We sleep in a little, skip the hotel breakfast in favor of sidewalk café in our Rue Cler neighborhood. It’s a short walk to the Musee de Armee, the military museum where Napoleon is buried. OK, buried is not the right term. We should have known what to expect when the entire relatively plain (by Paris standards, anyway) place, in the middle of the city, is literally surrounded by an actual mote. Inside is one of the grandest halls we have seen here dominated by a massive alter. It takes us a minute to realize that the entire main level is a gallery overlooking Napoleon’s tomb, a massive stone structure that could have easily fit his horse and most of his family inside. But it doesn’t. However, there are plenty of other honored generals and dignitaries enshrined around the perimeter is coffers almost as nice. We are stunned and amazed.
We are not the kind of people who shop on vacation. (Do you think there’s a “but” coming? There’s a big but coming…) But hey, we are in Paris, so shop we do. We start at Place de la Madeleine, mecca if you want the really high end. We have more fun than we should in the likes of Channel, Hermes and Panerai. Trying on $5000 jackets really takes a lot out of us, so we swing by Laudaree for some of the best, and most Disney-comes-to-real-life picturesque coffee and macaroons on the planet. Sitting across from Mandy, I have a feeling I’m not actually here, but I’ve been transported to her ideal childhood tea party.
Then it’s on to the main event. Gallerie Layfayette. It’s an ornately domed eight story palace. A museum dedicated to every current high end brand. It’s amazing and breathtaking and overwhelming and frantic and exhausting. It’s also the most international mash up we have ever been a part of. Americans and Asians and Europeans and chirping dozens of languages at a fevered pitch, all being waited on by throngs of multilingual, multiethnic French clerks each an expert in their chic brand. We find a few nice things for Mandy and head to the rooftop terrace for a very civilized late lunch. Aperol Spritz for her, wine for me. Exact calming effect needed. Mandy has the prosciutto and melon, and it may be the best we have ever had. I get the burger, “medium rare”, that ends up being steak tartare on a bun with lettuce and tomato. When in Rome… Paris… OK, it was delicious and I ate every bite.
Hotel shower nap. Can’t tell you how nice that is as the transition from vacation day to vacation night. We walk from the hotel past the Eiffel Tour, by now our normal wallpaper to each day, to board a Seine river cruise by night. It’s nice, and we see places we have been by and in from a new vantage point. I also realize I still do not know my way around the city. Walking home, stop by a café open late for moules frites (mussels and fries) and Camembert. And wine. Always wine. Usually the house, cheap and good. In the room, Mandy wishes the tower good night as it twinkles back at her.
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