Paris, episode 3. In which we become weary with wonder.

There are certain things we take for granted as Americans and as tourists.  We're adults here, right?  We all have adult needs?  After an early morning Chunnel ride from London and after a leisurely stroll to the Arc de Triomphe from the Eiffel Tower, there were certain needs that were making themselves more and more needful as our Parisian afternoon unfolded.

We both really needed to use the restroom.

Although armed with some spending Euros for the day, we hadn't really planned on perfecting the pocket change necessary for payment at public restrooms (which were not as readily available as your guidebook will have you believe).  Even hotel lobbies with their presumably spotlessly scrubbed facilities along the way of our meanderings were not open to tourists.

Once Mari and I figured out how to safely get across the mammoth gap between the Arc and the Avenue Champs-Elysees, we ran for our lives (snapping this photo to mark our tourist territory) and began our southeastern trek across the one and a half miles of richly dappled shopper's paradise that would take us to the Place De La Concorde and the entrance to the Jardin des Tuileries and (eventually) the Louvre.

We had stopped briefly at a busy boulangerie/patisserie for a cheesy, gooey, toasty croque-monsieur to tide us over until later that evening (no time on a 10-hour walking tour of one of the majestically oldest and exquisitely busiest cities in the world to experience fine dining) so we weren't looking to sit and dine (maybe just to sit and unwind).  As we walked the first block or two onto the famous shopping avenue, Mari and I were both struck (silly) simultaneously with the unexpected juxtaposition of trendy designer names like Swarovski, Montblanc (have I mentioned my pen collection?), and Hugo Boss with perhaps the most famous, least-designer (most-comforting) brand name that has ever crossed our gaze.

McDonald's gave us the break we deserved that day!

During our brief, but much needed respite under the Golden Arches, we also learned to ask for a cup of ice at the McCafe to complement the unfathomably warm soft drinks dispensed to customers at the fast-food counters.  I'll save my treatise on why Americans have come to rely on a higher ice-to-beverage ratio than any other world tourists for another balmy day, but just know that the glistening icy jewels were a welcome little luxury that afternoon.

As you make your way down the Avenue Champs-Elysees, you'll have plenty of opportunity to people watch and window shop, reminiscent of a walk down 5th Avenue or the Magnificent Mile, only it's not New York or Chicago or any other city you know because it's freakin' (pardon my French) Paris! Stores and designers both familiar and foreign, restaurants and pastry shops both chain and unique, buildings and sites both modern and historic line your paved promenade so be sure to linger as you stroll your way down the famed avenue and eventually through to the Champs-Elysees Park where you will exit at the Place De La Concorde, the largest public square in Paris.

It is impossible to miss at the square's center the giant hieroglyphics-decorated obelisk, a gift from Egypt that originally marked the entrance to Egypt's Luxor Temple.  From this now French landmark you have approximately a one mile stroll through the Tuileries gardens to reach The Louvre, the penultimate stop on our Best-of-Paris-in-10-Hours-Walking-and-No-Stopping-Tour.

Upon entering the striking Tuileries with its gravel-lined paths crunching beneath your (tired!) feet, you'll be greeted with layers upon layers of geometrically landscaped greenery, still slumbering peacefully during our pre-spring stroll. The enormous palace gardens became public after the French Revolution and even on an early not-quite-spring day, the paths and benches and carefully crafted quiet corners were being enjoyed by the public and tourists alike.

Vive la révolution!

I was fortunate on my first Paris visit to be with an "expert" although Mari would never claim that her prior visit nor her high school French qualified her in any way as an expert, but she was MY expert and my personal tour guide through the streets of Paris, souvenir photo map in one hand and supportive and adventurous (albeit a bit clammy) hand in the other.  That very (very very very) long walking tour is forever memorable to me for Mari's confident lead and for her contagious overwhelming joy at revisiting a favorite memory and a favorite city.

While my wife had enjoyed a planned and educational afternoon at the Louvre as a teenager 22 years prior to this return visit with her 40-year-old husband, it had been obvious to us while planning our day trip and especially now, after a very (very) long day, that we would be unable to spend more than two hours immersing ourselves in the breathtaking breadth of French art history displayed throughout the Louvre.

That meant Mona Lisa for me and crown jewels for Mari with a few tchotchke inbetween like Winged Victory and Venus de Milo.

Seriously, the moment you share with the Mona Lisa (you will have to find a way to be "alone" with Mona in the small gallery with about a hundred other tourists slash art lovers) will eternally linger with you.  Finding my way to her through the thronged room that was her private home and gazing (not with my usual collector's gaze, unfortunately) at the framed and isolated masterpiece was like looking through a window into the past.  She was colorful and alive in a way that only an artist's vivid imagination could convey.  The only other time I experienced a work of art in this same way was looking up at the glorious ceiling of the otherwise dusky Sistine Chapel--another trip for another blog day.

Still a bit over a mile before our first Paris visit's final stop (and miles to go before I sleep) next time.