#Babysfirstbaguette - Paris, France - February 2017

I'm pretty sure that I'm not an aspiring "Mommy Blogger". However, you be the judge of the results. 

You know those price alerts spamming your inbox that last only one day and you have to travel during an inconvenient specific window? $450 round trip, direct: MSP → CDG. Done.

Now that #Shirleywinterwalkabout2017 was in the works, we waited until about a week before departure to plan. Booked an Airbnb in the center of Paris (1st Arrondissement) that had a washing machine and appeared to be somewhat baby friendly. We rented a "cot" (pack n' play) for Kit and had it delivered to the flat (European for "apartment") the day we arrived. 

We didn't pack much, relying on layers and the opportunity to do laundry at the flat. 
Our stuff partially filled two backpacking packs and a day pack. One space saver was leaving the cloth diapers at home. We arrived at this decision after many heated debates, ultimately deciding to use disposables because the flat only had a washing machine, not a dryer.

Our intention was to stay centrally located so we would be near attractions and restaurants that interested us and could easily return to the flat throughout the day for naps and rests as needed... we weren't really sure how Kit was going to do, so our ambitions were limited to taking in good food, wine, coffee and art. 

The journey started with a 5-hour drive from our place to the airport in Minneapolis. We stopped for lunch at our favorite Duluth restaurant, At Sarah's Table. Kit napped on the drive and everyone was in good spirits.

 As we checked in for the flight we again requested a bassinet for Kit (9 months old). (I requested that bassinet on no less than 4 prior occasions. To compete with budget airlines, Delta has created a new fare class, Basic Economy, that does not allow you to select your seats in advance. Because we obviously chose to save the 50 bucks, I decided to call Delta on several occasions to a) request the bassinet...again and b) to request seats along the edge of the 2-4-2 configured plane. I finally convinced them to reserve the seats for us, and I now thoroughly understand that the bassinet decision is made by the gate agents.)

When we got to the gate, we were informed by the agent that there were three babies on the plane, and the single bassinet was going to the youngest. Kit was second. Bummer.

But!

The flight was not full, so the agent offered us our own row of four seats to ourselves. I was a little sad to miss out on a window seat, but the extra space was worth the sacrifice, Clare assured me.

I made fast friends with the guy sitting across the aisle from me when he ordered a craft beer and a shot of whisky. I copied his order and we got to chatting. Turns out he was the owner of the Telluride Distilling Company and knew two Sawbill crew members who winter in Telluride. 

The flight was about 7 hours. Kit did great and I did great. No crying and slept a decent amount. Clare did pretty good, too, taking care of the baby and the overtired drunk lightweight. 

The plane landed at 7:30 am Paris time. We collected our bags, smiled brightly (but not a stupid fake Trump smile) for the immigration officer and made our way to the train depot below the airport. (Clare note: the immigration officer was very sweet when she found out she was the first one to stamp Kit's baby passport.)

We brought an umbrella stroller for Kit, but have never had her in a stroller before. Being a little unsure how it would go, we opted to carry her through the airport in the BabyBjorn (when I say "we" I mean Clare). It was a fairly long walk to get to the train depot through the massive Charles de Gaulle airport. I carried my backpacking pack on my back, Clare's on my front, the stroller folded and slung over my shoulder. Clare had a small pack on her back and Kit on her front.

A fortuitous and timely untied shoe lace had us stop after about 10 minutes of walking.  When we got going again, I was pushing the stroller with Clare's pack in it. Duh!

While we tend not to heavily plan our trips, we have learned that understanding how to get from where you land to where you need to go makes sense to do in advance. We knew what train we needed to take (RER B), so all we had to do was find tickets and where to board. We were at our stop half hour later and after a short wander through the streets, in to our apartment. We were met by our host, Valentine, who was a very friendly fellow.

We all napped while waiting for Kit's cot to be delivered. Afterwards, we went for lunch at La Fresque, a funky, authentic little place close-by that Valentine recommended. After lunch, we went for a walk, strolling across the Seine and finding a few groceries. Bed time came early this evening.

This was the hardest night for Kit. Not only was her internal clock thrown off, the apartment suffered from light pollution and different noises. (Kit is accustomed to absolute darkness and a silent Wilderness out her window, so it doesn't take much to adulterate her sleep situation.) We also didn't have our exercise ball to bounce her on. She ultimately slept, and so did we. The remainder of the week, we (unintentionally) relied on sleep deprivation to ensure an easy bed time routine.

The forecast called for rain the next few days, so we decided we would beat the weather by visiting museums. In the morning, we optimistically attempted to grab breakfast at a popular joint on the way to the Louvre. Turns out we weren't very committed, so decided to grab a croissant and cappuccino to go instead of waiting in line outside in the rain. When we got to the Louvre, we faced another long line - the sign said two hours from where we stood, so our commitment was again overcome.

Plan B took us to one of Paris' many covered walking malls. Because it was relatively early, most places were closed, so we did some window shopping and worked up our appetites.

Rue Montorgueil is lined with restaurants and shops filled with culinary delights. We cozied up to one of the many sidewalk cafes, under a sprawling canopy complete with overhead space heaters. Paris is very dedicated to sidewalk sitting, as this was the middle of winter.  

Moments later we had a bottle of rosé and a plate of foie gras with fresh bread and jam. (I know, we should have been drinking sweet wine with the fois gras, but it slipped our minds!) We followed the appetizer with rich risotto and a salad topped with a giant disk of fried cheese, garnished with fried potatoe slices. A shot of espresso and we were off. 

Next stops included bakery (baguette) and cheese shop (aged gouda) before heading back to the flat to relax. (Side note: I always pronounce gouda "gooda" because I'm a North American and self-conscious about saying "howda". Well, I figured anonymous in Paris was a good opportunity to let a "howda" fly, and the cheese lady came back at me "gooda"? ahhh!)

We relaxed back at the flat, napping, hanging out, and then gorging on bread. Fortified by carbs, we decided to visit the arc de triomph that evening. The rain had abated and we were on a roll. 

We navigated the metro directly to the arc, passed through the metal detector, left the stroller at the gate and climbed the stairs to the top. We enjoyed amazing views of the Eiffel Tower, and the bustle below. The famous Champs Eulysees, along with 5 other main roads, intersect at the base of the arc in a giant controlled chaos roundabout. 

We strolled down Champs Eulysees, people watching, and window shopping. We finally ended up back in our neighborhood around 9:30 pm. It being the beginning of the trip, we optimistically went out to dinner at la Fresque. Kit was a little restless, so we opted to sit outside under the deserted space heaters, much to the surprise of the restaurant staff. The extra space to juggle Kit was worth the lack of warmth.

Sunday morning took us to Museo d'Orsay, an art museum housed in a cavernous former train station. Again, there was a line, but we were spotted by a staff member and were fast tracked to the front due to the stroller status. Once we were passed the metal detectors, we realized that it was free admission day! The first Sunday of each month, many Paris museums offer free admittance. (Had we known, we probably wouldn't have gone in order to avoid the crowds, but we were happy to save the cash!)

Our coats and backpack were checked into the cloakerie then we hoofed it up to the fifth floor, me holding the stroller handles, Clare holding the front, Kit grunting encouragement. We had been told that the little cafe up there was decent with a charming atmosphere situated behind the large exterior clock. A little peckish, we headed that way. The waiter was a dick, the only time we had that experience on the trip. 

The museum had a variety of Van Gogh’s and Monet’s along with a rich sculpture collection. Notable was one of three "The Bedroom" paintings by Van Gogh (the other two are in Amsterdam and Chicago) and a replica of the Statue of Liberty (by the original sculptor.) 

Next, it was off to eclair genie for some seriously delicious (expensive!) artisanal eclairs. They were equally appealing to the eye as they were the tongue. Another baguette and cheese acquisition and it was back to the flat for a rest and to let Kit move around. 

That evening, we packaged up, jumped on the metro and headed out for some Udon. Listed in the Michelin guide and recommended by friends, Sanukiya was our destination. It is a hole in the wall, primarily with counter seating. No reservations, and the line was about an hour long when we arrived. Despite some light mist that came and went, we stuck it out. When we finally made it to the front of the line and were called in, whisked to our counter seats, we shoved the folded-up stroller and our stuff underneath. 

Our strategy was to pass Kit back and forth every several bites. Holding a grabby baby and eating hot slurpy soup are not particularly compatible. The staff helped a lot in keeping her happy, constantly waving and smiling at her over our shoulder. The food was great too. 

In the morning, we got breakfast at le pain quotidian (a Belgian coffee, bakery chain introduced to us in Amsterdam) then went for our redemption round at the Louvre. On this day, there was absolutely no line, so we immediately entered the iconic glass pyramid situated in the courtyard of the U-shaped museum and dropped down into the massive foyer. Again, coats and bag to the cloakerie and into the maze of 300 masterpieces (among thousands of pieces.) 

We went straight to the main attraction. Making our way up several stone stairways, through room after room with art covered walls we arrived at the famed Mona Lisa. Predictably, there was a large crowd huddled around the small painting, solitary mounted on a large stone wall. Having seen several famous paintings now, it never fails that the crowd of admirers’ clamber to take pictures of the painting and not necessarily with them in it. They nudge you out so they can get their iPhone up there for a great view. Don't these people realize that there are a million photos of these paintings available online and they don't need to waste their moment with the original by annoying everyone with their self-important need for a shitty cellphone picture of it???????

As I mentioned, the Louvre boasts 300 masterpieces so there was no shortage of spectacular pieces to take in. I particularly enjoy the Renaissance era paintings for their epic size, detail and endurance of time. I like to imagine the journey the painting has been on over the hundreds of years from the time the artist was messy in its creation to its mounting on this wall.

Sometimes the really popular attractions are popular for a reason. The Louvre is amazing and I would recommend it and if I'm in Paris again with free time, I might even go back.

A quick stop at a cheese shop to re-supply and a bottle of wine and it was back to the flat to chill for the afternoon.

That evening, we went to Pirouette, a Michelin guide place right around the corner and recommended by our host. We arrived right at the 7pm opening time without a reservation. The restaurant was slow as we walked in with baby in the stroller. They gave us a look over and hesitantly agreed they had a table available. There was space for the stroller to sit next to the table so Kit could hang out there. 

We opted for the 3-course prix fixe menu. Kit was not thrilled with our choice, so we tried to jolly her as we waited for the various courses. Her first trick was to grab my phone and throw it on the floor. Then, she nearly swiped my full crystal wine glass. When our entrees came, she settled into her stroller as I fed her a mysterious orange puree (probably sweet potatoes +) with the butt end of my knife.  

This seemed to ease her anxiety, so she decided it was a good time to take her first poop since we left home. Now Clare and I became quite antsy as we still were waiting on our dessert course and we knew we had a potential disaster on our hands. Clare ate her dessert very quickly and then whisked Kit back to the flat leaving me there alone to finish mine and the wine, next to the empty stroller. (Clare note: At the start of the fancy meal Dan said to Kit "The three worst things you could do would be scream, knock something over, and throw something." After doing all three, she pooped. "That was the fourth thing, I just didn't even want to say it." Despite the quadruple threat, this was a delicious and hilarious meal all around.)

The morning brought us a new vigor. The weather was nice and we were eager to leave the museum scene behind and hit the streets. We headed to the Le Marais neighborhood, home to hip and trendy shopping, restaurants and vibes. Our first stop was a window for falafel sandwiches. Next, we window shopped and popped into concept stores and second hand shops including Merci, a highly diverse ala ikea but boutique multilevel place. We stocked up on chocolate and caramels at chocolatier Jacque Genin. On our journey, we were surprised to see Minnesota companies so well represented - Red Wing Shoes, Minnetonka Moccasins, and Epicurean utensils. 

That night, we headed back to Rue Montrogueil for savory crepes and beer after the fondue place had a long wait. We also received another lesson that late night dinners are not the most enjoyable with a tired baby. We decided that we should be visiting the restaurants that interest us for a late lunch.

With this new M.O. the next morning we headed out of the city center to a highly regarded Swiss fondue place for lunch. It was spacious and not crowded. And because it was a 45-minute adventure to get there, Kit was sound asleep in her stroller most of the meal.

We opted for the "raclette" over the fondue. Raclette is basically half of a cheese wheel skewered on a stand with a heating element positioned close to the cut edge. As the cheese melts, you scrape the runny goo off the wheel with a special knife onto your plate you have prepared with boiled potatoes, charcuterie, bread and pickles. As we worked through this meal, I regretted to realize that my fondness for melted cheese appeared to have limits. Needless to say, we did not eat all 5 pounds of cheese (nor does anybody, according to the waiter). I expect to have a redemption round with this dish since my sister has newly moved to Switzerland. I promise to order the mildest cheese next time in order to maximize consumption. Kit didn't care for it. Much to learn. 

Back in the city center, we popped into the Notre Dame. I regret to say we didn't observe Quasimodo, but we were wowed by the magnificent stained glass. It is an impressive building, indeed, but I couldn't help having my disdain for the catholic church bubble to the surface as we wondered through. I could only imagine the unholy things that have taken place there.

That late afternoon, we made our way up the many steps to the Sacre Coeur, another famous catholic church, perched on the highest point in Paris. Armed with a bottle of champagne and a box of macaroons, we took in the sunset overlooking the city, admiring the Eiffel tower once again. 

Dinner that evening was bread (and somehow) cheese and wine back at the apartment. 

The next morning, we hoisted the stroller over the turnstiles, carried it down the stairs, rode the escalator into the metro station, minded the gap, and boarded heading out of the city center. We were in search of our new favorite souvenir, one we discovered in Istanbul last winter. Clare had made an appointment, so the gals at the salon were waiting for us. After growing out her hair during pregnancy and Kit's first year, it was time to for a change. Clare has worn a pixie cut the whole time I’ve known her, and I was excited for her to return to that style.

Kit and I crawled around the salon while they cut and styled Clare's hair. It turned out great and she is as hot as ever. 

Armed with a recommendation from a US expat also at the salon, we headed back to Le Marais for lunch. Given our luck, the place was closed for a week for maintenance, so we hit a well-known creperie in the neighborhood. We devoured the savory morsels alongside a carafe of hard cider. Obviously, we left room for chocolate covered crepes for dessert.

We picked up a bottle of olive oil and a jar of fois gras on our way back to the apartment. 

After our afternoon routine of nap, cheese, bread, wine, crawl around, we tempted fate with another late dinner. After having amazing Indonesian food in Amsterdam last year, we thought we'd give the Paris version a shot. We both ordered a "rice table" a series of small plates. It was OK, but nothing special. When we settled up the bill, the owner or manager asked us if we had ever had Indonesian before. We replied that we had in Amsterdam, and she simply returned a knowing look. 

Our trip was winding down, so we got up earlyish to take advantage of our last full day. I ventured out to grab us croissants and fruit for breakfast, then we metro-ed to the Paris Catacombs. We stood in line for about 30 minutes, but made little progress, so we bailed. 

We got ice cream for lunch and then went wine shopping. We popped into a wine store we had passed by numerous times over the week. The attendant got us into 4 bottles, two Bordeaux’s, a white and a rose. It was only like $40.

Clare dropped Kit and I off at the apartment and then headed out solo to do some more shopping. 

Upon her return, we packed our bags. They were full, now, after all of our yummy acquisitions. 

Feeling like we were not quite done with Paris, at about 6pm, we headed back out to visit the Pompidou Modern Art Center. It was just down the street from the apartment, so we walked passed the striking building daily. All of the HVAC ducts and piping for the 6-story building are on the exterior, painted blue and red. It looks like a giant transformer. 

The museum stays open til 10 on weekends, and since it was Friday we were in luck. There were hardly any other people there, so we got right in. 

There was a special Cy Twombly exhibit on the top floor, so we took the escalator, housed in a tube on the exterior of the building, up to the top, enjoying the view. The exhibit was bizarre and captivating. One of my favorite parts of the trip.

We then meandered through the remaining floors and the displays of Picasso, Jackson Pollock and many other creators of mind bending art. Kit was a trooper, riding in her stroller for a while, then in the Baby Bjorn on my chest where she napped as we admired the eclectic art. 

To cap the night, it was only fitting that we visit our favorite little restaurant, La Fresque one last time. We drank a bottle of wine, ate foie gras and other French delights. They even put a candle on our dessert for Kit. Although it wasn't her birthday (she actually turned 9 months while on the trip) it was a cute gesture. 

We had to rise early in the morning and head back to the airport. We took the train, doing the reverse of our arrival. 

The plane ride was 9.5 hours long plus an additional hour prior to takeoff. It was a full flight, so no extra space. Tack on the 5-hour drive from Minneapolis and we were home. (Clare note: Nobody cried!)

It was a fantastic trip. Traveling with our infant really didn't change things much from how Clare and I would have done things alone. The only real hardship was getting through the late dinner times and juggling Kit while out and about since she couldn't walk. It was a success and we are looking forward to our next family trip.