On Friday morning I was feeling OK again, and after breakfast Sophie and Jean François walked us over to the Dijon train station where they bid us good-bye and where we caught the TGV to Paris. One's car number and seat assignment were on the ticket, and the signage on the platform showed exactly which car to get on. The ride to Paris was easily the smoothest and best train ride I’d ever experienced, leaving me to hope that French railroads would one day establish a trans-Atlantic route. We were met at Gare de Lyon by our Paris representative, who gave us the usual handouts, bundled us into vans, and got us to our hotel, the Millenium Opera. After checking in, I hopped the Metro to the Selmer store where I wanted to pick up a new tuning barrel for my clarinet. Got there about 12:30 to find it closed. Not entirely surprised, as midday closure is quite common for French businesses, though I had hoped the main company outlet in the largest city might be an exception, but I was willing to come back later. Alas, there was a sign on the door that this week they would be closed Friday through Monday. (No reason given.) Rats. Got back on the subway to the Champs Elysées, and stopped in at Hermès on Rue George V to get scarves as Christmas presents for my nieces. They didn’t have the designs I wanted, but they checked and were kind enough to direct me to the main store on Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré where they did have the desired patterns. I walked down the Champs to the Ladurée store where I picked up some macarons for the girl who was tending to my mail at home, then to the main Hermès store for the scarves, on the way to which I saw the outside of the Eglise de la Madeleine, then walked a couple blocks to make sure that l’Ardoise was still around for a dinner I wanted to have on the last night, and grabbed a late lunch at a cafe on the Rue de Rivoli. Subway back to the hotel to drop off what I had picked up, then off again by subway to try to find the Van Doren store in Montmartre, where I wanted to pick up some other things: a mouthpiece and some reeds. Got there about 4:30 to find a sign saying they closed at 4 on Friday. Rats, and rats again. Back to the hotel where I rested a little, then had a modest dinner at a local cafe. (As I was going to a concert that night, eating at a good restaurant was not possible, as they typically don’t open until curtain time, and I am not comfortable with eating a late post-concert meal.) Got dressed for the concert at Salle Pleyel by the Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France with a Russian program of Rhapsody #2 by Svetlanov; a violin concerto by Youssoupov, Vadim Repin violin; and the Shostakovich 5th. Then back to the hotel after a busy day.
Saturday started with a trip to Sacré Cœur. I took the Metro to Abbesses, which seemed to be the closest stop. After getting off the train, I started up the stairs instead of using the elevator. Big mistake. This station is quite deep, and it was a looong climb. But once emerging, the square at Abbesses was quite charming, with a carousel and an old Guimard Art Nouveau Metro entrance. Walking down a side street brought me to the base of the hill and the funicular base station, which was the best way to get to the top. Sort of, as once at the top of the funicular, there were still a lot of steps to climb leading up to the cathedral. I went into the church, and it was as ornate as you might expect. As at Notre Dame, there were signs that you should not take photographs, which I adhered to, though alas, as at Notre Dame, this was a restriction generally more honored in the breach than the observance. After lunch at a cafe I took the funicular back down, then walked down the hill to Anvers for the metro again. On the way back I stopped at the Gare du Nord and the Gare de l’Est. Both rather magnificent structures. Returned to the hotel to relax a bit, then dinner again at last night’s cafe. I dressed for a concert, and went to the Théâtre des Champs Elysées near Alma Marceau for a recital of belle canto arias by Joyce DiDonato with the Orchestre de l’Opera de Lyon, Riccardo Minasi conducting. Minasi eschewed a baton—not unusual—but he was a whirl of arm and body movement, somewhere between a tarentella and St. Vitus’ dance, fascinating to watch. The singing was glorious. This was a old theater, and most seats were chairs, except the end seat which was a fold down jump seat, which I unwittingly had reserved, the only sour note of the night. It had been a long day and felt good to get back to the hotel.
At breakfast the next day I ran into Karin, and asked her if she and Kimm would like to join me for dinner at l’Ardoise that evening, and she graciously accepted with the proviso that Dennis and Tom join us as well. It was a condition easy to accept as it would make a more interesting group, so I had the hotel concierge make reservations for the five of us. Plans for the day started with visiting the Hôtel des Invalides and its Musée de l’Armée. I started with Medieval and Renaissance arms and armor, then went upstairs to the section on the First and Second World Wars. An interesting collection that took up more time than I had expected, and while its emphasis on French military history was both to be expected and reasonable, one was given the impression that WWII was pretty much singlehandedly won by DeGaulle, who with noblesse oblige allowed the Allies some small part. After finishing the museum, or at least as much of it as I could handle, I grabbed a sandwich in the museum’s cafe for a late lunch. Though I had planned to add the Luxembourg Gardens to the day’s sightseeing, it was getting late and I was pretty much touristed out, so I headed back to the hotel to relax. Later met Kimm, Karin, Tom, and Dennis in the lobby and with a brief detour across the street to an ATM for Karin, we hopped the subway to the Place de la Concorde and dinner. We had a good time, and there seemed to be a consensus that this was the best meal of the trip. (Thank you, l’Ardoise chef.) Walking back from the restaurant, Karin mentioned that before she left Paris she wanted to see the Eiffel Tower lighted up at night, and as we turned into the Place de la Concorde, mirabile dictu, there it was with lights sparkling as it was the beginning of the hour—a special treat for us all. We got on the subway back to the hotel and, as we were leaving the next morning at different times, bid one another farewell after a marvelous couple of weeks.
Monday morning it was raining, the first rain since the last full day in Lyon, but it didn’t matter as it was just a trip to the airport on the docket. Rode in the van with some of the Texans. The check-in line was long, there were only two clerks, and I thought I’d miss my flight, but they called people for the Boston flight out of line, and I finally was checked in and made it through the usual annoyances at passport control and security to get to my exit gate, which, naturally was at the far end of the departure lobby. I’d like to say it was a good flight, but it was cramped and uncomfortable, and I hope never to have to fly Delta trans-Atlantic again. Once in Boston, it was fairly straightforward getting through the bureaucracy, and after a short wait, the bus back to NH arrived and it was homeward bound. Dennis picked me up at Londonderry and dropped me off at home, tired but happy.