We had a 9:30 date with the Musée d’Orsay, so we ordered breakfast in the room to save time. Rabea showed up with our Caffè Crema right on schedule. We were set up for success.
Mom had been studying the Frenchies Facebook group all year. Last year the crowds had felt claustrophobic and she had regretted missing out on the clock photo and not getting to fully enjoy the Impressionists. She wanted a do over. The trick she had found: book a 9:30 timed entry, arrive 30 minutes early, stand at Door C, sprint upstairs to the fifth floor, and beat the crowd to the iconic clock window before the place becomes a sea of humanity.
There was just one wrinkle. The 9:30 timed tickets were sold out. Our concierge found us third-party tickets that allowed any-time entry instead. Which meant Door C did not work for us. We got in line 2 instead.
But the rest of the plan was intact. Through security, we practically sprinted up the escalators to the fifth floor.
There was already a line of about ten people waiting for the clock photo. Not perfect, but a far cry from last year’s crushing crowd. The line moved fast. Every so often someone would wander into the frame and look out, completely unaware there was a line behind them. I would call out “we have a line!” and they would drift away, never in a hurry. We made friends with the woman ahead of us and took her photo. She took ours. Magical.
Then we moved into the Impressionist galleries. We took our time and admired everything, stopping at the Degas ballerina sculpture.
About 5 minutes in, we heard a loud hacking cough echo from the clock room heading toward the impressionist rooms, and then the crowd started building like a tidal wave. We quickly moved through, snapping photos, dodging the germs, admiring our way out.
The gift shop was the final stop. Mom got a beautiful scarf. I got some books for the grandkids.
Then lunch. Les Antiquaires.
We arrived a little early. I decided to eat a substantial lunch since dinner was until well after 8pm. I had the beef bourguignon they are known for. Mom had a salad. For dessert we shared the waiter’s favorite, a warm pain perdu (French toast served as dessert). It was delicious.
Then back to the hotel because I had time to kill before my blowout at Toni & Guy.
The hair gal did a nice job. I have no photos.
On our way back to the hotel, we ducked into a little boutique next to Pas de Calais. I had spotted a brown and purple striped shirt earlier and could not stop thinking about it. I tried it on. Loved it. I had also seen a matching bag that would double as a day bag on my upcoming trip. I was already at the register when the manager came running up holding a matching brown suede jacket. It was perfect. I had to have it. A timeless classic.
Back to the room for a rest before our 8 PM Seine dinner cruise. Plot twist: the room had not been cleaned yet. We headed back downstairs to wait it out. The Pas de Calais does a thorough job. They change the sheets, do everything properly. So we ordered a cup of tea each and parked ourselves in the lobby. Eventually the room was spick and span and we got our rest.
For dinner I wore my new outfit. Mom wore her new scarf.
Le Calife is a beautiful old wooden boat docked at the Place de l’Institut on the Left Bank, just minutes from our hotel. It was built in 1939 in Belgium as a cargo barge. Decades later, the current owner and captain spent eighteen years restoring it into a floating restaurant. The boat is full of details that did not have to be there but are. Stained glass from 1789. A Steinway piano from 1879. A three-hundred-year-old Buddha. Portholes pulled from old Italian ships.
We boarded, settled in, and the boat headed east along the Seine toward Notre Dame.
We both started with the chanterelle mushroom puff pastry. For mains, I had the beef tenderloin Rossini. Mom had the braised lamb shoulder. For dessert, Mom got the lemon cheesecake with a shot of limoncello, and I got the tarte tatin with a shot of calvados.
We met another couple at the table next to us and compared trip notes. They had just been to Monet’s garden in Giverny and were disappointed they had not been able to stay for lunch. We told them about our experience the year before, when the restaurant was crowded, the staff was rude, and the service was painfully slow. We eventually gave up and left, only to end up at a sandwich shop nearby where the cold sandwiches were nothing to write home about. We assured them they had not missed anything. They were relieved.
They also took a photo of Mom and me from their angle that turned out way better than the one the waitress had snapped. Theirs showed the beautiful style of the boat in the background.
At some point the boat turned around. The sun was setting and the entire riverbank was alive. Picnickers everywhere. Bottles of wine. Music. Couples on blankets. The Paris that lives outside in May.
We passed our boarding point. The captain had timed it perfectly so we would be in front of the Eiffel Tower for its hourly twinkle. Then he turned us around for the ride back. Magical.
On the walk back to Pas de Calais, the city was alive with music and gatherings, pop-up performances on every corner.
Happiness is Possible 