They also have a pretty Christmas tree is their stained glass-domed atrium. (And strategically placed coffee bars for the husbands to relax in while their wives shop.) Reminds me of the old Marshall Field’s in Chicago.
Paris Metro seating is chic, be it the purple plastic at Opera (I think?) or minimalist acrylic at Louvre-Rivoli.
…and keep the old, even if the friend is on an extended midday pause. Whenever I am in Paris I seek the tonic that is the hallowed, creaky, wooden floors of Julia Child’s favorite kitchen store. But not this time.
Paris without an agenda means there is time to appreciate beautiful scenes.
Place des Vosges
No introduction necessary for this cathedral celebrating its 850th year
A modest man in the Musee Cluny
Along Boulevard Saint Germain
Time spent making a decision is time well spent in Paris, be it for wine or tea.
Eventually, though, one has to make their way home each evening…
Classic restored 18th century building, steps from the Pompidou Center. Literally.
The afternoon light fading, what better way to spend a December evening in Paris than with the half-million other visitors at the Paris Village de Nöel, along the famed L’avenue des Champs- Élysées.
Oh. My. Goodness. If ever Munich’s Oktoberfest, America’s Infomercial Channel, and the Wiener Kristkindlmarkt were to have a love child, it would be the Paris Village de Nöel.
Our walk through the lighted and loud 200+ stalls began pleasantly enough…
As well as a dessert cheese (Saint Marcellin) so luscious I brought one home for breakfast in the morning.
Furry with Flip-Flops.
For a moment I thought Macy’s had opened a store in Montmartre.
Could easily be mistaken for an El station in The Loop.
Hotel de Ville
View from Petit Pont
Chocolates displayed like fine jewelry. As they should be.
The sun still shining, I caught a train to Montmartre, Paris’ 18th arrondissement and home to Sacre Coeur. We’ve seen the Basilica previously, but had not wandered the area much. The walk up the hill was easy given all the vineyard hiking I’ve been doing. Place des Abbesses was quiet; a few people milling about but not much else. A big wine festival had ended the day before I arrived, so perhaps Montmartre residents were at home enjoying the quiet.
I then overheard an English-speaking guide, and followed the voice to a pretty garden and the “I Love You” wall. I took the guide’s word on authority that “I Love You” appears in over 300 different languages.
There was something wonderful about not having a “Top Ten Must See” agenda for my, ahem, fourth visit to my favorite city in the entire world. No crazy itineraries for maximizing the Paris Visite card or calculating the best transit pass options, either. Very unlike me, I know.
Still, it is good to have goals; no sense completely idling away my time. So I let the weather guide me. After le petit dejeuner in the apartment I was out the door to Pere Lachaise. The sun was peeking out occasionally from the clouds (and was an ideal time to play with some of the filters on my camera.) Pere Lachaise is the largest cemetery in Paris, with scores of notable persons buried within. One in particular, fits the theme of the post title and the photos.
My darling husband was waiting on the street level with the welcome kit of wine, cheese, bread, and “secure” chicken (inside joke, always will be). We dined quickly in our charming Saint Germain apartment, Google chatted with the children, and then took advantage of the beautiful evening to indulge in one of the most quintessential Parisian scenes.