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For THE FREE LANCE-STAR
QUICK DECISION to spend Christmas week in Paris was one of the best spur-of-the-moment travel whims I've indulged in for some time.
Our hotel, Le Jardin de Cluny, a Best Western property, was perfectly located in the heart of the Latin Quarter on the left bank, and we quickly found our way to the Seine, a couple of blocks away, and across the footbridge to Notre Dame Cathedral.
I never cease to marvel at the architectural magnificence of that building. It was Christmas Day and the square was alive with people with happy faces, boasting a multitude of languages and accents that made me realize the worldwide breadth of French colonization.
Inside, the sense of awe and wonderment the cathedral evokes was enhanced by the large number of votive candles whose warmth reached beyond the glowing ring of light they generated. The touchingly lovely crèche, in that amazing structure, reflected a depth of devotion deeply intensified by the setting.
Distances to and from Paris are measured from this point and if it actually is not the architectural and historical center of the city, it's close enough, for me.
To make the best of our time and resources, we learned we could purchase a museums-and-monuments pass that would offer not only reduced admission prices, but also get us in ahead of the (often very, very long) lines awaiting entry at more than 65 of the city's sites.
In addition, we got tickets for the hop-on, hop-off bus system that cruised either to or very near many of the famous historic and cultural sites. The system also offers commentary both in French and English.
Tickets may be purchased for two-, three- or five-day spans at visitors centers or on the bus.
Detailed maps helped us plan our itinerary, and we worked all the way down our combined, and mostly agreed upon, must-see list.
My traveling companion and I found, however, that the neighborhood around our hotel alone would have kept us busy exploring for days. That is mostly because we could have been lost for at least that long, since neither of us had an innate sense of direction and were quickly confused by the tiny streets--some just two or three blocks long--running in curves and at odd angles. They also conspire to change their names frequently.
Since the Sorbonne was just around the corner, it was easy to imagine them having been the paths for robed students and religious figures, as well as oxcarts or horse-drawn vehicles. In fact, just a couple of blocks down Sommerard Street, where our hotel was, we found the Musee National du Moyen Age, or National Museum of the Middle Ages.
This museum is in what was originally the 13th-century residence of the Abbotts of Cluny, an order of Benedictine monks begun in Burgundy in the ninth century. It presents flamboyant Gothic architecture at its best--or worst, depending on your point of view--and an amazing collection, begun by Alexandre Du Sommerard and established in the museum in 1843.
The collection features the world-famous "Lady and the Unicorn" tapestries that depict the five senses and the legend of the unicorn. It also includes sculpture and precious metal that personify medieval society in Europe.
The replanted herb and vegetable garden is part of the property. Whether by design or accident, the building was constructed over the now-visible remnants of the city's earliest Roman bath that contains the "Boatmen's Pillar," Paris's oldest sculpture, in the basement.
Generally speaking, the museums are not generous with the amount of label copy we are accustomed to. But still, who needs a label to have the thrill of recognition when viewing van Gogh's self-portrait, the "Mona Lisa" or "Victory of Samothrace"?
The French are masters at making the exhibit space as stunning as the art itself and of course the Louvre is the prime example. But the Musee d'Orsay was interesting because it was constructed in 1900 and served as a train station until it became too small for mainline travel. Its giant clocks unabashedly testify to its original intent.
The Musee d'Orsay specializes in impressionist and postimpressionist paintings (1848-1914), everything from van Gogh to Toulouse-Lautrec, so many favorites are on view. We had an efficiently served and tasty lunch there, and I sat facing one of the clocks and watched the elegantly styled minute hand tick around the dial.
We were not disappointed in the various restaurant menus we were offered, all of them either in English or with subtitles. One of my favorite meals was a late lunch at Pizza Vesuvio, a restaurant just off the Champs de Elysees, where I enjoyed a favorite entree of moules and frites. The tasty fries were fresh, not greasy, and the mussels were smaller than usual, perfectly cooked and in the most heavenly broth. I asked the proprieter what was in it but he said he didn't know and, with a small Gallic shrug, "but the chef has gone."
I just loved it, and without a spoon, slurped it sneakily from mussel shells! That generous serving, along with a bowl of perfect onion soup and crusty bread came to 15 euros, which seems to be a fairly standard price for food, whether it is a full meal in a restaurant with linen napkins, or tea and crêpes, snuggled up to a heater in a sidewalk cafe.
A nice sense of humor was displayed when one of our waiters told me I spoke very good English, and laughed, fortunately, when I told him he could use a little more practice with French.
The restaurants around our hotel were an international mixture offering food from such exotic places as Thailand, Vietnam, Tibet, Laos and China as well as Italian and Greek. We also found excellent patisseries and a cheese shop with an amazing number of choices.
(Incidentally, when traveling in The Netherlands last spring, someone gave me welcome advice about handling the many denominations of Euro coins. They all will fit in a film canister, making them easy to find and spill out into your hand so you tend to use them up instead of handing over a paper bill and getting back even more coins to weight your pocket or purse.)
We found everyone to be very friendly and courteous, and once two women who noticed our directional floundering stopped and offered to give us assistance.
Another time, when we decided to taxi home, we spoke to a woman cab driver who was sitting behind the wheel, reading a book. She waved us in to the back seat, and when we didn't leave immediately, we peeked over her shoulder and realized she was still reading. She got to the end of the chapter, closed the book, and started the car.
Most evenings we found ourselves heading toward Rue de la Huchette, a tiny pedestrian-only street, that was alive with shops, restaurants with beautiful displays of food in the windows, the tiniest theater in Paris, and a happy crowd of people of all ages.
Altogether, there was a noticeable lack of cell phones, not as much smoking as I had anticipated, and several groups of American students enjoying Christmas break in Paris. A practice to be highly recommended, no matter at what age.
