Train lag. Up late to a dreary day.
Took the #9 Metro line to Alma Marceau. rain increased, so pulled into Café Corona for a café while waiting for it to lighten up. Walked to Boulevard George V to find Chez Francis, the venerable restaurant that sits on the premiere corner with views of the Eiffel Tower closed and undergoing restoration. Refurb? New owners? Not sure.
Walked up the boulevard past the excellent (but overpriced) Marius & Janette to le Petit Marius, the less formal cousin which offers excellent seafood,, as well. All fish menu, which was fine with us. Prices much higher than Provence, but – this is Paris. I started with mozzarella and tomatoes – David had avocado with crab and shrimp. Both excellent. We shared a St, Pierre, one of our favorite fishes. Simply done and excellent. A bottle of Provence rosé, and the meal was complete.
Then we walked up the George V to the Champs, stopping at the windows of the upscale stores that line the street, until we reached Fouquet, the famous café that was the setting for Gigi. Somehow, I wangled a table by the street, and we settled in for people-watching with a glass of Meursault. Each glass was more expensive than a bottle of wine in Provence but… it’s Paris and Fouquet. We ordered a second glass, and in short order were (very politely) asked if we would mind moving over two tables, as they had a part coming in. Actually, the table was better, so no problem. Plus, they then presented us with a third glass of Meursault each for being accommodating. The party turned out to be some kind of mega meeting – about 16 mid-eastern men to the left, and about eight (bodyguards) to our right. Think Don Corleone and friends.
We finished our wines and grabbed a taxi (still raining) back to the hotel. Posted some photos, watched some French Open, then early to bed. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better