Aja Lee

Blog Schmog

The rain was over and we took breakfast in the converted wine celler of the hotel de fleurie before heading out to the musee d' orsay! I put an exclamation mark because although the louvre is beyond impressive, i am in love with impressionistic art, all of its types and evolutions and was so excited to finally see al of them upclose .

Of course the orsay itself is amazing, inside of the old train station in paris, but the aire inside is amazing, it just feels like it is full of people who love art, the louvre has a sort of disneyland feel with people clamoring around you with selfie sticks, queing up to take a million pictures of the mona lisa for a tiny glass covered exposed picture with what they will do with later i do not know.
The orsay is so peacful and laid out in such a wonderful way, there is no crowded feeling and everyone flows to and from the rooms, the audio guide is a must if you love art or history:)
You can see the paintings right up close!! Every brush stroke, color daub, whether the artist used a dry brush, whether he painted to the edge and trimmed or left the edges bare in the case of the water lilies by monet, the blue dancers, a portraint of monet by renoir, le tours lifelike impressionism steals your attention, vangoughs self portrait in brilliant yellows and pinks, the neo impressionists tiny to large daubs of isolated color choices,oh the sheer glory of it all!
We digressed to the outside stairs to have a passion fruit i saved from the morning market and make our way to lunch, the effiel tower on our minds.
I am not a fan of heights, so it was with reluctance that i got tickets for the top "summet" with stefano, who would like to climb to the top lf every highest peak and clock tower no matter where we go, unlike him i would like to stay at the bottom and have another rosé, maybe write or record, think about how many kinds of chocolate there are in the world and other important things, but as travel companions go stefano is always generous with my suggestions so it seems only fair to acquiesce and i made the line and the ascent. I am so glad i did as it is facinatimg to see the engineering inside, the weight and pully hydrolic system catridges as large as one of those "tiny houses" in bright yellow moving up and down slowly, to get the tippy top you actually have to, to my utter dismay, get out at 2/5th of the way up, get out (no thank you!) take another seperate smaller car, and then make your way to the tip, all of which require line after line after line.
The view made my hands cold sweat, but it was worth it, just about as high as the umpire state building but the difference being its a tiny metal cagelike structure not a solid brick building and to my limited amount of architechtural knowledge it just made me feel as we ascended thru the clouds onto a windy bendy layer of scaffolding, BUT! Did you know they serve champage at the top! My dear friend brittany had told me about it and its true! If you go outside on the edge and up one more flight of stairs to the very very top(yes suddenly i would brave the worst part of it all for some bubbly, edging around on the smallest tallest little outdoor balcony there is a man serving champagne, and in different types!
This made it all worth it and the ascent was lovely, glad i had done something i wouldnt normally but ready to receive the precious terre.
The large lawns in front of the Eiffel are full of every type of person, a group of friends on a blanket sprawled out with a giant hookah, children playing at dusk, music coming from the waiting rickshaws, a million languages, and the one place possibly in the world where the litter consists of not beer, but discarded champagne bottles, strewn about like it was new years eve at times square.
We got some velibs, a lovely mode of public bike system where you can electronically check them out at different stations around the city, and peddled our way throught the streets of france at dusk.
Weaving our way through the parisian traffic is so much fun, up and down old sidewalks, everyone was mostly congregating for dinner at this hour so we had some freedom in the streets, there is usually a lane for bikes, unfortunately the bike lane is also marked to share with hastily driven cabs and goliath busses, but it seemed they were no where to be found and we glided happily thru the evening with our little pedal powered lights.
Down the siene, weaving thru the nightlife at the rivers edge, it was fascinating to watch as we coasted by, happy to see and even happier to not be in it. My thoughts on more of a long, wine induced, fine french dinner. My list of culinary items had not yet been matched.
The air in france is nice and the bikes were a godsend, we had traveled quite far and our phones thus maps and addresses, were all quite dead.
Home at last we prepared to find somewhere amazing to dine, and at 1030 pm on a friday in paris, this is actually still feasable (did i mention how i love europe?)
We headed for cezzanne which was tricky to locate and down a secret dark corridor, a lone parisian pointed us along, but alas their dinner was thru being served and we trunched on, no longer with energy and desperate to find better food than our earlier "emergency" lunch by the eiffel.
And then we stumbled on Precope.
The first night i had actually researched and picked this brassiere, but stefano was not in the mood for snails that night and we forwent our excursion for safer ground.
But let me say, le precope was a paris dining dream come true.
It is the oldest consecutive operating restraunt in paris since 1862.
It is medium small with a grandious feel, deep red walls and gilded blue celings, velvet roped chandeleirs, paintings of the famous patrons who used to go there in the 18th and 19h century.
Waiters in full tux, silver heavy in your hand, and beautiful creative takes on the innevitable daunting french menu.
Charlotte potatoes, herts vericots crispy and green, cold lobster, fresh garden parsley, pink grapfruit, hearts of lettuce, bordeoux, oven roasted large shallots with buttery insides, and lemon merengue in a very large flute, little bits of french merenge atop sour lemon sorbetto layers of the "crust" that must have been pure butter cumbles, and lemon custard that brought a tear to my eye, that i proudly ate in its entirety as my travel companion so *sadly seemed to be full.

*the statements and sarcasms of this blog are subject to the writer and are not meant to offend anyone including said travel companion.

 

 Above the Musee D'Orsay and below the Jardin Luxemburg

 

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