mona Lisa was very small, and so many guide books showed just how far away you were only allowed to go up to it -- add that to the crowds that seem never to be gone from it  -- and I felt I didn't need to see it.   Did a lot of research on other stuff there and to be honest (oh my uncultured self) was not interested enough to endure the crowds and knee pain of all the walking.

And I am not about to see something or go somewhere just to say I have done it.  What a waste of time that is.

But here are some of my favorite paintings, works of art, and other miscellaneous fun stuff from the visit.  And the old salvaged train terminal itself which is now the Musee d'Orsay was very cool!

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(Skipped the lines by having acquired the Paris Museum Pass beforehand.)

This one is an adultress, hands bound, crouching in fear.  Oh sure, it's always the woman that gets blamed.

Part of the interior.

The famous clock window.

Looking across the Seine at Montemarte.

Or just taking a break.  (These last three, I think, are my favorites.)

Relaxing Rainy Morn

Longer stays in a house or an apartment is quickly becoming my favorite way to travel.  No hurry to run out and sightsee before "time's up."  Can still eat relatively healthy and inexpensively by doing some cooking in.  More space.

And more of a feeling of living here, rather than of just being a tourist.

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Think I'll go Musee l'Orangerie to see Monet's Water Lillies and then to the Pagode down the block to see the movie, Youth with Michael Caine, Harvey Keitel and Rachel Weisz.  If it isn't raining after that, maybe stroll along the Seine.

End of the Day

After a long day of shopping and eating out, we return to our little (well, not so little) apartment.

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Elevator on right.

Stairwell to our fourth floor (looking back down.)  We are the only apartment on the floor.

Home.

Dinner.  A French omelet.  

Because I made it with French eggs, French cheese, and French mushrooms.

 In France.

Le Grand Epiceree Au Bon Marche

Taking photos inside Le Grand Epiceree (Paris' most exquisite gourmet grocery) is forbidden.  (But where there's a will, there's a way.)

(Click photos to enlarge.)

Right now there is a big exhibit throughout the store entitled "Brooklyn."  Never having been to Brooklyn, I don't know if these items are representative of it or not.

Salt water taffy and ginger ales.

Caramel popcorn.

Samples of usual items in the store follow:

Traditional French quiche is to die for!

The cheeses are amazing.  Dozens and dozens and dozens of them!  (Just skip the stinky soft ones.)

You get your produce weighed here but pay in the cashier line.  French strawberries are better than in the U.S.  

Lots of interesting coffee selections.  I got Marley -- yep, Jamaican man.

And chocolate.  Lots of it.  More than just this section.