The Reformation...of Our Plans

     Today we headed for Geneva Switzerland, which was only 2 1/2 hours from Grenoble.  Since Jeannie was overseeing Marc's heavy load of final exams, we thought it would be a good day to head to the Reformation museum. Jean-Luc had given it such glowing reviews, and I had also read about it in travel guides.  It had many innovative interactive displays which helped one navigate the many aspects of the movement...the Reform-ation of the Church.
     This move from human laws imposed by the Catholic Church to the laws and precepts of Scripture Alone "Sola Scriptura" was spurred on in Germany by Martin Luther.  Formerly a Catholic monk, he never felt forgiven as he sensed his heavy burden of sin day by day.  Martin couldn't do enough to merit the love and forgiveness of Christ.  Until one day, he read in Galatians 2:16 "nevertheless knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the Law, but through faith in Jesus Christ.  This truth freed him...it was faith in Jesus Christ, and not man's works that brought salvation.
So, armed with history and a few maps Jean-Luc had given us, we reached the pristine city of Geneva.  Again, we walked in circles, until I was brave enough to ask a book shop owner the directions to the museum.  I queried in broken French, and she happily answered clearly in French...along with hand signals. It was just around the corner!
We quickly went on our way, reaching what truly looked like a Reformation like building.  Even the doors resembled the place in Wittenburg where Luther posted his 95 theses clearly outlining his beliefs.  As I pulled on the iron handles, the door did not budge. "Maybe they are on lunch break" I mused.  There was a sign to the right of the door written in French, of course, that revealed the problem:  the museum was closed on Mondays.  What a huge let down.

     So, we did the next best thing, and visited the Reformation wall in a park nearby after lunch.  Four men from history are carved from the stone: Guillaume Farel (first to preach the Reformation in Geneva) John Calvin (leader of the Reformation movement and spiritual father of Geneva) Theodore Beza (French, Calvin's successor who emphasized Calvin's doctrine of predestination) and John Knox (Scottish preacher, friend of Calvin, and founder of Presbyterianism in Scotland.)  It's interesting to note that these Reformers did not look kindly on statues in their day!  Above the statues is the Motto: Post Tenebras Lux or "After Darkness, Light".  Martin Luther is featured in a less prominent spot, due to the disagreements he had with Calvin on points of doctrine.

     The gardens surrounding the wall were alive with brightly colored orange poppies, and other flowers in purple and blue that added a contrast to the mix.  We decided to do a bit of window shopping in Geneva, since we had extra time on our hands, and made a visit to the waterfront that I remembered as a young teen.  My Mother and I toured Geneva many years ago together, and this lake was my grand memory of this politically neutral country.  It was almost, but not quite as grand, but certainly as clean as I remembered.  Not a piece of stray paper on the street, no grafitti on the walls, no homeless on the streets.
Before we went to dinner, we stopped at a chocolate shoppe, hoping to pick up something to satisfy our sweet tooths after our meal.  We wondered if it would keep a few hours in the heat, so Dan thought I should ask the shop keeper in English instead of French (I loved the challenge), because it was such a complicated question.  So, I asked the woman, "Parlez-vous Anglais?"  She replied with a smile, "Oui, mais vous parlez bien Francais...vous parlez en Francais"!  How wonderful it was to be told by a Swiss woman that I spoke "beautiful French", or "spoke it well".  I was on cloud 9!!  Each day I used the little French I knew, I learned a few more words to use the next day.  It was a shame that we had to leave in two days.  So, I explained my complicated question in short phrases, she understood, and answered me in French.  Yes, indeed, the chocolate would keep since in was covered with a special coat that would not melt in one's hand in the heat.  We made our purchase, and left to find a restaurant.
     Soon, we found a lovely outdoor cafe´ and in no time, were savoring a tasty meal.  Mario at one point, wanted more butter for our bread, so I encouraged him to ask one of the waiters in French.  He was good at doing that.  I instructed him to ask for "beurre", but, when he did, the three male waiters listening said, "Beer?" "Why would a young boy want beer (bier)?"  "You mean butter (beurre)"!  They laughed, and gave him what he asked for, but Mario was humiliated, and it showed when he arrived back at the table.  It discouraged him from speaking French for awhile, but we talked about the "faux-pas" for months.

We headed home to Grenoble, and all but Jean-Luc were in bed at 10pm when we arrived.  The re-formation of our touring plans didn't turn out so badly after all.

The Hottest Spot in Europe...

I awoke early, with the sun peeking through the shutters on the lower level.  After I had dressed, I walked upstairs, and was greeted by fresh mountain air, a warm breeze, and morning sunlight.  Our friend's home had floor to ceiling shutters instead of screens that were closed at night for security, and opened each morning to allow God's beautiful world to enter.  What a delight!  I wanted to savor this moment for a long time.  Since Olivia was up as well, we both sat on the porch and had our devotions as we breathed in the morning.  Today was Sunday, and we were all headed into Grenoble to attend worship service at the Tabailloux family's Brethren chapel.  Olivia and I drove with Jeannie, and since we had an errand to run, arrived a bit late.  The sanctuary was packed full of folks wanting to hear the Word of God, and sing His praises...how refreshing!  Jean-Luc had already begun the service, so the three of us sat towards the back.
I listened carefully, as my memory of French vocabulary was a bit rusty, but I was amazed at how much I did remember.  Jeanne was very patient as I would ask her to translate a word here and there.  After the service, we met many friends of the family, who were very friendly and again,

 patient with me as I tried to communicate in French.
We were soon on our way for a quick picnic lunch on the front lawn of their coffee house ministry "Le Feu"(fire) which reaches out to the university students nearby (Grenoble is a Uni town).  It happened to be the hottest day of the year so far, and, Grenoble was the hottest spot in all of Europe that day...we were all dripping!
Jeannie was mentioning various options to occupy our time for the remainder of the afternoon, so, because it was so hot, we decided to explore the deep caves in a nearby town.  As we parked and walked towards the caves, we could feel the cool breeze, which was most welcome.  Families were picnicking, scattered around a stream below the cave entrance, enjoying the cool air as well.  We purchased tickets, and then gathered at the mouth of the cave to begin the tour.  We wound in and out of narrow passageways, watching our steps, as the rocks below us were slippery.  At times, it became claustrophobic, and we were barely able to squeeze through.  Later on, we reached an enormous open cavern, and when we had all assembled, the tour guide turned off the lights.  I don't think any of us knew what pitch blackness meant until that moment.  It was almost tangible!  The tour returned to the entrance, and as we exited, the heat of the day enveloped us once more.
The four of us had our photo taken in the foreground of an ancient aqueduct, still in use.  You could almost see the sweat on our faces!

We headed home, and had a lovely meal on the Tabailloux patio.  The Alps were magnificent...what a view!  Their home is situated in such a picturesque spot.  One would feel as though they were always on vacation here.  The photo at the top, a view of the Tabailloux home, shows a hang glider that has launched from the top of the mountain ridge above.  Jeannie enjoys watching them from her kitchen window, but, it has been a sad event in the past, when, about once a year, someone falls to their death.  A story is told of a father who was teaching his son to hang glide, and as they left the launching area, and were airborne, realized that he had forgotten to strap himself in.  Evidently at that point, there were only two options...they would both fall to their death, or, he would need to let go.  Briefing his young teenage son as to landing maneuvers, he sacrificed his own life, and let go.  How much like our Savior, who gave His own life for us!
We enjoyed our fellowship and meal in the cooler early evening
air; Jean-Luc and Jeannie and family have made us feel so welcomed and at home...we will hate to part with them.

Vieux-Lyon et Soie

Old Lyon and silk...or was it old silk and Lyon?
We headed south to historic Lyon, and once we arrived, drove around and around the town trying to find the tourist office.  We could see the sign pointing to it, but, not the building.  How frustrating!  The rumors are true; it's impossible to find anything in Lyon.  So, we parked first, then walked up to the street level.  Voila!  There it was.  But, unfortunately, it was closed.
Thankfully, I had brought our Frommer's Guide to Lyon, which included a walking tour of this ancient city.  We ambled on to the old part of the city, Vieux Lyon, which had been around since Medieval times, and located the oldest street...identifiable by the cobblestone streets and brick walls surrounding us.

Here are Dan and the kids on this old Medieval street, looking for something or other in the drain.  Mario had the knack of finding money on the street wherever he went.  Lyon was no exception.  About a half hour before, he had found a 10 euro note (about $15) on a busy thoroughfare!  So, here he is again, searching for what he thought was a coin.  No luck this time! Maybe he was hoping that one of the King Louis the "something or other" might have dropped a coin a few centuries ago.
The main reason I wanted to stop here was to visit the 'traboules' or passageways created specifically for the silk traders as they transferred their goods from one street to the next in the rain.  Water is not a friend of silk, so they had to protect it at all costs in inclement weather.
Marie Antoinette was said to have been given stockings from Lyon when she arrived in Paris from (what is now) Austria, to meet her future husband, Louis XVI.  Poor girl; she was not allowed to bring anything along from her old life, so, she was provided with an entirely new wardrobe upon entry.  Literally, a complete change at the border.  Only french fashion and materials would do for this princess!

Now, on to the traboules or walkways.  Evidently, the tenants in the flats off the courtyards to which these traboules lead, are willing to open the doors or gates on the weekends to curious tourists.  We were four such tourists, so, when we rang the bell outside the entryway and, voila, a buzzer sounded, and we were given entrance.  Talk about making ourselves at home.  We could have woven in and out of these passageways for hours, but it was time to have dinner, and then head for Grenoble.
Lyon is also known for it's cuisine, which is second to Paris.  So, we had a lovely meal at an outside cafe´, and, although it was a highlight, nothing could compare to the excitement we felt as we saw our waitress intently reading a tract we had given her (with a tip) moments before.  She was hungry for good news.
On our way to the car, we found a delightful old corner silk shop, "Soierie Saint-Georges. It had been there for years, and had a small loom in the back, from which the owner was giving a demonstration.  In the front of the store was a small display of lovely silk scarves, some with patterns, and others woven in such a way that it caused the fabric to shimmer and change color, almost like a chameleon.  I chose to purchase the latter, which were truly unique.
Since we were to fly out of Grenoble/Lyon back to London in three days, we decided to drive straight to the Hertz office at "la gare d'St Martin" or bus/train station to drop off our car after hours, and meet Jeannie.  What a fiasco!  We couldn't find the station, Jeannie couldn't find us, she didn't have a cell phone, we did. So we called her home.  Marc said that she would meet us at the Europarc next to the station.  Again we road around and around.  It seems as tho' the street signs lead nowhere!  Finally, we drove down the ramp to the underground lot, and after parking, we dragged our luggage towards the Hertz office.  There were Jeannie and Luc waiting for us with their SUV.  Thank the Lord!
But, our adventure was not over yet...we loaded our suitcases into their vehicle, and headed up to drop off the key.  Well, we found the office, but, unfortunately, we needed the license number of the car we had rented, so off Jeannie and Dan went, back down to the garage, while the rest of us looked for a toilet.
  Getting the necessary information, they came up, we reunited, dropped off the key, and headed back to the Tabailloux vehicle.  Whew!  (Not so fast...)  We walked to the very door we came out of as we headed up from the underground lot, but it was locked.  So, again (does this sound repetitious?)  we walked around and around, until we located another door that lead us to the car.  We packed ourselves in, and took off for "home."  Jean-Luc had just arrived via train from a week long Brethren conference north of Paris.  It was good to see him again, and meet the "other twin" Marc, a dental tech, who had been the go between on the phone earlier that day.
We settled into our rooms (the twins graciously offered us theirs), and had a lovely quiche dinner around 8:30pm.  It was still bright as day...the sun didn't set until 10pm.  What a breathtaking view of the Alps we had.  They surrounded us like a giant hug.  Bonne Nuit!  

  
P.S. A funny thing happened to us on the way to Grenoble.  We stopped at a tollbooth to pay our fee, but only an automated machine was available.  Swiping our toll card given us at the beginning of our journey, we dropped what we figured was the correct amount into the slot as directed, but the coins continued to be rejected.  We thought it might be damaged coins, so we tried others.  Over and over again we dropped them in the slot, with no result, until a muffled voice began giving directions in French via a microphone.  It was difficult to tell if the person was live at another location, or, if it was a recording.  We listen carefully, but could not decipher the directions, so, we continued to feed the hungry machine.  Abruptly, the coins were accepted, and we heard a loud musical "ta-da" from the speaker...at which point we laughed hysterically for 30 seconds.  If the guard heard us, he would have pronounced us insane!  We still to this day relish telling that story over and over again.

Through the French Countryside

Mario and I awoke early, and spent some time exploring the grounds of the Chateau de Jonvilliers.  The dew on the grass sparkled, and everything took on an ethereal glow.  It was a treat to sit out on a chaise lounge and have my devotions! We had a lovely extended continental breakfast with croissants, jam, nutella, yogurt, cereal, coffee and tea.  Virginie chatted about her family (who owned this chateau for over 50 years) and revealed the secret to navigating the French countryside.  When coming to an etoile (star) or rotary, keep driving around until you see a sign for the next town in the direction your are headed. Veer right and head down that road until the next roundabout, where you again take the road to the second town in the chain towards your destination.  Unlike America, where you follow the signs at each intersection that lead you to the major city in which you intend to finally arrive, in France, you watch for the little villages along the way.  No wonder we were puzzled!  There were no signs directing us to Dijon.

We said our goodbyes, and headed for Dijon.  Our next night's lodging would be outside this city, so, armed with navigation tips, we confidently drove forth.  I lead our "troop" via Troyes, where I thought there might be some history to uncover.  Was I pleasantly surprised!  Not only was it involved in the French Revolution, but it was a town influenced culturally (food and architecture) by the border this province (Burgundy) shared with Germany.
We ate lunch at a thoroughly "Allemande" restaurant, that served "andouilles"; sausages made with tripe (cow's stomach) and encased in pig's intestines...Bon Appetit!  I accidentally switched with Dan's meal, and ended up eating them.  I thought they would be unsavory, but I was mistaken.  They were quite good.

We took the slow road after lunch towards Dijon, only to get lost. We attempted to call Chateau  de Longecourt, but couldn't get through.  Just at the right time, after being thoroughly frustrated, we received a call from Andrew, who was in South Africa at the time.  He had offered to let us borrow a spare phone before we left for the mainland... what a surprise to hear from him!  God certainly orchestrated this.  Andrew immediately assessed the problem, and told us how to make a call within France.  After he hung up, we dialed the Chateau, and reached Roland, our host.  He gave us what we thought were clear directions, but we had to retrace our steps twice.  Finally, around 11 pm, we arrived, and with bleary eyes, were greeted by Roland, whose family has owned the Chateau for over 10 generations.

It was as splendid as Versailles, and much smaller, but with a medieval flair...with a moat to boot!  The furnishings would have pleased Louis XVI.  Roland was an artist by trade, and was in the process of painting the small chapel in one turret of the chateau with a faux marble finish.  On one wall, Roland had created a very elaborate and decorative family tree.  Stunning!
At breakfast we were offered scones, juice and very weak tea.  Our host might have been an artist, but he was definitely not a chef.  But, none the less, we enjoyed this most adequate meal.  We bid Roland adieu, and set our course for Lyons.

Ah, Versailles!

I woke up early, so I could make one last trip down Rue de Montorgueil for our croissants...how I will miss that trek!  I never did make it all the way to the bottom of the street to visit the famous patisserie, La Maison Stohrer, where Queen Elizabeth, in 2004, went to shop for the royal family's Easter eggs.  I regretted that I had booked us so tightly for Paris tours of one kind or another (we only had three days), that we had no time to explore on our own.  C'est dommage!

Julien met us again, this time to return our security deposit around 8am, and helped us down the 5 flights of worn wooden steps. In 30 minutes, we were at the Hertz rental office near the Louvre. It took us 45 minutes to complete the transaction, and then we looked for a toilet; non existent in the entire shopping mall! The only possibility was a "toilet boutique" (leave it to the French to make a mundane task fashionable) that charged a high price for its use, which included designer TP! Fortunately, it was closed, so we took off, and coped.

Back entrance to Versailles

 We found the way to Versailles easily, but passed the exit since it was not marked clearly. By the time we found it and parked, it was already 11am. Thankfully, I had purchased tickets ahead of time, as suggested by a friend who visited the previous month. Our line, which snaked around for a block, moved quickly and after a short security check, we were in.
First on the agenda was the WC or Water Closet (toilet for us), and we were off to the Palace.  Because we had so litle time, we did not use the audio tour as much.  I was eager to get to the Petite Trianon: Marie Antoinette's mini palace and peasant village over a mile away.

Marie Antoinette as a young bride

Because the Queen felt hemmed in and smothered at the Grand Palais, she had this smaller version built, along with the village, so she and her children could "play" and enjoy a quieter and simpler life (I understood the need).  Her husband, Louis XVI, rarely visited.  Unfortunately, her courtiers (those that took care of her on a daily basis; helping her bath, choose clothes, dress, organize her day, etc.) had nothing do do while she was away, and began to be suspicious of her.  This did not work to her advantage when the revolution began.

On the way to the peasant village

Of course (back on track) Versailles itself was elaborate, with fine paintings of the royal families, furnishings from around the world, and gorgeous bedding and draperies truly fit for the King and Queen!
We enjoyed a display of clothing for coronations, balls, and religious ceremonies that Royalty of that period (18th century) have worn.

The famous Hall of Mirrors

We decided to take a lunch break, and unfortunately, chose an outdoor cafe´that was short on staff, so it  took over an hour for our meal to arrive.  What a waste of time!
Prior to our meal, as we walked out onto the terrace from the Palace and into the gardens of Versailles, beautiful classical music played with an unknown source, as the fountains "danced" in time.  Delightful!
I felt as tho' I was dressed in a fine french gown, waiting to be met by Marie and her husband, King Louis XVI, who had so cordially invited us to their charming garden party; I wanted to twirl and dance my way to Marie's estate.

We lost time again as we overshot the path to the Petite Trianon, and ended up first at the Grand Trianon; the larger of the two palaces (more like summer homes) on her property.  We quickly toured the  building, and then headed for the smaller, Petite Trianon, where Marie spent hours with her family.  It had lovely grounds, with a grotto, stream, bridge, cupola (for theatrical productions), and farther down the road, a complete peasant village with dairy, mill and other out buildings.  Charming!  But not to the common folk of the day: Marie had an expensive version of a shepherdess costume created so she could play milkmaid.  That dress cost more than an entire year's salary which could feed a family of four!  She truly was clueless about what was going on outside the palace...folks were famished.

The mill in the peasant village

Due to lack of time, I didn't have the opportunity to visit the gift shop to purchase a CD or biography of Marie's life, which would have made a perfect souvenir of our visit to Versailles, and a nice addition to our homeschool collection.  That was very frustrating to me!
But, we had a jolly time looking for our first night's lodging at the Chateau de Jonvilliers, just 44 miles from the Palais.  After taking two trips down the same country road, we finally stopped to uncover a brass address plate that had been hidden behind a vine.  Voila!  This was the place, so we drove through the iron gates, and down the short wooden driveway to our B&B; a three story symmetrical building with tall windows and beautiful grounds.  We met Virginie (who had inherited the Chateau) and her husband Richard (an American) and their two home schooled boys.
We were offered a light but tasty evening meal, and then settled down for a good night's rest.

Chateau de Jonvilliers

Bikes, Gardens and Sages

After another trip down Rue de Montorgueil for croissants, we headed into the center of Paris for another "Fat Tire" bike tour which focused on French Revolution history, the Louvre and it's nearby jardin (garden), otherwise known as the Tuileries.
First stop was the Chappelle de la Invalides, where Napoleon was buried.  During WWII, Hitler visited his hero's tomb, and as he paid hommage to Napoleon, members of the French Resistance hid in the dome directly above.  They had the opportunity to eliminate Hitler right then, but decided against it.  How different World History would have read had they done so!
Next stop was L'Ecole´ Militaire, where Napoleon attended the military academy, and developed his war strategies.  Being short, he did not do well in the infantry branch, so he took up studies in artillery.  He excelled so well, that until Waterloo, he was undefeated during his service as General.
We cycled across one of the many bridges spanning the Seine.  The pont (bridge) de Alexandre III (in honor of the last Czar), is the most photographed and admired in Paris; extremely ornate, being painted in parts with faux d'or (fake gold).

The tour stopped for lunch in the lovely Tuileries, which was welcomed.  It's the law that cyclists must walk their bikes through the garden (approximately 1/4 mile end to end), otherwise, they are knocked off their bicyclettes by the gendarmes (police).  Twice I forgot and rode my bike a short distance before I was sternly warned to dismount!  We watched people stroll, jog, and and enjoy the sun as they sat near the fountains around lunchtime.  What a relaxing sight!

Tuileries Garden with the Louvre in the background

After the tour, we headed for the Eiffel Tower...quelle horror!  By suggestion, we took the Sud (South) leg to go up the tower, only to find that we purchased the "walk up" tickets to the 3eme level, which was really  the 15th floor.  I was exhausted and what was more frustrating was that we could not find a way up to the very top via elevator.  I was so disgusted that I refused to pay the 12.50 euros to take the elevator once we found it.  I was also out of breath, so Olivia and I stayed behind and enjoyed the view.  We kept running into a mother daughter team on our journey up the stairs, and ended up sitting next to them on the observation deck while we waited for the guys.  She was Russian, but spoke a bit of English.  We chatted, and then I gave her a French Gospel tract, which she could read.  It seemed to encourage her, since she was homesick for her homeland.  God works all together for good!

When we finally reached la Terre Ferme (the view was fabulous, no matter what level), the red bus awaited to take us near "Les Deux Magots", a famous cafe´ where literary and artistic characters such as Hemmingway, Sartre, Picasso and St Exupery (The Little Prince) would sit for hours as they worked and chatted.  I thought the translation of the name was strange...the two maggots...who would want to frequent that sort of place?  Well, this is where my knowledge of French failed me.  It made much more sense when I discovered that "Magots" meant "Sages", and not creepy crawlies!
Our waiter reminded me of the food critic in Ratatouille...tall, slender, and balding older man with a sly smile.  He seemed to enjoy serving us, and I relished the idea of ordering my meal "en Francais".
Our main meal was splendid; I had steak tartare (raw ground beef with seasonings).  We all enjoyed dessert w/les boissons chaud: chocolate chaud (very thick) for the kids, and cafe´au lait pour moi!
The cafe´was strong and rich, but not bitter, with warm milk to
                                                                add; almost three cups worth.

Well, we are not sages, but we are two!

We took a few photos, then headed for the Louvre.Wednesday evening was half price, but we had limited time.  So, we hurried to see the Medieval art; The Winged Victory of Samothrace sculpture, the Mona Lisa (behind plexiglass; very small and disappointing), and the original Roman wall over which the present city was built.

Above ground entrance to the Louvre
We closed the place up.  A quick trip to the gift shop, and then we were on our way back to the flat via the Metro.  Our suitcases packed, we took our showers and went to bed, ready for our journey to the Metro station "Le Louvre Carouselle"(hard to find), where our rental car awaited us.  Au revoir, Paris, Bonjour French countryside; we are on our way south via Versailles!

Personal Tour de Paris

I got up early this morning to visit the Rue de Montorgueil,one of the oldest and longest pedestrian market streets, dating back to the Medieval times.  Boulangeries,(bread shop) Patisseries, Boucheries (butcher)...whatever delights the palete!  The shopkeepers were just "opening shop"; raising  the doors, hosing down the streets, and rolling out the produce carts.  The street came alive before my very eyes.
I had read in Fodor's guide book to Paris, that a visitor must announce herself as she walks in a shop, to no one in particular, even if there are none to listen to your polite greeting of "Bonjour".  That made all the difference!  Everyone was my friend now.   I was able to order our croissants at the Patisserie (pastry shop), and make a query about a certain type of cheese for our 'petite dejeuner' (breakfast) at the 'Frommagerie' (cheese shop)for our breakfast.  It mattered not that I used imperfect French.  They understood, and delivered!  I wanted to walk down to the end of the street, which was blocks long, to drink in the sights, and savor the smells of the past. But, alas, I had not the time.  Hungry mouths were waiting at our "revolutionary" flat.
We headed out after breakfast to locate "les cars rouges" (red bus line) that travelled in a circuit, hitting most of the monuments and historical sites.  It took us half way to Les Bateaux aux Parisianne  a flat bottom tour boat that meandered down the Seine.  A guide kept us informed with his commentary, as we drank in the scenes before us.  After a lunch, of again, those savory crepes from a street vendor; we searched for "Les Egouts"  or, the sewers, where Jean Val Jean carried his soon to be son in law to safety in Les Miserables.  It was dark and dank, but it certainly gave us a feel of what it would have been like during the French Revolution. Dumas, the author of the novel, actually knew the architect of the sewer project, and thus had first hand knowledge.

Then, on to a completely different piece of property.  Ile de St Louis, or, the Island of St. Louis, is known to be the highest price real estate in all of Paris.  Of course, the elite own homes on that small plot of land.  The ice-cream (glace´)shop, Berthillions, is located there, known for their famous recipe which is made fresh each day.  

At night, we met at the Eiffel Tower for a "Fat Tire" tour of Paris at night.  That's right, a bike tour on the busy Paris streets.  What will those crazy Americans do next??  We wove in and out of traffic, around the Louvre Museum complex, across to Notre Dame, and, on the way to the Bateaux again, watched the Eiffel Tower shimmer and sparkle.   A feat that is accomplished every hour on the hour.Paris is truly a beautiful city of lights...details of buildings jump out at you.  C'est magnifique!