04 May: A Traveler Runs on His Stomach (Part 3 of an Open-Ended Series
We made our third attempt to get to the Musee D'Orsay on Tuesday, only to be thwarted by the longest queue I'd seen for a museum since the Tutankhaman exhibit back in the 70s. A perfect storm of events had caused this--the museum hadn't been open for two days (with May Day on Sunday being the French version of Labor Day) and the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays, spreading out art tourists to other destinations.

It was turning into the most perfect weather day of the trip, so we decided not to wait in a line for two hours and instead chose to take a rid on the Batobus, a tour boat that's run by the city of Paris that goes up and down the Seine at various stops and lets you get on an off as much as you want for one day. This was our seceond day of Batobus voyaging, and it's definitely a must for Parisian visitors. We like it much more than the other touristy boats as you're not being talked to all the time (we've even seen one where the hosts were dressed up in orange clown-like costumes, singing a song to their imprisoned guests). It's just a quiet ride letting you take all the sites in, with occasional announcements of coming stops from the single Batobus host (there's also a driver).

We were quite excited when we boarded our morning Batobus as we had Bernard as host, who had previously hosted one of our rides the previous week. In his early 20s and beaming with one of the widesst smiles I've seen in Paris, he clearly loves his job--from taking in the sites to chatting with the Captain and the ticket sellers to winking about with the tourists on the boat.

We had made tentative plans to have a light dinner and stop by a bar showing the Chelsea v Liverpool Champions League semi-final. (Somehow I'd peppered Mrs. F enough with my hangdog pleas to watch the game that she acquiesced; she hates sport, all sport, y'know, while I'm a bit of a daft Chelsea supporter--I even have a garden gnome painted in a blue Chelsea kit) But with the Batobus day passes still in hand, we decided to use it to transport us near the Champs Ellysee to go to the Buddha Bar. Part restaurant, part night club, the Buddha Bar has been influential (along with Hotel Costes and Man Ray) in creating, refining, and popularising the Indo-electronica chill sound that's been very popular here in Europe the last couple of years. (It's found some popularity in the States and morphed with other world rhythms, best personified by the global mish-mash of Thievery Corporation).

We almost walked by the rather unassuming front door, then stood in front of the hostess in a smallish entry hall, wordless, not sure what to do. She simply directed us downstairs, where our eyes took a few minutes to adjust to the candle-lit, red-tinged darkness. We still had our jackets (accented by some newly purchased Parisian scarves) and declined to have them checked, so we looked a little shlubby. Thus we were placed in the non-reserved back room behind a pillar so the beautiful people wouldn't be able to catch sight of us. However, we came prepared, with me wearing my Kenneth Cole bubble shirt (everyone loves the bubble shirt) and Mrs. F wearing a swank shirt composed of a melange of green and blue waves. Once our server saw this, she immediately moved us to better backroom seats where we could at least see and be seen by the club crowd.

A cavernous space with seating for well over 200, the place was decked out in pedal-to-the-metal pan-Asian design, from Indian-inspired art on the walls and a reclining Buddha near our table to the Chinese-style uniform worn by our server. The main room features a giant Buddha centerpiece that's well over 20 feet high. We were a little confused over the nightclub aspect of the establishment, and our server told us that the tables are taken out of the dining area on weekend and dancing goes from midnight to 4am. (During the week, dancing goes on in the bar area, ringing around the dining area one floor above.)

I had a very delightful lamb curry, in which the lamb seemed to have been slow braised for hours in the curry sauce as it fell apart delicately with just my fork. Mrs. F had a sesame encrusted seared tuna with shitaki mushroom sauce and wild Asian greens, which was equally delicious. The final price tag with dessert and a half bottle of wine and some before dinner aperitifs was the weightiest we've had on this trip. And while we may have had a better dinner (Le Reminet comes to mind), this total dining experience will definitely last in our memories.

Tomorrow we head to Brussels to visit with one of my wedding's Best Men (I had two) and his family. We're looking forward to a weekend of Belgian beers and frites (and watching the British election returns on BBC... well, at least I am).

Oh, by the way, Chelsea lost to Liverpool. But we'll alway have the Buddha bar...