Day 3- Arc De Triumph and Champes De'Ellyes

The morning started later than usual, despite the fact the sun comes up at 2am.  We packed up and set off for our first ride on the Paris Metro.  On the way to the closest train station, Bec stopped at some cute boutique baby store which sold cute unique kids shoes at Arabian Prince prices- buy a shoe and get a free palace. Whilst Bec marvelled at the wares, i noticed a sign above her which made absolutely NO sense.  The longer i tried to decode the meaning behind the strange image, the more i made myself chuckle.  Either it is trying to warn that there are dragon flies attacking passing bikes, or it is required by law that people stop freaking out and flap their arms wildly at passing bikes.

On the way to the Metro, we passed an outdoor market which sold all sorts of exotic foods.  We took a quick look before we looked for the entrance to the Metro.  It is convenient that my previous post mentions the memo France had missed with regard to elevators, because today i was personally subject to the horrors faced by disabled people.  The entrance to this particular Metro was an escalator which went down so steep and far, we couldnt see the bottom from where we were standing.  As we approached, however, we noticed very clearly marked on the escalator a 'NO PRAMS' sign.  The variety of flowers underneath the sign suggests that was a hard lesson learned (flowers may or may not have been present).  As an honest citizen, and a concerned father, we walked a little further to the alternate entrance more friendly to those poor accessibly challenged peoples.  In lieu of a lift, Paris' alternative to a steep moving staircase, was a steep not moving stair case- lucky me.  Though a sane city would put their train lines two or three storeys underground, Paris decided a round number of...say 20 storeys would be more suitable.  I rolled up my shirt, bent my knees and picked up my son inside his pram in a gallant effort to ease my wifes involvement in any lifting excercise.  As i staggered down the 'stairs of infinite wonder' into the darkness, I realised my wife had packed extra rocks in her baby bag in case Solomon wanted to build a Dam....or maybe she was expecting to run into some israeli tanks.

At the bottom of the stairs was the ticket gate which was could barely fit my person, let alone the pram.  As i pushed and pulled the pram through the ticket gate, the station master came out of her booth yelling something in French and we were granted access through a side gate. 

Once inside the train station, two staircases up, and three down, we were finally at the platform.  And not soon enough, exhausted and with withered quads and triceps from carrying the pram so far, i collapsed onto the bench, whilst Bec spun around in happiness like Julie Andrews in the 'Sound of Music'. 

The trains are long and completely internally connected with only a single level throughout.  They come often and stop at every station, so theres no need to check which train is yours as long as you are on the correct line.  Catching the trains was simple enough, except for the fact we had to change at one station which wouldnt have been a problem except for the additional superfluous staircases all over the place.  It was like someone just decided to add staircases for fun.  Finally, after a few long tunnels and several thousand steps, we made it to the sunlight.

The Arc-de Triumph in all its grandeur met our gaze as we ascended the Metro into the open air.  Once again, an enormous monolithic structure which looks like it had come from outer space.  Intricately carved and proudly towering over its city, the monument was incredibly majestic.  In order to get closer we had to use an underground network of stairs...again.  Once we got to the entrance of the Arc-De Triumph, tickets cost 10E and there was no Lift except for disabled people.  So i could climb the stairs with Solomon, surely by the time i reach the top i would have destroyed my spine and qualify for a lift back down.  We kindly swore at them in English and left for the famous boulevard Champes De'Ellyes.

The Boulevard Champes De'Ellyes is a well known shopping strip containing the flagship stores of well known brands like Louis Vuitton and Chloe.  Very much unlike the rest of Paris we had experienced to date, the street was very wide with generous footpaths and lined with trees.  It was a lovely comfortable walk with the frequent window shop.  Bec decided she would like to shop at a store called 'Marks and Spencer'.  As she walked around the shop, which had some really nice and decently priced clothes, i walked through the lolly and sweets section- yes, the clothes shop had a lolly section, and it was pretty big too.

After a short time, Bec came to me with desperation holding a wad of clothes.   She desperately needed my help to request in French as to the location of the change rooms.  The closest store official was a very tall, black security guard standing by the door.  I walked up to him all confidently and stuttered the words "ooouu est, quelle ist, pour femme, saaaaaallllee dessyage".  The man looked down at me confused and bewildered.  As i continued for a good 2 minutes, determined and definitely not embarrassed, stuttering up some gibberish language which must have sounded like a spell from Harry Potter, the big black man, in the most african of voices looked down at me and said very clearly "you want the change rooms, they are upstairs and to your left, there is a lift for your pram at the back".  At that point, i was so embarrassed, i told him "Je ne pas parle Anglais" (i dont speak english) and turned around and ran off.

After the shopping, we found a nice Italian restaurant called 'Vesuvio' and decided to give it a go in the hope it could be close to the glorious taste of New York.  The waiter was very kind and gave us a high chair for Solomon as well as some bread sticks for him to play with.  In order to repay the mans kindness, Solomon smashed up the bread sticks, after he had sucked on them all to make them soggy and threw them on the floor, along with the table cloth which adorned the table adjacent to his seat.  He then proceeded to make it his mission to escape from the high chair as he battled his mother by pushing and pulling every single object in his reach to make as much noise and mess as possible as tribute to his god of mischief.  Though we ate in about 7 seconds before Solomon could cause any structural damage, the food was very nice.  the pizza crust was crispy but soft with real mozarella and spicy pepperoni.  The pasta was fresh and firm, with creamy sauce and juicy peas which gave it a lovely kick.  We paid our bill with a generous tip and left.

As we left in such a hurry, we decided we needed dessert and stopped at a famous tea house called Laduree.  We asked to be seated outside amongst the lovely green shrubbery and noisy Parisian traffic, so we could hide Solomon and disguise his Banshee shrieks.  We order a lovely blend of red berries (strawberry and raspberry) and caramel tea and some pastries.  A raspberry macaroon, a dark chocolate eclair and a passionfruit custard tart with fresh raspberries.  The meal was lovely and peaceful.  As Solomon battled with the elements, casualties included his right shoe and sock as well as his bottle....lest he forget.

We finished the Boulevard De'Ellyes, which ended at the river Seine and the lovely Grand Palais, where we caught a cab back to our street.  

As we walked home, we stopped at a fruit market and bought some strawberries which were bright as fire and some cherries which were as big as apricots.  we stopped at a wine market and i requested some fruity mild tasting wine.  After i bought the wine, i requested the shop assistant recommend some cheese to accompany the wine, at which point he followed me to the cheese shop and told the cheese shop owner which wine to give me.  At the cheese shop was the same guy that i met the other morning ordering breakfast.  When he saw me he immediately exclaimed 'Sydney Australia', he remembered!

Time to go home and enjoy a nice quiet, fruit, cheese and wine dinner. Au revoir