We were up early, eager to make the most of our last full day in Paris. We had only a short walk to the Metro, but got side-tracked when we realised that many of the tiny shops along the street behind our hotel sold fur and leather goods. No customers were in evidence but it was too early for French shoppers. I couldn’t resist closer inspection, so we pushed open a few doors and wandered around, but soon discovered that they were all wholesale distributors. Nothing was marked, of course, and when I asked for the price of a divinely way-out feathered hat (a couple of hat wholesalers there too) we nearly choked and made a quick exit.
Consequently, our arrival at the Musee Marmottan, a longer journey on the underground than I anticipated, meant that we had a long wait in the queue. Standing in the rain for two hours was not part of my plan–on a previous visit this museum was still a hidden treasure and I’d gone straight in. When we eventually reached the ticket office we were confronted by a grumpy woman who refused to smile, or to excuse my poor attempts at French.
Despite the less than delightful start, we wandered around, entranced by Monet’s superb paintings. I had difficulty locating the gallery with the large waterlilly scenes, which I remembered as making me feel that I could walk right into the lake and pick the flowers. As this is a privately owned gallery, the staff did not feel obliged to attempt to understand or respond to my request for English directions, but with lots of smiles. ‘S’il vous plaits’ and attempts at describing the gallery I wanted, we retraced our steps and eventually stumbled on the right room. No photos permitted, of course.
We were about to leave when, near the entrance, I noticed a crowd heading towards another section of the building. The family who own the gallery had evidently purchased hundreds of works by other Impressionists, many of them below the standard of those found in the Jeu de Paume, (which we had hoped to visit) but with time running out, we made the most of our current situation. This was Sue’s only chance to view examples of work by most of the well known Impressionists. Again, unlike the government galleries, I couldn’t find any English guides to the works or the artists and with such a large crowd of viewers we had to push and shove to catch glimpses of the paintings.It was a bit disappointing, but we were really saturated with Monet, and knowing that his garden and house were on our agenda during the coming cruise, we left happy–and at about 2.30pm, very hungry.
Finding a good lunch seemed unlikely, but near the station we passed a classy looking establishment, apparently closed. We tried the front door and walked into a large space with polished timber and brass everywhere and a bar area off to the side. A delightful young lady assured us that lunch was still available downstairs.
We were in for a surprise. The photo doesn’t do justice to this establishment inside what had been a railway station – a roof made of metal bars surrounding large panes of glass to create a light filled space decorated in typical Parisian style with immaculate white linen, elegant but comfortable chairs, and lots of sparkling crystal.
Business men in suits and ties occupied most of the tables, so I wondered if our comfortable sneakers and casual clothes would be accepted. We rearranged our scarves, smiled hopefully and I spoke in my best French.
‘But of course, Madam,’ the maitre de assured us, and we were directed to an empty table, where we enjoyed a superb meal. Duck foie gras. to die for, was my choice for starter. Sue had a taste, but, lucky for me, she wasn’t enraptured as I always am with the real thing. Fish and chips might sound ordinary, but my sister’s smile told me that her choice was perfect. I had a crab and egg concoction, delicious, but nothing could compare with that foie gras. Even the bread, spread with such very yellow butter, melted in our mouths. To compliment the food I had two glasses of Chablis, my favourite wine in all the world. I think my face in the photo, tells it all.
It was ridiculously expensive, but when in Paris , , , ,
We were the last people to leave the restaurant and the rush hour had started when we got back to the Metro. We hadn’t done much, but we returned to our hotel with some wonderful memories. I was a little disappointed that we didn’t see more of what Paris has to offer, but we didn’t want to exhaust ourselves, when we knew there was so much more to come once we joined our river cruise the next day.