From Royal to Red Light

October 15

I lost a strain of the story yesterday. We checked out around 11 and couldn’t get our new room until 3. That’s the time we spent on top of the mountain. I think it’s called the Butte du Montmartre.

My new room is on the same floor, but they upgraded me to a triple. The bathroom is bigger and has more towels.

Today we tried the Metro for the first time. We found a transportation map of Paris that’s easy to follow. The numbers of the trains are marked, for instance.

We took the No. 2 train one stop from Anvers to Pigalle, where we transferred to the 12, which took us to the Place de la Concorde, where the Communist Party of France was preparing a demonstration. There may have been several groups involved. Many demonstrators wore caps and shirts with “FO” on them, but in any event red and white were the colors of the day. Maybe O is a politician: FO!

The Louvre is closed on Tuesday, but the gardens are open every day. These are the Tuileries. This year is the 400th birthday of Andre Le Notre, the landscape designer. As I understand it, he was working under a commission from Catherine de Medici to redesign the palace gardens.

The Tuileries are a park overseen by the Louvre museum. The Champs Elysees were part of the original design, which was intended to look endless.

The gardens are decorated with 18th century neoclassical marbles and also a number of modern pieces, including one large bronze of a fallen tree.

Off to one side, there is a pile of shaped stone, each one with a code number. We got to see what the puzzle would make because nearby there was a completed arch. The carved sections in the pile and in the arch were identical.

I’m glad we got to see the Tuileries. They were all right, but if you need to skip something in Paris, this is a candidate. The flowers are colorful, but compared to Central Park or even the sculpture garden in Seattle, the Tuileries are nothing spectacular. The statues are fine 18th century renderings of ancient themes. the modern stuff is—I dunno—abstract and academic.

The buildings that surround the gardens are another story. Not just the Louvre, but the buildings everywhere are on a grand scale. The river is on one side and on the other bank are the government buildings. The north side of the park is lined with huge apartment houses on the Rue de Rivoli.

Everything is monumental. The Place de la Concorde has an Egyptian obelisk. I thought that Napoleon had stolen it when the Brits chased him out of Egypt, but according to the inscription, it was given to France by Egypt in 1830. Wasn’t Napoleon dead and packed into Les Invalides by then?

Maybe the Egyptians were happy that he wasn’t going to invade them again.

When we left the gardens, the Left was testing the sound system. Why does some guy always grab the mike and count to three? Is he working with somebody who has a hard time hearing him?

This guy added a wrinkle. He made some kind of popping sound. I don’t know whether it was vocal or if he was tapping the microphone. He kept doing it over and over. Maybe he thought it would fix something.

The Champs Elysees continues with a park, but this one is under the jurisdiction of the City of Paris. There is also an embassy row of sorts. Maybe called the street of ambassadors. No flags, so I guess no ambassadors are in residence now. Maybe this is the area that housed the representatives of foreign governments conniving in the French court.

Remember that thing about seeing everybody you know on the Champs Elysees? Maybe it’s “someone you know.” We were walking up the street, when Joanna recognized a couple we had said hello to at the restaurant the night before.

We stopped at a cafe called La Madrigal and shared a club sandwich and a glass of Bordeaux (Chateau de Brague, ’09) at one of the sidewalk tables.

There was a couple sitting inside that caught my eye. Actually it was the guy. It’s funny how you can look at someone and actually believe you know something about him. The guy was dressed and moving just like an actor who wants to portray a stiff: tight gray suit, maroon tie, short hair, dark rimmed glasses, no smile, very straight, and an economy of movement with the knife and fork.

Maybe this guy is a stiff, a focused, no-fooling lawyer, surgeon, or business executive who brought his wife with him on a business trip to Europe. But he could also be the author of some very funny plays in Czech or Albanian. He could be one of the world’s most successful button men, a dozen hits and not one indictment.

Or maybe the lady’s the button man, and he is her very discreet gigolo, trying to look like a stiff.

Life is wonderful. The possibilities are endless.

At the top of the Champs Elysees, we took the underpass to get onto the island with the Arc de Triomphe. We also paused at the Tomb of the Unknown.

The arch was built in the 19th century but is dedicated to the dead of the country’s 20th century wars, too, including its colonial wars in Asia and Africa. It is like Arlington in many ways, although only one veteran is buried at the Arc.

A bronze plaque set into the walk has the text of De Gaulle’s radio speech announcing the formation of the military government in exile and asking French soldiers and officers to rally.

We took the 2 train to Pigalle, and went to see the Moulin Rouge. It was the place where gents went slumming in the old days. It’s now a clip joint where, if you want, you can spend 180 euro for dinner and a floor show that appears to be a cross between a Las Vegas review and the circus. The show and a half of champagne costs less, about 110 euro.

Pigalle is still a red light district. Stores sell DVDs, sex toys, lap dances, and leather lingerie. The Museum of Eroticism is also here.

When we got back to the hotel, the desk handed us a sheet of paper. The electric company, as part of the construction project in the street, will cut all power to the building tomorrow between 8:30 and 12:30. The management recommends coming to breakfast early and taking a shower in the evening.

I took one look at it and spoke American. “Fuck.”

Claude, the manager, who was working on some papers shot his head up. “Is anything wrong?”

I know it’s not his fault, but this place seems to be snake-bitten.

Joanna went for a rest, while I finished yesterday’s log and opened that bottle of Barathym. I went through about half of it, along with a macaron and a few grapes.

We went back to Sacre Coeur for the night view, which is much more interesting than the view by daylight. The lights of the city at night have a generally mild, warm glow.

The gold dome of Les Invalides is still one of the brightest points in the landscape.

We had dinner at L’Aristide on the Rue des Abbesses. We had a salade Nicoise that included anchovies and white rice, along with the usual mix of hard-boiled egg, tuna, greens, and tomatoes. There was also a hint of vanilla in the dressing.

We shared a leg of roast chicken with au gratin potatoes. The place was out of half the wines on its list. We had a Cotes du Rhone Cellier des Ducs, and a Bordeaux on which I have no details.

We decided to get up early in the morning and clear out before the hallways go black.

Right now, I’m sitting with my second cup of coffee at L’Atelier, a cafe a few blocks up Rue d’Orsel from the hotel.

It’s supposed to rain all afternoon, so we plan to spend it in the Louvre.

Be well, all.