The senseless war with Iran continues, now well in its eighth month, and prices for petroleum products continue to be elevated at a worrying level. The airlines are using the situation as an excuse to jack up ticket prices, even though aviation fuel prices back in 2008 (inflation-adjusted) were almost twice what they are now. Don't believe me? Google it! Buying a roundtrip business class ticket to Europe in this shoulder season of the year will set you back from $5,000 to $8,000. These prices trickle down to seats you buy with your hard-earned award miles, with the majority of flights from Lubbock to Paris in October pricing out at between 500,000 and 900,000 miles for a return billet. So, I was elated to find two routings that required "only" 57,500 miles each way, plus about $250 in taxes and fees. The exact fees were $5.70 to fly from LBB to CDG and $243.49 to fly back—the latter thanks to the luxury tax that London Heathrow demands. Still, in times like these, 115,000 miles and $250 to fly in style to Paris has to be considered a bargain.
The one major issue was that the only flights at this redemption value were less than a week apart. I use a paid service, Roame, to do the continual searching of price changes for award tickets available on all airlines with whom I have miles, yet it was to no avail: My hopes of extending my stay faded with every passing day, unless I wanted to shell out another 200,000 or more miles. But as I like to say, four nights in Paris is better than no nights in Paris!
A trip is as good as you make it, and from the beginning I had made sure to build in enough time to allow for delays and the like. Good thing. On the day before I flew out (Saturday the 17th) a large swath of the US was hit by the first major cold front of the season, resulting in flight delays beginning Friday that dominoed into Saturday (plus there were ancillary effects such as crew rest requirements and all those other minutiae). And then, strong winds in DFW required spacing out the arrival and departure slots for all aircraft. But despite all the mayhem I still got to enjoy the Flagship Dining experience in DFW's top lounge, a benefit that used to be open only to passengers in international First Class. But since flying in F has gone the way of the dodo, with very few airlines still offering it on an increasingly small number of select routes, holders of Flagship Business Class tickets can now enjoy outstanding à la carte food service in American's Flagship Lounges. (Without the Flagship designation, international business class ticket holders are not eligible to use the dining option but may be admitted to the FL, depending on their AA status.)
After a stopover in Dublin (with enough time to sample one of the Aer Lingus lounges) I finally arrived in Paris mid-afternoon on Sunday. I was traveling with only my roll-aboard and small Patagonia backpack for electronics, and using the RER B metro-train I reached the Boulevard Saint-Michel station just about an hour later. The usually large number of private accommodations had been sold out for weeks (thanks to various large events, among them a concert series by Céline Dion), but I had been able to secure a room, via Airbnb, in the Hotel La Louisiane in the very heart of the Latin Quarter. The 200-year-old hotel bills itself as a haven for artists, writers, and musicians that has hosted the likes of Salvador Dalí and Ernest Hemingway, Henry Miller and John Coltrane. The room was small and tidy and quiet—what else does one need?
On my first evening I simply strolled through the quaint but lively alleys and passageways of the Left Bank, soaking in the sights and sounds of a vibrant European metropolis. There were no signs of the violent demonstrations and street protests of the previous days and weeks. Locals and tourists alike were packed into bars and restaurants. Small shops and art galleries were open, their show windows inviting passers-by to come inside. Similar to the Marais neighborhood (which I didn't visit this time), the Latin Quarter hasn't changed much since the times of the French Revolution. The streets are better suited to pedestrians, bikes, and scooters than cars, and many of the buildings could use at least an exterior facelift. I felt wonderfully at home.
For dinner I enjoyed a leisurely three-course menu consisting of an appetizer of smoked salmon, followed by confit de canard (duck leg) as the main plate and a nice assortment of cheese; a carafe of house wine rounded out the $45 meal in this jam-packed small bistro.
After my dîner I went to a nearby jazz cellar, the Caveau de la Huchette. This ancient catacomb, with its many different levels that reach deep below the street, goes all the way back to the 16th century when it housed a tavern; later, Danton and Robespierre purportedly frequented it during the French Revolution. Unfortunately, not only was the place packed to the gills, making me think of accidental fires in European clubs, but the retro 1930s and '40s band called Sugarpie & The Candymen's jazz manouche just didn't do it for me, and so I left well before the end of the second set. Naturally, I settled for a nightcap IPA at the Bar du Marché 30 meters from the entrance to my hotel. Bottom line: 23:00 hrs on a Sunday night is the perfect time for some serious people watching in the Buci 'hood, and jet-lag is overrated.
Before I had left Lubbock, the weather forecast had painted a rosy picture of what was going to greet me in Paris: three full days of nothing but sunshine with temps ranging from the mid-70s into the low 80s. Yeah, right. Monday was the best of the three as the sun occasionally peeked out and I even was able to wear shorts. After that it was long pants, several top layers, and the occasional wind/rain coat that I had packed for emergencies. Anticipating nice weather, I had purchased a 3-day, €20 bikeshare pass in hopes of utilizing the bike extensively. On Monday I did so, to the tune of a moderate 16 miles in Paris' heavy traffic. It was a nice enough day to ride along the Seine, eat a sandwich while gazing at the monstrously tall Eiffel Tower, and take a lap on the vélib around l'Arc de Triomphe. That pretty much concluded my "must-do tourist agenda" for this trip.
I hadn't traveled to Paris to see the usual sights. I had crossed the Atlantic to simply feel the pulse of a European capital that also happens to be one of my favorite cities in the world. I have lost count of how often I have been to Paris, but it must be close to two dozen times over these past 55 years. No pressing need for me to go back to the Louvre, the Orsay, the L'Orangerie—been there and enjoyed them, many times. I wanted to see people out in the streets, riding their bikes while wearing a suit or just sipping a glass of wine outside of a tiny bar and letting the world pass by. And in addition to that, I wanted to enjoy some typical food!
Going out to lunch by yourself in Paris doesn't necessarily mean that you're alone. Visit a typical "people's" restaurant such as the Bouillon Chartier, and you will immediately understand what I mean. There are no tables for one; even as a couple you most likely will be sitting next to at least two strangers, elbow to elbow, knee to knee. There are three Bouillons Chartier, and on my last visit, in 2024, I had been to the location at Montparnasse instead of the one at the Grand Boulevards that I frequented this time around, once again; location #3, close to the Gare de l'Est, so far has eluded me as it was opened just four years ago—the original restaurant dates back to 1896. Strewn across town are numerous other bouillons, as these family style restaurants are referred to, but the ones founded by the Chartier brothers are the ones that are best known for their ornate interiors, prim-and-proper (and often surly!) waiters, and staff's habit of writing each guest's food order and computing the final bill directly on the paper tablecloth. You just gotta go!
There were a few sights that I had on my list for possible visits, places that for whatever reason I had never toured. For years I had wanted to see the Paris Mint, or as it is formally known, the Monnaie de Paris. As the name implies, it is not only a museum (it features that as well, the Musée de la Monnaie) but an actual working facility where artisans create bronze and other metal casts, jewelry, and various decorations commissioned by outside artists. For example, all 5,084 medals for the 2024 Olympic and Paralympic Games in Paris were created here. Additionally, there are cultural areas with temporary exhibitions such as the current one that featured various south-east Asian artists. The museum proper, of course, gives a rundown of numismatic history. (BTW, France produces its billions of euro and cents coins in an industrial facility in Pessac, close to Bordeaux.)
For some odd reason, I had this longing to see an old library. I don't know where this came from, but I wanted to experience one of those ornate university libraries with wooden shelves and ladders and old globes and other touches from an era that has been displaced by our digital age. Initially, I had wanted to visit the Sorbonne, Paris' world-renowned university, but because of the political unrest it was closed. Even visiting the almost adjacent (and Sorbonne-affiliated) Bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève was not as simple as just showing up and walking in: I had to complete an online formulaire, wait for my acceptance e-mail identifying me as a foreign researcher (!), and then have my photo taken and (free) library card issued. But it certainly was worth it. The large reading room would fit right into a Harry Potter movie, were it not for all those students with their laptops and AirPods, maintaining a respectful, hushed silence that only a library can command. A strange melancholic sentiment overcame me when I spotted copies of Le Petit Robert (nothing petit about this annual compendium of the entire French language!) on one of the shelves, immediately recognizing the logo of what I owned back in high school when I studied French. I pulled out a copy and thumbed through the pages, close to tears.
AI is an amazing tool when it comes to finding obscure attractions in a big city. It didn't take me long to hone in on the Musée d'Histoire de la Médecine, which was within easy walking distance from my hotel but also not far from the library and the Luxembourg Gardens. Call me whatever you want, but I have always been fascinated by surgical tools from the 17th to 19th centuries. The bone saws! The drills and scalpels! The civiale lithotripe, a urological instrument that allowed non-surgical removal of kidney stones through the insertion of a medieval-looking contraption by way of the urethra. No anesthesia in those days, just yet. Whatever your fascination, it will be satisfied in this small but potent museum inside a large government complex that has wide staircases and life-sized paintings that fill the cavernous space. In any city but Paris or Rome or London, a museum like this would be a star attraction on the tourist menu; here it fetches a paltry €3.50 entry fee.
When I started to plan for my trip, there was one thing that I definitely wanted to do: have another special dinner at Le Procope, a historic restaurant that was founded as the first Parisian café in the year 1689 and has been open for most of the intervening decades and centuries. Its Italian founder—Sig. Francesco Procopio dei Coltelli— introduced Paris to the concept of sipping coffee out of porcelain cups while being surrounded by marble tables and crystal chandeliers. Le Procope was so novel and defining that it eventually was named a Monument Historique. On my last visit to Paris two years back I had eaten there for the first time and vowed to return.
Paying one hundred euros to dine in such surroundings and enjoying escargots, the duck pâté, and braised beef cheeks prepared according to a 300-year-old recipe is, in today's age, a steal of a deal! The dining room is dripping with history, and the service is impeccable. The final tab even included a nice bottle of Côtes du Rhône. The ou joue de boeuf confite façon grand-mère appeared—piping hot—in a small Staub cocotte, and I am planning to use one of my own Dutch ovens to prepare something similar in the not-so-distant future. What an experience, what a pleasure.
A rainy Wednesday arrived soon enough, and after storing my luggage via the Bounce-app for the day (reliable, cheap, and worldwide) I did some final wandering. After a short yet furious orage that fairly soaked me whilst in the Luxembourg Gardens (the pics were taken within less than five minutes altogether!), I ducked into yet another traditional restaurant, La Suite Odeon, for a mid-afternoon lunch consisting of three starters: ham from the Duroc region, a pot of (what must have been homemade) terrine (a coarse, chunky type of pâté), and fabulous marinated scallops, coquilles Saint-Jacques. These starters provided much more generous helpings than usual, and two would have been plenty, but the leftover terrine and jambon made it all the way to my airport hotel where I spent the night before flying home on Thursday morning. Together with a demi-baguette and a demi-bouteille, the perfect hotel room picnic dinner was created.
Not too shabby for leftovers from lunch ...
My room at the CDG Holiday Inn was a freebie thanks to one of my many credit cards' annual free night benefit, and it sure was nice not to have to deal with the RER during the morning rush hour. The previous evening had been bad enough already with crammed trains and delays. The hotel shuttle ferried me in 10 minutes to CDG Terminal 2, and I hung out in the relatively new Admirals Club between T2A and T2C. I was pleasantly surprised by the cheese sommelier who offered personalized service even well before noon. A quick hop to LHR via British Airways followed (with one of the fastest transfers from T5 to T3 and clearing security in less than 30 minutes from landing to entering the lounge). Unfortunately, all OneWorld lounges in T3 are really showing their age and need a facelift, badly.
Qantas lounge in LHR's T3: more glitz than substance
For the transatlantic flight, AA was using its new 789-9 Dreamliner with the hot-off-the-assembly line Flagship Suites. I had experienced Qatar's Q-Suites, which use the same concept: individual pods with sliding doors that allow for a certain amount of extra privacy. I do have to say that there is a cocoon-ish feeling once the door is closed, and the concept carries a certain aura of luxury and exclusivity attached to it. Still, while AA's Flagship Service is solid it doesn't compare with Qatar's soft product, as service and amenities are referred to in flyer-speak. But, no complaints because there was nothing to complain about. Example: Qatar would never serve its pre-departure Champagne (not sparkling wine) in a plastic cup. I rest my case.
My final indulgence of the trip came courtesy of another visit to the Flagship Lounge during my layover in DFW. It's easy to get used to fancy meals and cocktails, and I realize how spoiled I am. Spoiled rotten!
I made it home a little bit before midnight on Thursday, and since then I have been getting back into my normal rhythm. In the next few days, several routine medical visits are on my schedule, and I have finally decided to consult a shoulder specialist to get an opinion on how to proceed with my increasingly bothersome Old Man's Shoulder. My gut feeling tells me that my travel for at least early 2027 will be severely curtailed. We'll see. Thanks for reading.
Paying one hundred euros to dine in such surroundings and enjoying escargots, the duck pâté, and braised beef cheeks prepared according to a 300-year-old recipe is, in today's age, a steal of a deal! The dining room is dripping with history, and the service is impeccable. The final tab even included a nice bottle of Côtes du Rhône. The ou joue de boeuf confite façon grand-mère appeared—piping hot—in a small Staub cocotte, and I am planning to use one of my own Dutch ovens to prepare something similar in the not-so-distant future. What an experience, what a pleasure.
A rainy Wednesday arrived soon enough, and after storing my luggage via the Bounce-app for the day (reliable, cheap, and worldwide) I did some final wandering. After a short yet furious orage that fairly soaked me whilst in the Luxembourg Gardens (the pics were taken within less than five minutes altogether!), I ducked into yet another traditional restaurant, La Suite Odeon, for a mid-afternoon lunch consisting of three starters: ham from the Duroc region, a pot of (what must have been homemade) terrine (a coarse, chunky type of pâté), and fabulous marinated scallops, coquilles Saint-Jacques. These starters provided much more generous helpings than usual, and two would have been plenty, but the leftover terrine and jambon made it all the way to my airport hotel where I spent the night before flying home on Thursday morning. Together with a demi-baguette and a demi-bouteille, the perfect hotel room picnic dinner was created.
My final indulgence of the trip came courtesy of another visit to the Flagship Lounge during my layover in DFW. It's easy to get used to fancy meals and cocktails, and I realize how spoiled I am. Spoiled rotten!
I made it home a little bit before midnight on Thursday, and since then I have been getting back into my normal rhythm. In the next few days, several routine medical visits are on my schedule, and I have finally decided to consult a shoulder specialist to get an opinion on how to proceed with my increasingly bothersome Old Man's Shoulder. My gut feeling tells me that my travel for at least early 2027 will be severely curtailed. We'll see. Thanks for reading.
