Since we (they) couldn't climb the tower we walked over to the Musee d'Orsay, which I like but which Adam Gopnick accuses of pandering to dilettantes. He's one of the more recent of the long string of exceptional writer/reporters the New Yorker has had working in Paris since its inception way back when, starting with Janet Flanner and including Mavis Gallant (Paris Stories). Gopnick wrote "Paris to the Moon", which I believe panders to New Yorker readers. The museum is in a gorgeously refurbished train station from the golden age of steam. It's only been around since the '80s (remember them?) and is a temple of Impressionism.
This is the southern end of the Rue Mouffetard market, which we were fortunate enough to stumble upon (those cobblestones can get pretty slippery!) right down the block from our hotel. It extends up the pedestrian-only street to the Place Contrescarpe at the top of the hill and includes a wide variety of shops and many restaurants, so we didn't have to go far to find decent food at a reasonable price. Which was just as well because by dinner time we had had enough walking for the day and were quite happy to ooze on down the hill to our beds. So we had a chance to sample four different places. Oh, and lest I forget, there is, if I can bring myself to mention it, a Starbucks in the neighborhood. And, I blush to admit it but, yes, we did go there, but only once, and only because the little dining room at the hotel was full to capacity for breakfast one morning. Mike chose what he thought was a pre-made bagel with cream cheese but, to his surprise, it turned out to be a bagel with smoked salmon and tzatziki. C'est la vie, mon ami!
No comments:
Post a Comment