Touchdown, Paris. It’s a Sunday so we decided we’d be off to hear mass after dropping our bags in the hotel. Meant to hear the 1130 mass in Notre Dame but the wait from landing to going through passport control and arriving in our hotel ruined our plans. The streets around the hotel near Champ Elysees were so crowded with dog walkers and our hotel transfer wasted precious hours snaking around detours. By the time we were ready to leave the hotel, we couldn’t even hail a cab. Taxi ranks overtaken by pedestrians. So we decided to instead take the metro to Hotel de Ville across Notre Dame. From there we walked towards our chosen restaurant for our Sunday late lunch across the Seine. Au Bourguignon du Marais did not disappoint. Walking along Rue de Rivoli to reach this bourguignon place meant passing by (and dropping in) some shops along Rue de Rivoli, a very trendy street in Le Marais. Tempting to stop for some retail therapy, but after a long flight and muscles begging for a stretch, lunch is the 1st order of the day. And make that a traditional French lunch. A very French lunch.
Beef bourguignon was the bistro’s signature dish and we certainly enjoyed that. Magret de Canard did not really stand out but the dishes that were served before the main entree were truly frenchy good. Love the escargot, the French onion soup and the ouef mayonnaise. More than enough for the four of us. Not bad for our first French meal soon after touchdown. I skipped my inflight meal having decided to sleep through my connecting flight but no luck on catching some winks on these flights. Sob.
We passed on desserts since we planned to indulge in Carette after this heavy lunch but Carette had to wait. Our random plan to visit Musee Carnavalet ended so uncomfortably warm and humid. Don’t misunderstand — Carnavalet is certainly worth a visit (and it’s free) but temps hiked after our late lunch and it was unbearably warm and humid. We didn’t stay too long and upon exit, dragged ourselves to the nearby square, the oldest in Paris. Place des Vosges. Carette and Maison Victor Hugo are both just around the square but after a long sleepless flight, the rising humidity and the thick Sunday crowd, we lost energy and decided to call it a day.
The taxi that brought us home had to deal with closed-off streets and detours. Upon reaching our Paris crib, we were wasted. Ready to hit the sack. But not before a glass of vino rouge.
