However, the flower market could not be found. On the up side, we found a store that sells coffee
This was our view on the way to the non-existent flower market. Good morning Arc de Triomphe!
So we then decided we would walk from Ternes to Mr. Oil's work, because, why not. Also because I figure the more walking I do, the more pastry I can eat. And cheese. Especially cheese.
We were very happy to have made this pilgrimage. Although we are saving our treats for tonight. It was definitely the coolest patisserie we've been to. Everything was behind glass, and we couldn't even figure out how to get to the scrumptious-looking delights. The shop girl had to show us how to open the case.
We made our way down to Trocadero, where Baby Oil and I got our first real views of the Eiffel Tower. Mr. Oil sees it every day at work, but he still thought it was cool too.
And this is Mr. Oil's place of employment, and you can see how they see the Eiffel Tower all day long.
By this time we were starving and we sat down to a very nice lunch. Although I did choose to be amused by some of the English translations on the English menu they gave me (no idea why they thought I would need this!).
The line about "the beff paving like "before" was my favorite. I know its not nice to make fun of someone's attempts to speak or write English, particularly since I know my French is atrocious, but I guess sometimes I'm not that nice.
Baby and I decided it would be fun to complete the walk by trekking the 4 kilometers home. About 2/3 of the way through, I realized this was a stupid plan, my feet hurt, and I was exhausted. But I was too stubborn to figure out how to use public transportation. So we're walking along up Rue George V, which is very shee-shee (no idea how you are supposed to spell that) with Louis Vuitton, Hermes, Bulgari, etc. Baby Oil is in the stroller waving his Sophie the Giraffe, and when we got to the top of the street where it intersects with the Champs-Elysees, I realized that Sophie had disappeared. Perhaps I was distracted looking at the Hermes window display but I did not see Baby Oil toss his best friend to the gutter. So I walked all the way back down the street. No dice - no giraffe. Uh-oh - Baby Oil LOVES this giraffe. It is seriously his best friend. I mean, I knew he would forget about its existence in about 7 minutes but it is a good toy.
Shortly after turning around again to head home sans giraffe, a nicely dressed gentleman came up to me and said, "Blah blah blah blah [French] giraffe?" I said, "Giraffe!!" He said, "Blah blah blah blah [French]." I knew I was close to finding that giraffe but I had no idea what he was saying. Through some energetic gesticulation, I ultimately determined that the street sweeper guy had the giraffe. I ran to the next block and approached him, saying, "Pardon, monsieur" (I am pretty sure that nobody ever speaks to the street sweeper guy because he seemed utterly shocked that I was talking to him - also, I am telling you that I said this to prove that I can say things in French other than "giraffe"). Then I said, "Giraffe? Giraffe? Giraffe?" And he pulled out Sophie! Operation Rescue Sophie was officially a success.
My feet still hurt and I'm still exhausted, but man do I feel a sense of satisfaction that I found that giraffe.