After breakfast my group set off on the Metro for a scenic stroll through the Tuileries Garden before venturing into Musee d'Orsay to visit Monet, Renoir, and Degas with our expert tour guide, Malcolm. The d'Orsay, a converted railway station, was much more accessible (less artwork, less crowded) than the previous day's Louvre, but I sat down (having learned earlier in the trip to pace myself for jam-packed tour days) and snuck bites of a granola bar and sips of water when I could.
Outside the d'Orsay, Louis - ultra-cool, slightly-intimidating, quintessential Frenchman Louis - gave me an unexpected compliment. He said I was doing Paris well and right. Even though I was much younger than my tour mates, I'd managed to fit in while still maintaining my independence. He applauded me for being a fast learner, and though I didn't say much, I was absorbing everything and adapting as needed. I thanked him sincerely, and told him I loved Paris and felt more alive during my week there that I had in several previous years at home.
After d'Orsay we trekked on foot to the nearby Musee Rodin, where the group thinned, leaving only me, Edna, Lisa, Nanette, Anne, and Dave. We started with lunch in the outdoor cafe, where I savored an exceptional meal - truly one of the best among many in Paris - of a vegetarian quiche, salad, cafe creme, and an incredible raspberry tart, all served a la carte from a cafeteria-type establishment (removing any remaining doubt that Parisians take their food - all of their food - seriously). Having been satisfactorily nourished, I took in the peaceful, uncrowded outdoor sculpture garden (which has insightful artist information posted on intermittent trees) and found the Kiss and the Thinker inside the extravagant indoor museum, a former hotel.
We left shortly after 3 p.m. for a shopping expedition in the Marais. I was on the lookout for an inexpensive piece of souvenir jewelry, and I knew this might be my best - and last - opportunity to find one. I lucked out in Monoprix, a French department store similar to a Macy's or Kohl's, where I found a wide silver ring for seven euros. My debit card was puzzlingly and embarrasingly declined at checkout, though I - thankfully - had ten euros stashed away to cover the cost. (Fortunately that didn't happen again in Paris or anywhere else.)
I returned to the hotel exhausted after shopping and collapsed on my bed. As is often the case, I didn't realize how exhausted I was (and how sore my feet were) until I stopped moving. I was just about to call Lisa about dinner when she texted me that she and Nanette were off to a jazz club for dinner. I understood, of course, but I was disappointed not to be invited.
I proceeded instead with my plans for an authentic Parisian crepe, setting off down the street to Le Paradis, a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop where I walked to the counter and somehow managed to order a poulet fromage panini and chocolate (no caramel) crepe. The young male employee helped me by speaking some English. (His middle-aged female coworker, however, spoke none.) My efforts were rewarded with a delicious meal - a huge, sub-sized sandwich and a succulent crepe - but I suspect I annoyed the woman by paying with a large (fifty-euro) bill after she refused to run my debit card.
On my way back to the hotel, I nearly stumbled (literally) over Edna, Mary, and Jim, who were dining outside at the restaurant next door. They graciously invited me to join them, and I hesitated for only a moment before I accepted and ordered a glass of rose. Truthfully, I was feeling a bit lonesome after dining alone, so I welcomed their company. We talked and laughed for two hours about Edna's daughters and Jim and Mary's travel adventures until I was ready to fall over from exhaustion (and that glass of wine).
Looking back now, this day was probably my best in Paris, with the Musee Rodin (and that raspberry tart) standing out as my favorite Parisian locale.
