We decide to meet for lunch on Ile Saint-Louis, the smaller and more charming of the two isles in the Seine, at the Cafe St. Regis, a Belle Époque charming establishment. We had a lovely lunch and chat with a family that lives in Frankfort and are here with their adorable 12-year-old son and his friend.
Gail would like to go to Sacre Coeur and Place du Tertre...she's been there before but would like to do it again. So we continue walking to the Metro, Cite, a beautiful station with Belle Époque lamps, something you would never see in the States. We take the train up to the Montmartre quatier and find the funicular going all the way up to Sacre Coeur at the top of the highest hill in Paris. We are able to walk into this church with no waiting. It's beautiful. We then wend our way over to Place du Tertre where all the artists sit and draw your portraits. We tried to get Gail to do it, but she didn't think she could sit that long considering she still didn't feel 100 per cent.
Marty and I go off and check out a few galleries in the area. It's about 6:30 and as we're walking around we come upon a long line of people standing outside a restaurant. It's the tourists waiting to get into the Atelier Joel Robuchon. He's a known chef and this is his "bar" restaurant. It literally has no tables and is just a bar which winds through the place. We found out that you cannot just walk in, but must have a reservation, and the prices...oh la la! Entrees (appetizers) can run in the $50's and Plats (main courses) way higher than that! So these aren't just any old tourists or street people waiting for a quick bite to eat! But what they don't know is that it's not chic to eat dinner at 6:30, but OK, now they can check this off on their bucket list. Or maybe we should just say this is not the kind of French restaurant we came here to experience...that's just us...give us a small cozy French bistrot and we're happy as a 'cochon dans la merde!'
As we're watching the conga line of people, a tall dapper longish-gray-haired gentleman, well dressed with a burnt orange cashmere scarf tied casually around his neck noticed us watching the line and started talking to us. We spoke mostly in French about why these people were lined up, and then about Paris. He said he was a dentist and gave us his card. He said Jill had nice teeth and we talked about dentistry here in France. He agreed how the French don't use dental floss but use those little brushes, like what that dentist gave to Jill after he fixed her tooth that broke when we first arrived. Marty happened to have an unopened sample-size roll of Glide in his backpack, so he offered it to Max to try, and maybe get a supply for his patients. He took it and then happily walked off toward the Metro studying his new-found tool.
We were still in the area of Gail's hotel, so stopped there for some information, ended up having an aperitif with her, and then she went off to her early dinner and we took off for L'Entredjeu in the 17th Arondissement where we had a reservation for the second time there. It was a fabulous meal and we really like this place and all the young upscale French crowd was there too.
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