I thus opted for a look at the Left Bank and, after crossing the river at the Pont de la Concorde passing the Assemblee Nationale; I reached my first destination- the absolutely splendid Musee Rodin in Rue de Varenne. The artists’ sculptures are displayed in the garden where one can sit back, take tea and relax, while soaking up both sun and culture. Remaining on foot (it is the only way to see Paris with all its nooks and crannies) I made my way to Rue De Seine passing the fantastic outdoor food market which provides a real insight into the Gallic identity divorced from all the tourist hyperbole. Rue de Seine is one of many real streets that have survived in Paris with not a Gap or an Agnes B in sight, just the city proper. On the left lies the Hotel Louisianne, once home to Miles Davis, Billie Holiday, Charlie Parker and Jean Cocteau while at the end of the street lies another Paris institution, Bar Palette, that decorated with a variety of old artists palettes and a décor that must date back to the turn of the century with a clientele to match looks like its torn from the pages of Brassai’s Paris by Night while Café Fleur is worthy of a look just to bathe in its illustrious history as Picasso , Georges Bataille and J.K. Huysmans were all regular patrons while its classic art deco interior of mahogany red seating and mirrors has hardly changed little since WW2.
Café Fleur
As keen on walking the city as I once was, I was now ‘banjaxed’; HMS Hangover was drifting sneakily back into port, Frankie Fatigue had me by the short and, not even slightly curlies, and my dogs were barking up a storm. Thus, I thought I’d take the weight off my feet and plot up at The Church of St.Germain that, even though I am a devout atheist, is a fine place to plot up. The oldest church in Paris, on the weekends they have choral and organ recitals, which are simply a joy to behold.
After a snooze in the rather uncomfortable pews, I hit the Metro to Chatelet. Of course, for yours truly, any trip to Paris is not complete without a bowl of onion soup, a dish that only Parisians can do properly. So next day (after a pronounced kip) I went classic to, Aux Pied de Cochon, in Chatelet that since 1947 hasn’t closed day or night and, as such, was a destination for yours truly back in the day after we finished at that ever so wonderful nightclub Les Bains. Undoubtedly this fave haunt of Josephine Baker, Serge Gainsbourg, Alfred Hitchcock and Jean-Paul Belmondo is a beautiful space while the food is pure Paris and the soup festooned with enough cheese so your spoon is beyond belief stands up on its own.
Aux Pied de Cochon