It has been rewarding to me to see how our grandchildren have become experts in the streets surrounding the Grand Hotel St. Michell, navigating Rue Saint-Michel and its hidden alleys as if they had grown up here. They know better than me exactly where to find there favorite crêperies on the corner, shop where Whit gets his daily macaroon and where the closest gelateria is. The way to the closest METRO stations —Saint-Michel and Luxembourg—are second nature to them now, so through those stations all of Paris is at their fingertips. Also they have mastered METRO and train routes through and beneath Paris. They know how to to buy and use the NAVIGO card and how to read the mass transit maps. I asked Whit if he could get to the Eiffel tower on his own. He said he could and I believe him.
Whit's first subway travel
First stop today was Invalides, the home of the Musée de l’armée and Napoleon’s Tomb. I probably tried to give EK&W too much information on the man but who could blame me. I think they were moved by the grandness of the setting, so even if you knew nothing about his history, you’d have to think if they went to this much trouble to bury him, he must have done something. Perhaps they appreciated most the fact that this place was not overly crowded, and welcome cool relief from the 89 degree temperatures outside.
Napoleon's Sarcophagus
Across the Street from Napoleon’s Tomb is the Rodin Museum. Ever since I watched the television series, The Many Loves of Dobbie Gillis (1959-1963) I’ve been a fan of Rodin’s work. That TV series always opened with Dobbie Gillis sitting in front of a copy of that statue. I had no idea that it was a Rodin statue but it was probably that statue and the television series that convinced me that I was going to go to college.
The Thinker
We then took the Metro to the Musée d’Orsay but before going in we found a nearby café. I have been waiting for my chance to order that uniquely French sandwich, the Coque Meisure, French could not just have a ham and cheese sandwich, no their’s need flair. Ham and cheese on delicious toasted French baguette, pressed, then covered with a lacy blanket of béchamel. One bite sent me straight to a buttery heaven - warm Gruyère stretching like a French flag of indigence.
Whit's salmon pasta
A personal victory came at the café, after keeping up with these ever-energetic teenagers in Paris we finally had proof that they were tiring also. After finishing off her hamburger, Katharyne gave it up and fell soundly to sleep right in her restaurant chair. In my book, tiring out a teenager in Paris is a medal worthy feat.
Sleeping in the restaurant
The Musée d'Orsay shimmered with cultural promise, but the reality of high tourist season quickly set in—shoulder-to-shoulder crowds made it nearly impossible to see the art, let alone savor it. Sandy, with her heart set on viewing, and introducing her grandchildren to the Van Goghs on the fourth floor, looked crestfallen. But where crowds threatened to steal a dream, love and quick thinking stepped in.
Elizabeth, calm and resolute, scanned the gallery and picked out the pieces she knew Sandy favored. Elizabeth then sent in Whit, with quiet determination and impressive agility, he gently wove his way through the throng. A moment later, he returned, victorious—crisp photos of Starry Night Over the Rhône and Self-Portrait with a Straw Hat glowing on his phone screen.
No, it wasn’t the same as standing before the real thing, but it was love in action. Artfully delivered, just for her.
Musée d'Orsay is a convrted train station
One more planned stop, the Galleries at Lafayette, remarkable department store with a huge dome dome and every high end fashion name that you can imagine. Elizabeth found some earrings that she purchased and looks fabulous in.
The great atrium of the Galleries Lafayette
We returned to the Latin Quarter, grabbed some street food (crepes) and headed to our hotel to crash.
