Hello again, Blogonauts!

Here are a few highlights from my last 24 hours in Paris:

Saturday evening was splurge time, so I had dinner at Brasserie Bofinger, a lovely old Parisian institution. If you must wait in line for a table, the maître d' hands you a card containing the name of a classical composer. When he calls out the the composer's name, your table is ready. So once I heard "Haydn," I stepped out from the shadows and was escorted up the stairs to a single table set with white table cloths, starched napkins, and a small basket of bread already awaiting my arrival.

Bofinger is an exemplary old French eatery complete with dark paneling and brass lighting fixtures. The waiters all wear long aprons and dash about attending to the patrons, even completing some of the final preparation at the table.

Alas, I forgot to photograph my steak au poivre and profiteroles, but they were delicious.

Sunday was Easter, and although I had considered going to Mass to hear one of Paris' ancient organs, I fell into a more leisurely approach to breakfast and packing. Once I checked out, however, several hours remained before British Airways required my presence at the airport. So I left my luggage secured at the hotel and decided to return to Musée D'Orsay, where our merry band had visited for only an hour last summer.

As noted earlier, every first Sunday of the month Paris' museums are open to the public cost free, and so I anticipated a bit of a line. However, once I turned the corner at D'Orsay, a sight of massed humanity filled the courtyard. Would I rather spend the time exploring Paris or waiting for hours with this mess of museum mavens? Wandering the outdoors won the contest.

So for the remainder of my midday, I sauntered back and forth across the Seine, merrily snapping photos of landmarks and street scenes. (The Champs-Élysées was particularly bustling and cheery for a Sunday.) I have included a few pics that I thought worth posting. The air was chilly and the breeze brisk, but I enjoyed myself.

The Air France shuttle bus to the airport departs from Gare de Lyon, a 10-minute walk from my hotel, so once I gathered my luggage, I made my way there, watching as the clouds thickened overhead. The bus shelter was a welcome sight, ensuring I would stay dry. I was nonetheless a bit surprised when instead of rain, sleet started to fall as I waited for the shuttle to arrive.

The trip home was uneventful, and my connections and luggage remained coordinated and intact.

I’ll send out some final words over the next few days. But now Waldo & Briggs deserve a bit of attention.

Blog to you later!