Lundi, Lundi  

Ton bien a moi...

Monday dawned damp and cold. The promised weather had arrived. No matter, we set out bravely to visit museums and parks. First up was Musee de l'Orangerie,

...the museum chosen and arranged by Claude Monet to showcase his “testamentary” masterpieces as “Unique in its genre”. Next to the Nymphéas, “the haven of peaceful meditation”, a gift to modern man with his “overworked nerves”, the Orangerie offers a fabulous concentration of masterpieces from the Jean Walter and Paul Guillaume Collection, a highly original insight into modern art featuring Cézanne, Renoir, Picasso, Rousseau, Matisse, Derain, Modigliani, Soutine, Utrillo and Laurencin...

As the quotation says, there is a lot of art here, and much of it good (to my taste, anyway). BUT, the centerpieces are the huge garden studies Monet produced. The canvasses run all the way around two oval rooms. The setting was built for the art, and the art was painted for the setting - a first, according to Rick Steves. We're not allowed to photograph them, but here is a very neat website that allows a virtual 3-D walk-through:

 http://www.musee-orangerie.fr/panoramiques/plein_ecran_salle1.html















Pretty neat, huh? But the stuff outside was a little less je ne c'est quoi...

This sculpture records the reaction from the first fateful utterance of a husband saying, "Why yes dear, that toga does sort of make you look fat."

"Help! I've fallen and can't get up!" Oh the pathos!

Even the king had problems with kitty hairballs.

We spent a good deal of time wandering through the Tuileries, the Concierge, Saint-Chapelle, and the inside of Notre Dame, then headed home to clean up before dinner. Here's what the hacienda looks like; photo taken from a parapet on the Pont de la Tournelle:

We are four stories up from the red awning (one under the very top story). Here we are enjoying a little aperatif on the balcony before going out for dinner:

We went to Le Petit Pointoise, a neighborhood bistro that was recommended by the apartment service and others. It was fairly small, like most of these places, and "authentique." I had an excellent blue shrimp appetizer and Claudia had white asparagus. For dinner, she had filet of beef that was great, but a little underdone for her. I ate most of it:

I had quail and grapes, which was a surprisingly good combination:

Weird coincidence: The Italian gent we sat next to last night came in to eat here, too, and sat right behind me!

We also learned something about running a restaurant in Paris. Many times we'd seen other diners leave quite a bit of wine in their bottles (we, of course, never did this!) and wondered what happened to the half-full bottles and how the customers were charged. The waitress at Le Petit Pointoise was very approachable, so we asked her about these mysteries. Turns out that it's a very Parisian thing to do - just drink what you want of the bottle. The restaurant charges you only for what you drank, then saves the bottle for customers who later order wine "by the glass." 

Now think about this. Since there is generally just one seating per night, that open bottle of wine sits around for at least a whole day before it's used to pour single glasses. Because I was sitting with a view into the kitchen and bar, and now armed with this knowledge, we in fact got to see this in action. A group that arrived well after us ordered a round of single champagnes. Around the corner, out of sight of the rest of the patrons, the waitress set out four flutes, poured into each a bit of champagne from a previously-opened bottle, emptying that bottle, then popped the cork from a new bottle and filled the remainder of each flute with fresh champagne. The customers didn't know the difference, and may have even thought that the champagne was more "subtle," smoother and with less harsh carbonation than normal - mais oui!

Moral of the story: Never order by the glass!!