Flush with our newly loaded travel cards we decided that today was a good time for a self-guided bus tour. It was a lovely day with a blue sky and sun, but still quite a chill in the air. L had found a suggested route on-line which involved several changes and took in quite a few parts that it would be fun to watch from on high. We did not fancy a tourist or open-top bus, we thought it would be more fun to travel with the ‘locals’, listening to their conversations and soaking up the atmosphere!
Incidentally, we both feel that Paris bus drivers are the best in the world: they always watch out for their passengers, wait until you are seated before starting off, will stop the bus in between stops both for you to mount and dismount and generally take a pride in their work:)
So we began by taking Bus 69 from Bastille, round the corner from our flat, to the end of the line at Champs de Mars. This route goes past Rue de Rivoli, Hotel de Ville, Palais Royale, through the narrow gateway into the Louvre, crosses the Seine on the Pont Royale
goes along beside the Seine,
past the Musee d’Orsay, through the Place des Invalides,
and into the Champ de Mars.
There we got off the bus and walked past the Eiffel Tower,
back to the Seine, to catch the next bus which was going towards Neuilly-Hopital, getting off at Porte Maillot.
However, after a few stops we realised that we had got on one going the wrong way, to the Luxembourg gardens in fact. Just as we decided to get off the bus and go back to the beginning of this new line to get the correct bus, I saw an interesting looking restaurant out of the window at Montparnasse:
so we decided to get off here to eat and decide our strategy over lunch – whether to change our plans and go to the Luxembourg gardens rather than finish our bus tour or to stay with our original plan.
There was the external covered area where smokers and people who only wanted a coffee or drink sat: then, as we walked in we were blown away by the main restaurant:
we had walked back 116 years in time: silver, crystal, damask cloths and knapkins, waiters in morning suits etc. This was a lovely Art Nouveau restaurant.
We had an extremely friendly welcome and were offered our choice of seating: we decided on the lighter, brighter ante-chamber
which was full of people sitting on the benches (I took these photos later after they had left).
(This photo of Le Montparnasse 1900 is courtesy of TripAdvisor)
How to describe the experience?
Well, it was one of those unexpected, golden moments that serendipity sometimes throws at one.
Everyone around us was French and not much English was spoken, but we were made to feel so very welcome:) Friendly waiters. Friendly people eating around us. They chatted to us, we chatted to them. Sitting around a corner all on bench seats probably helped the interactions! One man was Swedish, married to a French woman who wanted him to show off his English and to practice it while he had an opportunity. They spend all of their holidays at his summer house back in the South of Sweden, but live here in Paris. I mentioned that my mother was part Swedish and that we had lived in France for a while when I was very young. At the end of the meal they got up to leave, so we got up too to shake their hands: the wife kissed me affectionately several times, and said that we are all one world, one people. At another table there were people who I asked for advice on tipping in restaurants in Paris: I apologised for disturbing them and they charmingly said that it was no disturbance and that they were delighted to be able to help. I know that most people are like this, but I never will understand why so many people I meet in the UK seem to think that French people are surly and unhelpful
L had duck for her lunch, but I ate a simply cooked piece of beef with some new potatoes and a superb gravy. We both tried the dessert on which the Restaurant prides itself, the Isles Flotantes.
According to wikipedia:” this is a European dessert of French origin, a dessert consisting of poached meringue floating on crème anglaise which is prepared with the egg yolks, vanilla, and hot milk, often flavoured with vanilla and briefly cooked. It is a light pouring custard used as a dessert cream or sauce. It is thought to have origins evolving from ancient Romans who used eggs as thickeners to create custards and creams. Its name may derive from the prevalence of sweet custards in English desserts.“
) Photo from Wikipedia.
On discussion we decided that the weather was cool enough, and by then becoming rather overcast, that we would continue on with our bus tour rather than spend the afternoon in the Luxembourg gardens. So, feeling rather full, we left to catch the bus back to the Eiffel Tower and then get on a bus going in the right direction. This we did, and set off once more for Porte Maillot where the directions told us to disembark. We found this to be a very busy interchange on the Paris Ring Road, and we sat in a bus shelter for some time waiting for our next bus. It was not really a pedestrian type of place: the roads were four lanes in each direction, and we felt uncomfortable. We did get rather a searching and odd look from two policemen on motor bikes as they zoomed past, but no other reaction. Finally our bus came and we set off on the next leg of the journey.
This bus went round the Arc de Triomphe and all down the Champs Elysees which is a street that has no appeal for me at all. L mentioned how she drove a car full of people round the Arc de Triomphe some years ago and how frightening it had been: I mentioned that my mother used to tell me how she rode her bicycle round it with me sitting in a child seat on the back!
Following instructions, we got off at the bottom at Rond Point Champs Elysees, where there is a sizable roundabout, and walked round and round trying to find our next bus stop. We have found in the past that getting off a bus in one direction is no guarantee whatsoever that the return bus going in the other direction will have a stop nearby. Returning to our original bus stop to look at a map we were stopped by a very large, concerned man who tried to turn me round: L immediately expected some kind of scam or pick pocket attempt so she grabbed me by the other arm and hurried me away!! However it turned out that all he had been trying to do was alert me to the fact that a very large and incontinent bird had shat all over one shoulder, down the shoulder blade and onto the skirt of my coat. Bright yellowy-green and dripping:(
We tried to mop me up as much as possible and then set off once again to look for our bus stop: L’s reading of the map differed completely from mine, so after yet another circle of the roundabout, we decided to follow my understanding! However, at this point we saw the number of the bus we wanted, and followed it to a stop, nowhere near where either of us would have gone!! Of course it had gone by then, but we waited and finally caught the correct one, going in the correct direction. On boarding the bus I was aware of concerned stares from other passengers, and a lady who came to sit next to me suddenly veered away from me in horror: I tried to explain what had happened and then there were smiles and sympathetic grins from all around me, although I took care to keep well away from the back of the seat and to warn any other passengers who came to sit near me about what had happened to my coat. It was fascinating how much consternation this caused people.
This route took us past the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais, through the Place de la Concorde, up Rue Royale to the Madeleine and on to Opera. We were feeling tired by now and rather shaken up by all the bumping over cobbled roads, often at speed. At the Opera we got off to change yet again by walking down the Ave de l’Opera and crossing over onto the Rue de Quatre Septembre where we took the 29 bus in the direction Gare du Lyons (different from our directions) which passed the Bourse, Place des Victoires, Centre Pompidou and back into the Marais. Here we drove along some very narrow streets passing along Rue Etienne Marcel where I saw both a Bistro Engrenage and the headquarters of the 3rd Arrondisement Police, close together. Now, was this accidental, or did it have something to do with the series I mentioned before, ‘Engrenages’? It was very exciting. Two plain clothes detectives were standing smoking and talking outside the police headquarters. Just like on the TV!
It was comforting to pass the Musees Cognacq Jay, Picasso and Carnavalet and to feel so at home once more. We decided to get off at the Place des Vosges and walk home to stretch our legs after all that sitting: we fell, shattered, into our flat at 5.0 pm having left at 10.30 am. But we had had a good look at Paris, a wonderful experience at lunch time, and an all round adventure!
I cleaned up my coat in the shower: thank goodness it was wool, which behaved perfectly. After some tea we confirmed how we wanted to spend Easter Sunday and which outings we felt we wanted to go on. We booked Easter lunch, tickets for Chantilly Chateau and the Equestrian Performance with a tour of the Grand Stables and both fell on our respective beds to write emails, surf the web, and catch up on note writing. (NB booking those tickets took a couple of hours trying to book online but get the tickets sent to our phones because we had no way of printing. We did it, but it took both of us, using different pieces of equipment. We had other days trying to do the same later.)
Whilst lying there in the early evening I heard the sounds of a string trio playing in one of the other apartments. The notes echoed round the courtyard in the evening light as the traffic hum dimmed, and floated through my bedroom window. Quite magical.
What a day of contrasts.
stopping by woods 