Day Three: 24 Aug. 2002

We don't sleep very well. We're up talking at 1am, we feel better afterwards, and we sleep until 10am. We shower and then head for the Ile St. Louis for breakfast at La Flôre en l'Ile. It's dessert-as-breakfast. Wonderful. We're on the west side of the Ile, with a great view of Notre Dame and the Pont St. Louis. I take a picture of Kathryn in front, for her friend Sally who suggested the place. Across the bridge to the Notre Dame. Tourists are packing the shops on the Rue de Cloitre Notre Dame, and though I could use some more film, I decide this is not the place to buy it. The lines to go up the tower or into the church are insane, and our Cartes Musées apparently won't help us here. We walk around the facade and the south side, admiring buttresses and kissing, etc.

We were directed to the square behind the church for the Crypt Archeologie, but it's not here. Another guy directs us to the front, and there it is. Nobody lined up here! Down the steps, into a dank museum that smells vaguely of cat pee. Lots of cool stuff, though. The museum features dioramas illustrating the historical stages of Paris, from the first settlers, through the Romans, the Middle Ages, and Napoleon III's sweeping changes. The museum also offers one of the clearest illustrations of the layers that make up the city: You get to walk around under the Parvis (square) in front of Notre Dame, where some of the first of Paris's buildings were built. Here's a medieval cellar built over the tiles of a Roman bath. There's the edge of the island, which has expanded over time. Apparently, until the mid-19th century, the Parvis was crammed with 15th-century buildings and narrow, twisting streets, so that today's magnificent view of Notre Dame's facade would have been impossible. Still, I find myself curious to wander through that dense medieval city. The Crypt Archeologique could use a little sprucing-up, some clarification of the exhibits, but in general it was fascinating.

When we return to the surface again the lines into Notre Dame are much shorter. We show our Cartes Musées and go in. Kathryn notices several tourists dressed far too casually - shoulders bared, etc. We make the slow and crowded trip counter-clockwise around the middle; K lights a candle and a somber mood takes hold of us. Notre Dame is awe-inspiring and, again, multi-layered -- there are lots of things going on. We see an exhibit of paintings about Juan Diego and Our Lady of Guadelupe, from the Mexican population in Paris. We see a confession, it's face-to-face, across a table, in a glassed-in chapel. We sit for a minute in the middle of the church, praying silently. The place feels heavy with centuries of grief and prayer. As we leave, we are ready for something lighter.

We head for the Latin Quarter again, with a quick stop at Shakespeare & Co., where we buy a couple Paris guides. More maps! Better maps! The cashier is from London, and is very helpful and sympathetic. In the little square in front of the shop are postings in English on a bulletin board - job offers, houses to buy. If only! Next we bummed around the Quartier Latin, down to Boulevard Saint Germain and west to Rue Bonaparte, crossing the Pont Des Arts on the way back. Shopping was great fun, and we found, after what had seemed a fruitless search, the world's best crépe. At least that's what the crépemaster said, and we don't doubt him for a second. We asked him for a chocolat, Grand Marnier and chantilly (whipped cream) crépe, which wasn't exactly on the menu, but he whipped one up. Magnifique. I wore some of it on my shirt and pants as a badge of honor. We got back to the hotel (where I reluctantly removed my crépe badge), borrowed some of the hotel's guide books for restaurant ideas, and sadly learn that Armand's (recommended by a friend) is closed. We make reservations at Le Soufflée instead, for 9:15. We wait, watching a bit of Amelie, sans subtitles, on my laptop's DVD player. Time to go.

Le Soufflée turns out to be packed with Americans; some are even on cell phones just to complete the picture. The food is excellent. Kathryn has a modest two-souflée meal, but I go for the full three: a cheese souflée, a salmon souflée, and for dessert a chocolat/Grand Marnier souflée. Mmm! Towards the end of the meal, we realize there was a non-smoking section, and we were not in it. Next time.

On the way back to the hotel, we admire the huge ferris wheel in the Tuileries, just west of the Louvre. It's part of a summer carnival, and we walk down the Rue de Rivoli looking for a way in. Kathryn warns me that this is the kind of place where Gypsies sometimes pick your pocket. We enter the carnival at the west end, near the giant inflatable gorilla that presides over one of the rides. There are concession stands (featuring Pizza!), games of chance and skill, a little-kid roller coaster (the kind Kathryn likes), a haunted house, and a terrifying device that shoots people up into the air on a springy cord, like an upside-down bungee jump. We choose the Whirligig, and as we get on, I wish I hadn't warn my slip-on, slip-off shoes. We take two adjacent seats, hold hands as the thing starts spinning, and then Whoo! get up high in the air, with the wind in our faces. My souflées stay put, as do my shoes, and the ride eventually slows down. "Wasn't that fun?!" says Kathryn, all aglow. As we walk home past the darkened Louvre, the moon is in line with the streetlamps.

On to Day Four