A long summer weekend in Paris

The day was hot (32 degrees) as the Nissan engine in PC hummed up the last 10 km to port de Paris l’Arsenal. The river traffic caused a bit of a chop on the murkey water although we were not confronted with the number of commercial boats that we had expected and we could allow ourselves to enjoy the passing architectural riches. The river passes the Eiffel tower, (we had to crane our necks to view the enormous "hollow candlestick"), the huge glass roof of the Grand Palais, Place de Concorde, the Musee du Louvre and on the island of la cite, the Notre Dame. The French are wild on bridges and the river was stitched with old and new ones, adorned with gigantic Romanesque statues of semi clad heros, heroines and horses, many with bright gold trimming. The very many homeless in Paris inhabit the archways, cluttering the space with furniture and bric-a-brac to create, in some cases, fairly substantial squats whilst using the river as a toilet. Indeed, one must watch out for human excreta as well as the canine variety in gay Paris whilst walking about.
We locked upward another 5 metres into Arsenal marina, directly in line with the towering column of Place de la Bastille, symbol of the French revolution that started when the people of France stormed the Bastille prison here in 1789. We tied up next to a tidy live-aboard river boat, as instructed, that belonged to a bespectacled, very Frenchman named Philippe. PC was the largest yacht with the mast on the deck so we had to fit along the canal which is actually a thoroughfare to the canal Saint Martin.
Nearly all the marina pens were full. It is bound on one side by gardens and an alfresco bistro/café, with pathways up to the street level, and a high stone wall on the other that many passers-by can gaze over as they walk along Boulevard Bourdon.
On Saturday we walked through the Latin quarter to Montreuil one of Paris’ marches aux puces (flee markets) in search of, as our Lonely Planet describes , "good-quality second hand clothes and designer seconds, engravings, linen" etc. What literal rubbish! It mostly offered new synthetic scarves, sweat shirts, and cheap sunnies and grubby second hand spanners. It wasn’t a patch on Melville markets back home. I purchased a new tie-died hat for 4 Euro that Nick described as vomit. Perhaps I’ll paint it. Nick’s lack of enthusiasm for going in the first place was vindicated. That evening we invited a English couple on board for a beer. John and Lucy are about our age and had traversed France from the Mediterranean on a 28 foot sloop after sailing for 2 seasons on the Med. Had a good laugh mostly about the ‘don’ts’ such as eating a cold can of tripe stew whilst your mate is comatose with sea sickness if you want to maintain happy relations on board.
We hope everyone had a good Sunday 27 August. Ours was delightful. We slept in (very unusual for Nick but he’s improving) then went for an aimless stroll around the Seine, circling the masterpiece of gothoic art, the Notre Dame and taking in the bouquinisters (book stalls) perched along the quays. Its so cool how the French use the street lamps to hang up pot plants which, at present, are all spilling over with bright colorful flowers. And how most the streets, apart from the crippled narrow lanes are shaded by rows of uniformly large deciduous trees. The cafes’ red awnings over clusters of elegant chairs and tiny round tables are conspicuous on the street corners. We watched a few street perfomers at the Centre Pompidou: Tuvan singers, portrait artists, an accordion player, marionette puppet and a very flexible French girl who could climb inside a suitcase and make it dance.
At about 1930 hrs (to early to be hip), we walked a short distance to Chez Paul for dinner. This French restaurant came with a recommendation from Sas – we were lucky to get in and particularly lucky to get a table on the terrace as it was soon very crowded. And Oh my, the food! Rabbit pate, lump of exceedingly tender beef and, for desert, a macaroon burger filled with stewed rhubarb and fresh raspberries with a thin custard sauce. Nick had Sole, Sardines and Sorbet.
After dinner we caught the metropolitan to the red light strip of Pigalle to see the latest Cabaret at the Moulin Rouge (red mill). We had to queue for about an hour but forgot all about that annoyance once we were ushered under the massive chandelier to our table and poured a glass of Champagne. The cabaret lounge is suitably dim, and the tiers are jammed packed with tables covered in white cloths and cute little red lamps. French waiters rushed about trying to seat everyone before the lights fell. The show was so much more than we imagined, with amazing set changes, choreography, acrobatics and constant smiles(~2 finger widths). It was 2 hours of diamantes, frills and feathers that left everyone in the house grinning as they spilled back onto the street at 0100 hours. The taxi drive home past the Arc de Triomphe and down the majestic Champs-Elysees was awesome too.
During our last full day in Paris we visited the Louvre. This is the largest museum in the world. Its foundations are the remains of a 12th century feudal castle, preserved on the ground floor and visible from a walkway built through the ancient mote. To make the most of the collection in the Louvre we decided to accompany a guide around the major works of interest but found the tour fully booked when we arrived. Striking out on our own we went directly to La Joconde (the Mona Lisa, 1504). I find the interest in this DeVinci quite intriguing. It is not as large as I remembered it to be, its dark and blurry, she is not overly attractive, nor noble and appears to be wearing a toupee due to a strange line around her hairline (help me if you know what this is????). Nick and I were particularly impressed by the 16th and 17th century Dutch paintings, the ancient Greek glassblowing, the French crown jewels and Napoleon’s apartments. However, after three hours I began to overload and degenerated from the discerning aficionado to one of those nasty Aussies abroad joking about the embalmed fragment of Caesar’s foreskin in room 246. Nick was appreciating the mechanics of the unusual pedestal lift in the foyer. Time to go!
We left Arsenal marina at about lunch time on Tuesday 30 August, well aware that we had by no means seen everything that we would like to in Paris but that we have many miles to travel and cant settle anywhere for long. We missed the Pixies by one day and the White Stripes by a couple of weeks, drat.