We woke up to cloudy skies and cold temperatures so basically a continuation of the last two weeks. Deb spent most of the morning trying to get us reservations and tickets to the museums that we want to visit while we’re here. I think I mentioned that virtually everything was booked up until after the first of the year so we’re trying for after the 1st. She was able to get our tickets and reservations for all venues save one, the Musee d’Orsay. They have an exhibition dedicated to Thomas Sargent that we want to see. Our problem is that they have to be booked online and the website lets us get right up to the point of purchase and then gives us an error message and won’t complete the sale. So after lunch I planned to go over and see if I could purchase them in person.
For lunch we walked down to the brasserie, Chez Prune, via the Canal St. Martin. We were both bundled up pretty good so the walk wasn’t uncomfortable but it was cold. We discovered Chez Prune two years ago when we last stayed in Paris. So when we got this apartment I found that it was reasonably close to us. Today they were again doing a very lively business but they were able to fit us in to a tiny table. As pretty much a rule in Paris if you get a table tor two it’s going to be intimate and today was no exception. My seat was away from the wall so I was subject to all the traffic of the waiters and diners passing by. Generally people are very aware of the tight spaces and really try to avoid jostling their neighbors. The restaurant had a holiday menu today with 3 basic entries, I had a lamb stew with polenta and Deb had the three-cheese raviolis. Along with that we had a small carafe of Minervois, which is a red wine from the southwest of France and is a particular favorite of mine. It was a simple lunch and we very much enjoyed it. After our main course we shared a pear tart, which was just a touch overdone. This is definitely a local hangout, I think perhaps we were the only non-French in the place. It’s also family welcoming as they were serving customers known to the staff that were multi-generational. We finished our lunch and left.
Deb walked back to the apartment while I set out to try to buy tickets. I caught the Metro at Place de la Republic and was able ride directly to Place de la Concorde. This is the dividing square between the Champs Elysees and the Tuileries Gardens. It is also where almost all the executions of the French royalty and nobility took place during the revolution. Now it is home to an Egyptian obelisk looted by Napoleon when he conquered Egypt. You can see how large it is compared to the Eiffel Tower 😄. It is also generally where the final sprint on the final day of the Tour de France begins, so very historic. From there I walked across the Seine to the museum which when I arrived was mobbed by people waiting to buy tickets. It was like the height of summer for cripe sakes. So I went up to a person examining tickets for those who had pre-purchased and asked about onsite purchases. He informed me that the only way to pre-purchase tickets was online and that they only sell tickets for that day in the museum. He suggested calling the museum and having them walk us through the purchase process. I’m afraid that would only lead to very great frustration on our part because the site clearly says they are having technical difficulties and no amount of talking will remedy that. Clearly an unsuccessful hunt.
Following that encounter I recalled that I wanted to check on a heating pad that we thought might be at our favorite store in Paris, BHV. It’s a department store that has almost everything - jewelry, perfume, clothing, kitchen goods, books, a restaurant, and in the basement, a good hardware store. I rooted around looking in every corner and finally asked a clerk. They then went to their floor supervisor and asked if it was something they carried, alas no. On the way home I saw a Monoprix that was even bigger than the one in Nice and had an idea that they might carry something like that too. So I got off the bus and went in to check, I walked all three floors and they had nothing even remotely like that. I think the French would disdain such a pansy American fad as a heating pad. In the end I hunted all around that area and struck out, just a bad hunting day. I refuse to be completely skunked so here is a picture of a mural in a main hall of Gare de l’Est which I am absolutely 100 percent certain will be documented in the archives of the Petit Palais.
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