New Year's in Paris

At long last!--Paris for a couple of days, with my friends from America...well, from France and America, or...this is confusing in a sort of jet-set way.

Or in my case a high-speed train way. The Thalys tickets arrive in the mail, I halfway recover from my second US-induced cold in time for a ride through Schiphol, Den Haag, Rotterdam, Brussels (the first time I've been back to Brussels in 4 years--how time flies), and past Charles de Gaulle (OK, Roissy) airport, and detrain at Gare du Nord. A beautiful, cold morning, and I walk, through the Republique, through the Marais and just past the Rue Saint-Antoine to my hotel. Which is overbooked. Thank goodness I had e-mailed my hotel's address to my friends. I'm just getting directions to my new hotel when Georges walks in! First good omen. I drag my bag with Georges and Lois to Ma Bourgogne, a great restaurant in the Place Royale. OK, the Place des Vosges to newcomers. And we begin our first enormous meal without delay. Welcome to Paris--please gain weight. And then I walk the few blocks to my hotel, which turns out to be a properly seedy dive...

...with a very, very Parisian window view. A chance to catch up on sleep and maybe even to get a little bit ahead, not a bad idea when arriving with remnants of a cold and not sure how much sleep our plans will allow for.
 

I bring wine to a dinner at Georges' and Lois' apartment on an incredibly narrow medieval street near the metro St. Paul, and another couple arrive, friends of Georges'. It was such a joy to converse in French again, the first time in way too long. Georges and his dapper friend wanted to discuss politics (of course), so I ended up conversing for a long time with his lovely wife, who speaks no English. We parted very late, and I walked back to the hotel in the bitter cold, very, very happy.

The next morning I pretty well skip breakfast and sleep in, both smart moves as it turns out. Lunch at Chez Julien on the Seine: a forgettable filet of bar but a wonderful Sancerre to compensate. This requires much of the afternoon. We go to the top of the Bazaar and identify as many landmarks as we can, which for Georges took about an hour, as he had lived and worked in its shadows for decades. Back to the hotel for another nap, and then it is...New Year's Eve!

Encore a table! Bon. Lois' choice of restaurant for New Year's Eve, the cozy, magnificent L'Excuse, highly highly recommended. The food kept coming and kept coming for hours, well past midnight and my sneaking an extra glass of the excellent champagne from Georges and Lois while they smooched in 2004. And an hour and a half at the table past midnight. No problem sleeping for 2004's first night.

New Year's morning: fresh blanket of snow! Paris looks pretty good in snow until it melts. My task this year's first morning: exchange my 11:00 ticket to Amsterdam Schiphol for a 4:00 ticket. Yes, of course--for another big meal. Unfortunately I hike to the Gare du Nord, not far, but the snow turned to slush right while I walked. It was miserable. Exchanging the ticket was easy, and out the Gare's front doors I am accosted by a taxi driver who asks where I'm going. I tell him Station Metro St. Paul (only 30 m from Georges' apt), and he doesn't know where it is. But he offers to look it up and charge me just 30 euros for the trip. I was already walking, almost running away. I find a legitimate driver, and he takes me right there, by the fastest route--7 euros.

Which led to another long, wonderful lunch at Le Bar A Huitres, sort of a joke name, but a great place and a wonderful long lunch. And eventually, goodbyes.

Taxi back to Gare du Nord and a nasty little trick: the Thalys train runs slowly (only 100 miles per hour) when there is ice or slush. They told me that it's no problem with the wheels or the tracks, but that at high speeds, the resulting vacuum pulls in tons of slush and beats hell out of the trains sides.

And the next morning, back home. Not exactly the view from my Paris windows, but, well, home all the same. Bussum with its mundane little worries on the ground...
 

...and the same skies.
 

Hurry, summer.