When I was planning our recent week-long trip to Paris, I felt a little like Willy Wonka at the beginning of the factory tour:
“But hurry please, we have so much time and so little to see. Wait a minute! Strike that. Reverse it. Thank you.”
The list of what we did see and do is dwarfed by all we did not have the opportunity to experience – which is fine. I will be back again soon.
But quite of few of you have asked about the trip and I have struggled where to start. So, using Willy Wonka as inspiration, let’s start on the last day and go in reverse.
Last day. Rainy. Cold. Spring. Typical Paris – and I loved it. Flight leaving in three hours, which is just enough time for one more quick meal and for the Husband and me, every meal had now become a simple affair of bread, cheese, charcuterie, and wine.
While the Husband tackled our leftovers, I headed down the street and decided to try once more to practice my French – which consists of a lot of stumbled over greetings and unfortunately, pointing at items.
Makes sense that the last day, I would end up at a place that was straight out of Brooklyn: Organic. Not Cheap. Sells produce next to the sandwich counter (because ramps go with sandwiches?). Bottled water is twice the price of the water at the bodega and I couldn’t pronounce a single sandwich’s name.
While I am sure there was sandwich that used the caviar as a spread, I was able to quickly translate the smoked salmon on rye scrawled on the chalkboard menu. The shopkeeper and I exchanged a few raised eyebrows with a questioning “oui” after each ingredient.
I guess he finally understood my broken french/english when I said, “whatever you think is best” – which is really the best way to order anything in Paris – because he turned to the counter and started making my order.
While he made my sandwich, I browsed the cheese and condiments. Yes to all. One of each. How many grocery items will fit in my carry-on bag?!?!
A nice lady entered, chatted with the shopkeeper/sandwich maker and picked out some lovely produce (including a ramp – I guess they are in season).
When she turned her back, I took a picture of her basket of produce and I wondered how “tourist” or “blogger” would translate? Neither person paid me any mind, so I just keep snapping away.
After about three minutes, my smoked salmon sandwich was complete, wrapped in adorable owl branded wax paper and handed to me.
Last day. Last meal. And I have to say it was the best damn sandwich I had all week.
Still kicking myself for not venturing into the shop on the first day of the trip. But I am not worried because I will do exactly that…next time.
43 rue de Verneuil