An otherwise uneventful flight with typical airline food -- only with better sounding names -- and a frightfully awful film delivered us (and our bagages) in Paris on the morning of February 17th (le 17 février). An ensuing -- also uneventful -- taxi ride put us at the Union Hôtel Etoile (ma piaule temporaire) just in time for breakfast. After unpacking our bagages, we set out to explore Paris. We combed the immediate neighborhood (le quartier) for fruits (fruits) and vegetables (légumes), scoped out the local wine shops (les boutiques à vin), and otherwise got our bearings -- all in the first few hours!
It turned out that the Hôtel, equidistant from the Eiffel Tower (La Tour Eiffel) and the Arch of Triumph (L'arc de Triomphe), had a kitchen (une cuisine), so we bought lots of goodies -- cheeses (fromages), wines (vins), bread (pain), pâté, and -- well, you get the idea. (Vous comprenez.)
Albert's birthday (l'anniversaire d'Albert) was the next day, and with all good intentions, I had hoped to take him to Les Bouquinistes, a charming restaurant on the Quai des Grands Augustins in the 4th arrondissement, just across from Notre Dame Cathedral (Le Cathédral de Nôtre Dame). Les Bouquinistes is a place to which I have sent several friends and visitors over time. At the time, however, this particular Guy Savoy restaurant was relatively new; now, it has not only made the Michelin Guide (Le Guide Michelin), it has also made a name for itself in Zagat's Guide to Paris Restaurants as well as all of the important travel books.
Unfortunately a reservation (une réservation) was not to be, so we celebrated Albert's anniversaire at a restaurant just next door (à côté) to the hôtel, a fortuitous move as the owner (Madame la Propriétaire) turned out to be a grand lady in her own right; she and I became fast friends. The specialty of the house (la spécialité de la maison) was a rich veal stew known as blanquette de veau, a dish that I have mastered in my own cuisine, thanks to (grâce à) Madame.
Friday, le 19 février (February 19th) found Albert and me on a bus -- yes, thank you, I rode le bus to and from work everyday -- headed to the Hôpital Américain de Paris (get it??), the objectives being (a) to see how long it would take me to get from the Hôtel to the Hôpital and (b) by how many conveyances, my own two feet (deux pieds) included. Well, it turns out that le bus was within one block (une rue) de l'Hôtel, and it also turns out that it was a mere 15-minute ride from door to door, the terminus of this particular line -- the ever popular #82 -- being l'Hôpital Américain de Paris.
We arrived at the gates, Albert in his "finest" tee shirt and jeans and me in something equally chic. Not content to walk around unobtrusively, we -- well, I decided the "we" part of this one -- went to visit the Office of External Relations, aka Le Bureau des Rélations Extérieures, aka my office. Everyone who was everyone met and greeted us in a multiplicity of languages (to make sure we understood), and the CEO's "gatekeeper," Madame la Secrétaire Générale, even suggested pulling "himself" out of a meeting to say "hello" (Allô). (We/I didn't think so.) Politely, but with all due haste, we decided to hightail it back à l'Hôtel; having satisfied ourselves that the 16th arrondissement (le quartier de l'Hôtel) would be the ideal place to search for an apartment (un appartement, aka un 'appart').
Coming up: Furnished or Unfurnished: That is the Question! (Meublé ou Non-meublé: Ca c'est la question!)
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