Lafayette, we are here!

Flight was great – I slept nearly the whole time and Claudia got about 4 hour's slumber (a record!), and though we had a 60 kt headwind nearly all the way, we arrived 15 min early. Surprised the ground crew.

We're staying in a "Guest Apartment Services of Paris" apartment. Just before we left, we received a frantic email from them -- Our agent had "detected" that workmen had "invaded" the apartment above the studio we were renting. RUMOR had it that they were making noise and dust at all hours, occupying the elevator, leaving tools and detritus on the stairwell landing -- "Quel désastre!" Would we be willing to accept, for the same price "naturellement," a 2-bedroom, luxury apartment across the river?

Bien sure!

We got settled in our little palace on the Quai Tournelle and, what else with Claudia on hand, went food shopping! Had a nice wine tasting at a little shop and somehow a lot of my French came back to me. State-induced capabilities? Bought four bottles and headed off to the cheese shop. WOW! Tasted and smelled a lot of thangs that we.do.not.have, even at "Your Dekalb Farmer's Market!" Also bought butter, and man, even that was better than what we had in Brittany several years ago. Then it was off to "Le Bakery Martin," where we picked up some great croissants from the baker's wife, who was distinctly "retro" 50s in appearance. Finally, we  went to Boucherie Gardil, where Monsieur Gardil himself cut 6 slices of bacon for my breakfast this morning. All of these were tiny shops on the Ile de Saint Louis — right out of a Peter Mayle book (or Zola's "The Belly of Paris"). Here's a nice piece from Conde Nast about the Ile de Saint Louis – both figuratively and literally the last island of the La France Vrai: http://www.cntraveler.com/features/2007/07/The-Cradle-of-Paris.

After dropping off our victuals at the palace, we headed for dinner (what else?). Since it was unseasonably cold and damp, we decided it was a good evening for food from the Alsace and so chose Brasserie Ile de St. Louis. Good choice. Claudia had a coq au Riesling and I had a cassoulet, washed down with a Bordeaux of middling price and taste. Stout, working-class stuff in matched atmosphere. We sat at a long table with a couple of pleasant French grandmeres. One has a son who has spent "zees pass fife years in Neeyee-ork Seee-tay! Oh how I luff yee-ore Neeyee-ork Seee-tay! I veesit heem and he comes home to Pay-ree to veesit me!" Ended the meal with a tarte tartin with heavy crème.

So we're living in a place that's about the size of our Decatur home (less the sunroom) with  a bank of four French windows leading out to two verandas overlooking the Seine, right where all the book sellers are on the banks (those are the closed stalls at the bottom of the photo at the top) and across the river some of the oldest and best purveyors of food and wine in the history of the world. My diet plan is working out well. The bottom photo is me looking smug on one of the balconies this morning. Tough going, but the bar & grille at the bottom of the building makes up for a lot…

Well, Claudia is stirring, so it's time to eat those croissants!

More later,

Jeff & Claudia