Plus Paris

In French, the word more is plus.  As in PLUS.  It is pronounced "plew."  Thus...more Paris.  Below is the carousel at La Tour Eiffel, where Little Bee had her first carousel ride. 

La Tour Eiffel Carousel

The time change was tough on us.  Because of traveling with a baby, we made an effort to go with her schedule.  She woke us in the morning.  She somewhat determined our meal times as we tried to dine while she napped.  It was easier that way.  Inevitably, she was woke by someone or something and in the end, joined us in our meal.
The only representation of any sort of breakfast was our final day in Paris.  I had this delicious raspberry tart, a cheesecake type base in a flaky crust.  Oh, my.

It was wrapped in a lovely sepia printed tented tissue paper which I kept.  In my mind I will use it for an art project.  The shop, pictured below.

Patissier

At La Basillica de Sacre Coueur du Montmartre, I had the most beautiful, sacred, spiritual time.  When you entered, you had to have your camera put away.  Out of sight.  I was putting my camera into my bag as I entered and was reprimanded- "Madame!"  I knelt with the others and crossed myself.  I bought a gold coin and a white rosary which I plan to hang in my bedroom.  I lit a candle in memory of my Grandma.  And, I'm not Catholic.
When I told my daughter she said "you were caught up  in the moment."  I suppose I was.  But it was such a lovely moment.
Back outdoors I was slapped into reality when I looked up and saw the gargoyles.  Some people think gargoyles are cool.  I am not one of these people.  I looked up at them, peering down on us from above and thought to myself "this is why we pray." 

Scared me silly- flying monkey from Wizard of Oz?

PRAY!

I am an environmentalist.  I'm not a fan of SUVs or big-ass vehicles.  No offense if you are a driver of such.  No SUVs or big-ass vehicles in Paris- the streets are too small.  The largest vehicle I saw were narrow van delivery type trucks.  Not even any semis.  I don't know how they do it, but they do.
And I liked it.

Typical narrow Parisian street

The shops, so lovely.  So french.

Isn't this just too, too french?

Look closely at the signs on the apples, below.  They say "pomme Smith" and "pomme Granny."  I would think these are American adapted names.  (Pomme is apple.)  Everywhere, American words and names.  I wanted to purchase French cosmetics.  Nearly impossible.  American brands for Paris.  In the end I found a bottle of french nail polish in the pink I love.  And it is some fine nail polish.  I wish I had bought more of it, but didn't try it before leaving Paris. 

Outdoor fruit stand

The restaurant below Royal Trinite was our terrible waiter experience.  He hated us.  He ignored me.  "Excuse moi, excuse moi," I said waving my hand at him.  He would sneer and motion me away.  "Plus pain, sil vous plait." ("More bread, please." ) The second basket of bread he bought was trash bread.  We couldn't/didn't eat it.  We sat and watched him as he petted the local women and purred over them.  We should have got up and left.  I should have shouted "Arreter!" Pas PLUS!"  (Stop, no more!")
My daughter looked them up when we got home and apparently, we are not the only tourists who had a less than desirable experience. So my advice would be to avoid that restaurant- the place NOT to go!
Et...plus tard.
(And...more later.)

Where not to eat