I had jet lag, and when woken up at 2am after the kids asked for water, could not get back to sleep. I wrote some travel notes sitting at the table in living room by sleeping kids, with the green glow of the Newton display illuminating me. I hoped they wouldn't wake and think me a ghost.
Back to bed around four, managed to fall asleep, woke at 8:30, dozed for a while, rose at nine. After a quick coffee and shower, during which the others got dressed and ready, we were out.
The kids had wanted to see the Eiffel Tower "with Grandpa", so we thought we'd get it over with. We took the metro to La Tour - Maubourg and walked along Rue St. Dominique, stopping in at Patisserie Millet for breakfast -- pains aux chocolat, brioche, chausson aux pommes, all flaky and buttery and very tasty. We ate while walking west, the Eiffel Tower occasionally peeking over the buildings lining the narrow street.
We moved onto the Champs de Mars, with its full view of the Tour, and strolled up in the shade of leafy trees. Z wanted to go up the tower but thought better of it after seeing the lineups, one huge one to get tickets and another huge one for the elevators. People rappelling from the first level on a line offered a slight diversion; it was unclear whether the descent was authorized, but no one was bothering them.
It was almost lunchtime. Though I had had it pegged for a Sunday dinner, it was the best address I knew of in the area, so we walked back to Thoumieux for lunch. The place was quiet, almost completely empty, in contrast to our previous dinner visits. We had a young and inexperienced server, a bit of a welcome change. Another welcome change: we were asked if we wanted non-smoking seating. In general there was much less smoking in restaurants than on previous trips, though the non-smoking section was often just our table with the ashtray taken away.
Three confits de canards, cassoulet aux confit de canard for the kids, a half-bottle of Cahors Carte Noire. A few other parties drifted in but we barely noticed them. The potatoes with garlic that accompanied the confit were a bit tired, but the kids thought everything was fabulous, and their cassoulet was certainly quite good, fresh-tasting and with distinct beans and broth instead of cooked down into a muddy mass. As it was lunchtime, we didn't have to have an appetizer or dessert, which was probably best for our general health.
After lunch, we walked a short distance to the baker Poujauran in rue Jean-Nicot and loaded up (two baguettes for dinner, macarons de cafe for the kids, pain aux noisettes et raisins for breakfast the next morning, and a financier for the hell of it). Then it was down to the rue Cler market; the fromagerie Marie-Anne Cantin was closed (I couldn't find it anyway, having not realized it was just off rue Cler, not directly on it), but I bought some cheese at Fromagerie Cler. After a bookstore diversion, we walked down to ave La-Motte-Piquet and over to the bottom of the Champs de Mars, picking up a carton of juice on the way. We found a bench, had a drink, the kids spotted a playground. I volunteered to run the cheese and bread back to the apartment.
I returned a little less than an hour later (having picked up a Liberation and a Pariscope in a subway kiosque) to find the kids playing happily. Much discussion ensued about where to go -- the threatening clouds had vanished, it was sunny and maybe 26 C, too hot in the sun. Since no one could decide, I suggested the Marais, a safe choice.
We walked down to the La-Motte-Picquet Grenelle metro stop (I picked up wine for dinner along the way) and took line 8 up and over to Bastille, quite a number of stops. The kids took turns standing holding the poles and sitting on the fold-down seats; they never failed to enjoy metro rides, even the hot and crowded ones.
We came out on place de la Bastille; a noisy rally in support of Kurdish leader Ocalan was in progress on the boulevard of Richard-Lenoir. I suggested a snack for the kids, and we went up to the patissier Paul Bugat. They took quite a long time deciding, and we had to veto things like tarte aux framboises while dodging servers and other clients. Finally they chose a tarte citron to eat there (or rather, on the sidewalk outside, and it was only slightly less messy than the raspberry tart would have been), and a miniature tarte Tatin for later, which N carried in its little pyramid of paper for the rest of the day.
Up and across to place des Vosges, quite animated, both the garden in the centre (the playground equipment A had played in as a child of one was discreetly dispersed all over the perimeter, and people were lounging all over the grass, a formerly unusual sight in Paris), and under the arcades. Cafes were thronged with people, and there seemed to be many more shops trying to attract up-and-coming (though still well-heeled) customers, not just the idle rich. Perhaps my previous visit, in the chill of November, had given me an unfair impression.
We walked along rue Francs-Bourgeois, very crowded, though the crowd thinned out to the west. Zuki started flagging; we turned south and meandered towards the Pont-Marie metro stop. Just before arriving at the Quai de l'Hotel de Ville, the kids found a small playground just across from the Hotel des Sens ("Bet you didn't realize you'd see every playground in Paris," I said to K), but were too tired to spend more than a few minutes.
Quick metro ride home. The kids started drawing, K and I went out to stock up on water. The supermarket was quite crowded with people stocking up for the weekend, as there would be no Sunday hours. I dimly remember those days at home.
Dinner was Epoisses Berthaut (a little underripe, but good flavour nonetheless) and Roquefort Papillon on Poujauran baguette, endive salad dressed simply with olive oil and wine vinegar, and a Saumur-Champigny wine from Nicolas. For dessert the kids had their tarte Tatin, we had a third of a financier each (ie a small bite, which given how rich it was, was just as well) and the rest of the Monbazillac, which worked better doing duty purely as a dessert wine.