What We Do on the First Day in Paris

After having found the a local bar/brasserie that accepts jet-lagged clients with the same courtesy as locals (Le Petit Sommelier), we have one ritual that works best in good weather - that's a walk from Montparnasse to the Luxembourg Gardens. It's an easy walk for jet-lagged wobbly feet - so we can do it - preferably past Blvd Raspail under the nodding approval of Rodin's Balzac. We cross over to Rue Vavin and dodge mothers piloting baby strollers with the smoothness of Formula 1 - drivers.

On a sunny day in late May, it's not the flowers that draw us to this park of poets, but several favorite landmarks.

The fountains: - Although the Medici fountain (1630) is the oldest and the biggest crowd-pleaser, I have to admit that I'm hooked on the Fontaine de l'Observatoire or the 'Carpeaux' fountain. First off, we want to know whether the fountain is actually on - and today, we're fortunate. The Fremiat-sculpted stallions are getting properly splashed.

Sculptor Carpeaux takes credit for the winsome nudes representing the 'Four Parts of the World'. At the time the work was considered scandalous - not of course because of the nudity, but clearly looking at the expressions of these lovely 'women of four worlds', they were just having too much fun holding up the globe.

Technically speaking, the Carpeaux fountain isn't in the Luxembourg Garden. It's in the annex gardens known as the Marco Polo Gardens which lead to Rue de L'Observatoire and Boulevard Montparnasse.

Another monument which always deserves a pause is located near the gardens at the Montparnasse and Observatoire intersection. This is the statue of Marshall Michel Ney (sculpted by Rude). It's incredible to think that a statue stands in Paris for a marshall who was shot for treason. Even if one doesn't know half the story, Rude's portrayal of a marshall whose last command to his executors: "Be sure and shoot straight in the heart!" - shows that this was a guy with guts.

For visitors from the Carolinas - there are some rumors - or myths that Ney wasn't actually shot - that his execution was staged and he ended up in North or South Carolina.

Walking around the gardens can be a veritable history lesson if one takes the time to look carefully at each statue. Likewise plenty of drama had to unfold within the Luxembourg palace constructed for Marie de Medici, Henry IV's queen and mother to Louis XIII. At one point the queen's favorite painter Rubens was thought to be a spy.

Of course, each day in these gardens, new plots are certainly hatched for great fiction and, maybe even, poetry, or simply a daydream.

First Day Back in Paris

Recently a stateside friend asked, what's the first thing you do when you get back to Paris?
Recover from jet-lag - or try.

But I know what he was really asking me is - 'what's the first thing you do to celebrate your return to Paris? '
Because, and I'm sure this is true for many return visitors to France, there must be rituals.

And there are rituals, but I tend to downplay them. Rituals can be mistaken for habits and habits get boring - fast.

Breaking Fast.

If you're flying in from the US to Paris, you'll normally arrive in the morning. That sorry excuse for a roll and a plastic container of yogurt you received in flight don't measure up to breakfast, and, after waiting for the Air France Le Car shuttle bus from CDG to Montparnasse during morning rush hour traffic, you'll be lucky to get into Paris before eleven am.

We used to have breakfast at a cafe/brasserie called 'L'Ocean' across from the train station. Now that 'L'Ocean' has closed its doors, we've shifted over to another local bar/tabac which has recently metamorphosed from a tabac into a non-stop brasserie called 'Le Petit Sommelier'. The lunches might be two or three euros cheaper at restaurant chains (like Indiana) or the pizza joints - but where else would you get freshly mashed potatoes and a huge plate of roast chicken for thirteen Euros?

With jet lag, I'm never really quite sure whether I'm hungry, thirsty or just exhausted. So, it's important to find just the right place where we can sit and stare at the passing scene with glazed eyes and not seem out of place. We've always had this hopelessly idealistic idea that we'd find the perfect little brasserie, preferably in the same building as our apartment where we might return after an extended absence - and the waiter - or bartender might remember us. (This might have worked in the fifties or sixties, but not in the new millenium!) After ten years, we haven't 'exactly' found that certain neighborhood bar/brasserie to call 'home'.

So, if there's a return ritual, it would be 'looking for a brasserie to call home'. That's not to say we don't know a few of the waiters in the neighborhood as well as owners of the one of the local Chinese restaurants on Gaite. The Liberte at Edgar Quinet is a little to far flung to be called our 'local bar' and the Chinese restaurant doesn't serve breakfast, so I'm optimistic about Le Petit Sommelier although right now, my jet-lagged brain is playing tricks with the name - is it really "Le Petit Sommelier, or is it "Le Petit Sommeil"?

Le Petit Sommelier
Avenue du Maine
Metro: Gaite
Across from Gare Montparnasse
Plat du jour: 13.50 Euros
Glass of House Wine 4.50 Euros