Paris. Day 1. One Hundred Two Degrees Fahrenheit.
We woke up too early, finished packing, cleared out of the room and got into the van around 5:45 AM. The hotel had told us that we should leave at 5:30 AM because we needed at least 3 hours at the airport. We figured that was crazy and 2 hours would be enough. Before leaving we got our Dan to Go boxed breakfasts, which none of us really ate, except for Tzvi who ate a tuna sandwich at 6 AM.
We got to the airport at 10 to 7:00 and found a massive security line, worse than any of us had ever seen before. We waited for a while and did the security check while on line, but we just weren’t moving that much. Finally, at about 8:05, 5 minutes before our flight was to board, they started calling for people going to Paris and brought us up directly to the check-in counter.
After check-in we ran to our gate and were among the last to board, except then we got on the plane and had to sit waiting for another 20 minutes, so I was pretty upset that I didn’t get my Aroma coffee in the airport.
For this flight we flew El Al Economy Plus, which is basically economy but they give you a bottle of water at the beginning of the flight, and there’s a tiny bit more legroom. We had the bulkhead, so we actually were pretty comfortable, except that people kept using our row as a path between the two sides of the plane, which is something that would only happen on El Al.
Despite Hallie being ridiculously tired, things seemed to be going well. She wasn’t complaining too much and was watching Toy Story. And then, something happened. She started complaining more, and wouldn’t sit in her seat, and was going in and out while sitting on my lap. Then someone said the three magic words that mean an end to all happiness.
“She feels warm.”
Tzvi and I took Hallie to the bathroom and took her temperature (I’ll tell you taking a rectal temp in an airplane bathroom ain’t easy). One hundred.
I may have mentioned that my father, my mother and Avery have all been sick during this trip, but we were crossing our fingers hoping it didn’t spread to any of us. Well, our luck had run out, and just in time.
Let’s just say the rest of the flight was hell, both because Hallie was difficult and because now all we could do was dread what would happen when we land and over the next two days. And there were two hours left in the flight.
We finally landed in Paris and got off the plane, which was when Hallie decided it was the opportune moment to vomit all over Tzvi. It was awful, but also pretty funny.
After cleaning up, we got all of our luggage and headed to the exit, where we were met by a very nice driver with a sign that had our name on it. It was comical loading the van, because it was massive and we just barely fit. Hallie didn’t sleep on the ride, which was awesome.
We made it to our hotel, the Hyatt Paris Madeleine, which is in the 8th Arrondisement and right near the Madeleine church. As soon as we walked in the guest relations manager gave Hallie a unicorn balloon, which was very cute even if the legs did keep falling off. We quickly dropped our bags and then called an Uber to take us to the right bank.
Our first stop was Café de Flore, a famous café on the Boulevard Saint-Germain, where Tzvi and I ate on our honeymoon. It was pretty much unchanged from when we were last there. After puzzling over the French menus for a while and trying to make Google Translate work, we finally asked for English menus and ordered from a kindly older man who was probably working there when Picasso frequented the café.
Sitting at the table next to us was an older man who had a cup of coffee and was writing page after page in beautiful script using a fountain pen. He had earplugs in and the staff seemed hesitant to bother him. He also kept looking over at us, and we really couldn’t tell if it was because Hallie was disturbing his concentration, or because he was writing about us. At one point a waiter came over to shake his hand and then apologized for bothering him. We think he was probably some famous French author, but I guess we’ll never know. If you recognize the man below, let us know.
Anyway, for our lunch I ordered egg whites, which came in a tiny bowl, and Tzvi ordered a mushroom omelet. We all got cappuccinos, Hallie had a hot chocolate, and my mother ordered a cheese plate. My father got a vegetable omelet and we had to call over a manager to translate that he didn’t want cucumbers, because he was concerned someone would put cucumbers in an omelet. What he didn’t ask about was olives (which he hates), so he had about two bites of his heavily olived vegetable omelet, and spent the rest of the meal eating basket after basket of bread. I think they refilled us five times.
After lunch we put Hallie in the stroller and she fell asleep pretty fast. Then we walked about 15 minutes to Angelina, a famous old pastry shop (I think there are actually multiple locations, and we did not visit the original). At Angelina we got macarons, sables and hot chocolate. All were delicious. Also, the shop itself was beautiful. It’s amazing how everything here is so pretty. They’re selling pastries, but they could’ve been selling diamonds.
From there we called an Uber to take us to one of the few pharmacies that was open in Paris on a Sunday (because apparently everything is closed on Sundays) so we could buy children’s motrin, because the one we brought with us spilled in Hallie’s suitcase and we didn’t think to buy another one in Israel because who would’ve thought that we would actually need it. Once we got that we walked another 10 minutes to the Eiffel Tower. There were timed tickets, and we were late, and Tzvi was all worried, and Hallie was kind of being annoying in the stroller, so we don’t actually have a good photo of the three of us in front of the Eifel Tower. Instead we have these which actually aren’t as terrible as we originally thought.
Once we got to the Eifel Tower it actually took us ten minutes to get to the entrance to the elevator, where we found out that the top deck was closed due to wind. Hallie had been very excited for months about her trip to Paris and kept talking about how she was going to the top of the Eifel Tower. We visited the lower observation deck. She thinks she went to the top. Good enough.
The elevator to go up is very cool and more like a tram that you would take up the side of an angled mountain. The views are amazing, but once again, this is the best family photo we could get, because we had to take turns going up to the higher level of the lower observation deck, because my parents had to stay below to watch the stroller.
After the Eiffel Tower my parents went back to their hotel to get ready for dinner and the three of us went across the street to a carousel that Hallie was actually able to spot from the top of the tower (“I want to go to the horsies!”). She went around once and loved it. Watching her on there you’d never know she was sick. When she was done we waited a few minutes to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle at 7 PM and then got an Uber back to the hotel.
Our room is a junior suite, with a king sized bed and a sofa that opens to at least a queen. It’s fairly spacious with really high ceilings and windows that open out onto the street with just enough space for one person to stand outside. The bathroom is also nice with a big tub, a separate shower and a toilet room, though for some reason the doors to the shower and toilet close ridiculously loud.
Once back, Hallie said she wanted pizza so we ordered one from room service, as well as some fruit. Then we took her temperature again and it was up to 102 degrees, so that was pretty awesome. I have to say, the day could’ve been a lot worse. Despite the sickness we still did basically everything we had planned. Of course the pizza arrived and Hallie wouldn’t touch it. She decided she didn’t like it without even trying it. Tzvi and I ate half of it though – it was actually pretty good – and then my parents came back from dinner, my mother came to watch Hallie, and Tzvi and I left for our own dinner.
That’s right. A 102 degree fever wasn’t stopping us from going out to dinner. We took an Uber to Kavod, a kosher restaurant about 10 minutes from our hotel. When we got to the restaurant we found guards armed with M16s outside; we later found out that they were guarding the Israeli embassy across the street. We were exhausted, and pretty full, but we were getting our one meal alone of the trip.
The restaurant was pretty nice with modern décor and had a pretty good crowd for 9:30 PM on a Sunday night. It seemed to be mostly French Jews with one American family. Our waiter, who we think was probably the owner, talked Tzvi into trying the foie gras. He had never had it and started asking questions, and the waiter told him since he is in France he has to try it and that he would teach Tzvi how to eat it properly. When I asked if it’s like a pate he said the French get very offended when you compare foie gras to pate. Oops. We also got a half bottle of French wine (I think it was a beaujolais), because, as our waiter told us, “you are in France, why not take something local?”
For an appetizer, I had a “chicken bruschetta,” which was basically like a chicken sandwich. It was all very good, but it was just so much food. Tzvi got his foie gras and the waiter explained that to eat it you first have to cut a slice with the fork facing the end of the piece of foie gras, and then you put the entire slice on the bread – you never spread it. You spread pate, but not foie gras. Then you put the jelly on top (he had like a pomegranate jelly type thing). We both tried it. Tzvi loved it and finished the whole plate. I thought it was weird. It almost tasted like peanut butter and jelly.
For our mains I had the veal short rib and Tzvi had a veal chop, because the waiter told us “in France we do egel differently than in Israel.” Both were very good. Mine came with cauliflower that had been pureed and then deep fried. Really interesting and tasty.
(there’s a veal chop hidden under there)
We were so stuffed so we skipped dessert. I think we’ve just had too much meat on this trip. It was actually difficult getting the veal down, but don’t worry, Tzvi finished his entire chop. When we were done we spoke to the waiter for a little while about Jewish life in France. We started talking because he came over to say while we are in Paris, don’t wear “that” so much (pointing to Tzvi’s kippa). He basically told us that there are anti-Semitic things that happen every day, but the Muslims are careful not to do such big attacks because they know the Jews will fight back. He said the Jews are not afraid, but they know that in 10-15 years there will be no more Jews in France. He said he’s already sent his kids away; he has one kid in Tel Aviv University and one in Montreal. It’s very sad.
After that we Ubered back to the hotel and went to sleep.
What a day.
