Another day, another market

I went back to Saint Eustache today. Although this open air street market began as recently as 2005, and although there are plenty of street markets all around Paris, I felt compelled to come to this spot, where people have come to sell their food for around one thousand years. I don't know...a pilgrimage of sorts.

Chausson aux pommes - bottom right

Saint Eustache and the market

I bought a chausson aux pommes which is basically puff pastry around apples (in this case, apple puree). I wanted to take a close up picture of it, but I was ravenous and couldn't wait. It was delicious...what I loved was how UN-sweet it was. There was little to no sugar on top, and the apple puree inside was fresh and tart. Fortifying! I also rolled the dice on a little foil wrapped tidbit marked "macaron d'Amiens." Inside was a luscious nugget of rough marzipan - the intermediary between the puffy colorful almond cookies that are all the rage, and the sticky, coconut macaroons more available in les Etats Unis.

Walking down Rue Rambuteau, I started to encounter the hordes of tourists again. My misanthropic tendencies started burbling to the surface....but it wasn't that bad...and there was lots to do and see.

French perfume - mmmmm

What if a bird....you know....?

Pain de Sucre - the savory side - crazy expensive

Au Pied de Cochon

Fragonard was such a cute little store. They have been making perfume since 1782, in Grasse (near Cannes), where they have a perfume museum. They had very traditional perfume, and a bunch of wonderful eau de toilettes....spraying them on little strips of cardboard and comparing the scents made for a very girly experience.

Pain de Sucre is an amazing place - there is a sweet side, and a savory side. Everything looked amazing, but sheesh, I just don't know about those prices. A tiny little tart, 3" in diameter, for $10? The 1 euro macaron was good enough for today.

More juxtaposition of old and new...designer boutiques in medieval-looking stone buildings, sushi delivery cars in front of giant carved doors...

and street musicians every 20 feet...

My ultimate goal was the Carnavalet museum - a museum of the history of Paris. I was hoping for a chronological tour of Parisian history, but as the guy at the information desk said, "zees ees eempossible!" OK, the museum was free, and yeah, I think I picked up and pieced together some knowledge, but all in all, not as enthralling as I had hoped.

Welcoming all visitors, Louis Quatorze, the Sun King. I think I forgot to mention that when I was strolling the winding cobblestone streets of Montmartre the other day, I heard the sound of a mandolin and two guys singing harmony on the Beatles "Here Comes the Sun King." They were rehearsing in a tiny little theater, and I walked past the open door. Kind of a nice moment.

I did enjoy this painting of a market...same as it ever was...note the giant slices of giant pumpkin near the bottom left/center.

Proust's apartment

 This hall was really cool - old shop signs...since many people were illiterate in days of yore, shopkeeper's signs relied less on language, more on unambiguous images. Scissors = haircut. Fork = restaurant. Le Chat Noir = Nightclub. Hunh?

I left the museum and walked down to Rue Rivoli - this is where the throngs of humanity really started getting to me. Plus, it warmed up today to a blistering 75 fahrenheit, so I was hot...and yes, I know what it is in Texas. What's more, I have been doing a lot of walking, so my feet hurt. All those irritants combined enticed me into a cafe called La Favorite. And, because I needed to be seated, in the shade, with a cold beverage... it didn't even hurt THAT much to learn that my little glass of Perrier cost $7.00

Wending my way back to the metro, I stopped at the Hotel de Ville. I always thought San Francisco's City Hall was a little over the top, but it ain't got nuthin' on this place!

There are statues embedded into the building - there must be a hundred different important people mounted on the walls of this place. Very impressive, and cool.

Finally, home on the metro, where a sweet young man serenaded us with his horn, and his boom box accompaniment.