A day of averses had long been forecast, and indeed Sunday began with showers as predicted. After sampling a fine hotel petit déjeuner, our heroes suited up for what looked to be a wild and windy day.
Trooping to the Rue Rambuteau metro entrance, their umbrella provided little protection as its shape torqued in retaliation to the driving wind. Glad for the brief respite, they rode the metro to Gare St Lazare—the departure point for tomorrow's Caen adventure.
Overly proud, they successfully navigated the automatic ticketing machine all the way up until the point of paying when Foo discovered it only accepted chip-enabled credit cards. So inside they went, uncertain if a ticket booth would be open on Sunday. But open it was and, bonus: no line! Bobbers brilliantly ordered up his billets aller retour with only one linguistic hiccup. By the time this transaction was finished, so was the rain.
Up the Rue Hausmann toward the Arc d'Triomphe they headed, staying low to skirt the tourist area, they rounded Avenue Foch then down to Place Victor Hugo before vectoring to the Trocadero. Careful to avoid the 500 Senagalese hawkers offering Eiffel Tower key chains, postcards and other detritus, they enjoyed the classic Tour view from afar.
But hunger trumped beautiful views, with Foo harping on and on about déjeuner and pizza. Again skirting the madness of the Champs they ambled their way back towards the hotel via the #1 metro, making their exit at Concorde and walked up Rue de St. Honore in the driving rain.
Foo got her pizza, though she balked at the barely cooked egg in the middle of the pie.
2 comments:
In Rome, a single hawker selling bad quality umbrellas in the rain to those of us tourists on the upper deck of a tour bus kept repeating "Hello." "Hello." Then he'd pause and say, "Hello" a few times. This lasted for the full 5 minutes we sat there while the time passed at a major Piazza , where the driver waited because he was ahead of schedule. Total "Hello's" approx 125. We had our Hotel-issued umbrellas, so we said one polite "Goodbye" as we pulled away. A question...Have you eaten any Moules frites?
Hello! Hello!
Frites yes; moules no.
That's why it's one big Fish Fest when he's out of town. Bob abhors fish in any form for some reason (Giant Clam attack when swimming in the Atlantic as a boy perhaps?)
Bisous to you and Auntie Leta.
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