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| People watching from Les Deux Magots |
I like Air Canada. I'm sorry, but it's true. I've never had a problem with them that wasn't weather related, and they've never lost my luggage (I check only on the way home). Yes, the flight attendants are as friendly as diner waitresses working the midnight shift, but as long as they bring me Diet Coke when I need it, I'm cool. Frankly, I am not one to want to sing Happy Birthday to my fellow travelers anyway (sorry, West Jet). The planes are new, the TVs plentiful, and the food is, well, free.
When we flew to Paris last month, it was on old familiar AC 880, which we've taken several times before. We got to the airport too early, of course. No bags to check (truly, you don't need to check luggage. I've done 2 weeks in Europe no problem, though I suspect traveling to a cold climate would pose problems, but why the hell would anyone want to do that?) All we had to endure was passing through security. I often get an extra pat down, or have my hands checked for explosives. I think I am the Token White Lady, you know? The last time we were in the Bahamas, I got a pat down (rather, a feel up), from an eager lady that surely should have resulted in a marriage proposal. She started at the top, worked her way down, then went back to the top! "Oh, we're going again!", I said jokingly, as she patted and squeezed (they're real, honey). But I digress...
The flight was uneventful, and we got to CDG on time. We grabbed a train into Paris, where we dropped our bags at Gare Montparnasse so we could enjoy a few hours in the city before catching our train to Bordeaux. What do you do with 4 hours on a sunny day in Paris? Get thee to a café! We wandered from Montparnasse into Saint-Germain, up boulevard Raspail. There was an open air market in the middle of the street, which is one of the many things that make Paris great. Fresh meat, cheese, baked goods, fruits and veggies. I can't resist cheese, so I picked up a few little Rocamadour rounds to nosh while we continued our walk on rue de Rennes towards Café de Flore, my Happy Place.
Turns out, my Happy Place wasn't so happy on this occasion. A lot is made of the rudeness of waiters in Paris, and I must say I had never experienced it until that day. I have had so many great waiters at the Flore, that it was truly sad to get this old fart who straight up refused to take our order. We had gotten some coffee and water to start, but were planning on grabbing lunch and some wine, but he wouldn't come back! It was almost funny- I'd wave, he'd nod and make eye contact, then he'd leave. He even came over, took the menus from us, then backed away! I am no longer intimidated by Parisiens, so we just left in a huff, and went next door, to Les Deux Magots.
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| Croque monsieur and Champagne. |
I had never been to LDM, as I figure you're either a Flore person or a LDM person. It's like Pepsi or Coke- you are loyal to one, and the Flore was my Coke. That is, until a dick waiter wouldn't bring me Champagne; that was a throw down that would not stand. We crossed the street, and got a perfect table in the atrium at LDM. A lovely waiter came by quickly, and in a mixture of English and French, bubbly and a few croque monsieurs were ordered. We ate, drank, people watched, breathed in other people's cigarette smoke, and had the most Parisien of afternoons.
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