Living in the 12th arrondissement

 Tuesday September 23, 2025

Our first full day in Paris and it began with 51 degrees F and light rain this morning. But that didn't stop the open air market from setting up shop and getting itself ready for the week. (It's reportedly one of the largest open air markets in the city center.) So, after morning coffee and a light breakfast of fruit we walked across the street to the market. We browsed through the indoor building, then strolled through the open air portion, the stalls protected by temporary roofs. Along the way we picked up a couple of heads of broccoli, some gorgeous green beans (tiny haricot verts), a few small potatoes and a rotisserie chicken, most of which was planned for dinner this evening. 

the covered indoor market, Marché Beauvau

open air market on the Place d'Aligre

and along rue d'Aligre

that's our broccoli

We had hoped to visit the Maritime and Monuments museums both (located in the Palais Chaillot on the Trocadero) but since they were closed Monday we opted to try getting into Notre Dame. So, while we sipped coffee and had a light breakfast, I went online and got our free (timed) tickets for seeing the newly renovated Our Lady of Paris.

After dropping our groceries off at the apartment it was time to head out and see Paris!  

We walked the two blocks or so to the Ledru-Rollin Metro stop where we got on line 8. It was pretty quiet in the Metro.

After one stop we connected to line 1 at Bastille -- where we were entertained by a wonderful group of busking musicians supporting the Ukrainians.

We took line 1 to the Hotel de Ville where we left the underground and stopped in at the BHV department store for lunch. One of the nice things about the large department stores like Bon Marche, Printemps, and the other big names is they all have cafes, usually on the top floor, and all have handy and free bathrooms as well.

At BHV (Bazaar Hotel de Ville) the lunch was a variation on the cafeteria style: we opted to skip the hot line and go right for the salad bar. They also had a dessert/cheese plate bar as well but we opted to forgo filling ourselves up too much -- otherwise I'd need a nap afterwards. The restaurant was hoppin' and I couldn't help but notice how many people had a plate full of salad and they also had a plate full of frites. My kinda place.

a curious name for a chain of pastry shops

lunchtime

view of the Hotel de Ville from the restaurant

Leaving the department store we walked across the street and then across the plaza in front of the Paris city hall (Hotel de Ville), which has gradually been turned into a lovely green space. I remember the last we were there it was a large paved area usually dotted with various funky sculptures. 

Anyway, arriving at the Seine we crossed the river on the Pont d'Arcole.

looking upriver

Once across the river we ran straight away into a rather daunting maze of tourists queueing up for a variety of tourist shops (and creperies) on the Isle de la Cité, making our way to  Notre Dame herself.

The parvis in front of the church was packed with folks navigating a maze that would have made the Border Control people at the airport proud, all waiting to get inside but without reservations. The reservation line was virtually empty so we scooted right into the church without a wait. Once inside it was controlled chaos. 

the reservation line

Imagine hundreds of folks moving in a slow crawl clockwise with hardly any room to stop and catch your breath, let alone appreciate the incredible job done on restoring this church to its former glory. The stained glass was simply stunning.

Leaving the church we walked across the Seine to the left bank and through one of the old backstreets to Place Saint-Michel. We caught the line 4, getting off at the Saint-Sulpice stop and making our way to the Bon Marche department store complex as we passed some classic street scenes. Along our walk we passed through the tiny Square Alphonse Deville, which contained a couple of benches and one remarkable statue group dedicated to the French novelist and poet François Mauriac (1885-1970). He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1952. And just across the street from the Square we passed one of dozens of reminders scattered around Paris of the city's liberation in August 1944: a plaque dedicated to an unknown member of the Free French who died fighting on that spot August 21, 1944.

François Mauriac

It was a short two blocks to the department store. We skirted the main building and popped into the epicerie part of the store hoping to find a place so Susie could have a hot chocolate and pastry. The place was jammed so off we went up nearby rue de Bac. Susan recalled there were pastry shops close by and we soon found ourselves ensconced in Foucher (not Fauchon), a lovely, quiet chocolate and tea shop, where we rested and collected our wits over  a delicious cup of hot chocolate (Susie) and a perfect espresso (me). 

After finding ourselves revived and refreshed it was back to the Metro. From the stop close to Bon Marche we took the no. 10 to Odeon, switched to the 4 and then got off at Etienne Marcel so Susie could spend a bit of quality time at Mora, one of her favorite kitchen shops (for the serious cooks and chefs). Along the way we passed a shop you just don't see in Michigan.

From Mora we popped around the corner to G. Detou's food shop (always a favorite) where we bought a one kilo (2.2 pounds) bag of Marcona almonds ($20!) after which we made our way back toward the Metro, Along the way we decided to try the bus with our new Navigo passes and took the no. 29, While traffic was stop and start it was a pleasant ride. The bus was clean and comfortable and the digital screen aboard gave us plenty of time to get ready to get off at our stop. It was then just a few blocks to Place d'Aligre and our apartment. We did stop at the indoor market -- the open air had already closed for the day -- to pick up some cheese from one of several cheesemongers and then a couple of pastries from a nearby boulanger for tomorrow morning.

Once home we kicked back and, since it was aperitif time, we shared a toast with a glass of chardonnay to a nice day in Paris! That evening I shredded the chicken and then blanched the beans and little potatoes for dinner. A delicious meal!

Paris, a visit to Montmartre, Julie and Mora

Tuesday was another leisurely morning here on Rue General Renault. But eventually we broke free of such indolence, showered, dressed and headed down the stairs, out the door and off to the St. Ambroise metro where we took the no. 9 to Strasbourg-St. Denis, changing to the no. 4 to Barbes-Rochechouart and then the no. 2 to Blanche.

Exiting the Metro we came face-to-face with the red hulk of the Moulin Rouge -- certainly a far cry from it's original incarnation to be sure. We quickly turned north up Rue Lepic, one of the more interesting streets in Montmartre, filled with all kinds of food stuff, and in fact our objective was a little spice spice shop, Le Comptoir Colonial, suggested by (of course) Clotilde, who by the way lives in Montmartre. Located at no. 18 rue Lepic, this shop has much more than spices: oils, vinegars, and plenty of Asian condiments as well as an incredible selection of black, white and other pepper from all over the world.

After leaving Le Comptoir Colonial, we crossed Rue des Abbesses and headed up (and up is the operative word here) Rue Tholoze, in the direction of the Moulin de la Galette. In the days of Toulouse-Lautrec, this was as famous, if not more so than it's well-marketed cousin, the Moulin Rouge. Plus the view would have been much better. Located in what was once a virtual wasteland of shanties and hovels once inhabited by destitute artists and the marginalized of Parisian society, the Moulin de la Galette is today only a shadow of it's former self -- the windmill still looks, I believe, much like the original but it is now only a restaurant catering, one assumes to the the tourists who probably only want to pretend they can still hear the music.

We strolled onward and upward, skirting in behind the Moulin, turning down Avenue Junot, one of Napoleon's generals who is buried in Pere Lachaise, although his witty, stylish and very attractive wife, Laure is buried in Montmartre cemetery.

We walked along the quiet back streets of Montmartre, turning left onto Rue Caulaincourt, looking for Arnaud Larher's patisserie. We soon found his shop, covered with a distinctive and uniquely attractive orange facing. We stepped inside and after Susie checked out the various selections -- we purchased a couple of items and walked out. Stepping across the street we grabbed a vacant bench in the shade of a tree -- but then this entire rue is lined with shade trees -- and commenced to examine our purchases in greater detail.


I had the eclair caffe (top), and while the choux dough tasted very good we were both unimpressed with the filling; it lacked any of the intense richness we had come to expect from eclairs in Paris and there was very little hint of coffee. Susie had opted for the "Supreme," a scrumptious chocolate cake layered with chocolate-blackberry mousse and finished off with a blackberry creme brulee layer. This was good. This was very good.

After our brief repast we strolled down Rue Caulaincourt toward Montmartre cemetery. I had promised a correspondent to my Paris cemeteries blog that I would try to find her ancestor, who had apparently died of cholera in Paris in 1831. Sadly, the office was closed to I couldn't access the records. Maybe later this week we may get back to the cemetery. We did pay our respects to Julie Recamier, however before leaving. If you're in the cemetery, stop by and say hello to one of the most interesting people from the Napoleonic period, an era packed with fascinating men and women. (She would have been even more interesting today, no doubt.)

So from the cemetery we walked to the no. 2 at Place de Clichy and got onto the 2 to Villiers where we transferred to the no. 3 line and exited at the Bourse metro stop. From there we walked south along rue Vivienne to Petits Champs, turned right and turned left at rue Richelieu.

We were on our way to another Clotilde recommendation: Isse.


Billed as "tempura and tapas," we fortunately arrived after the lunch rush, since the place was quite intimate. Pushing the door open we found ourselves inside a sleek, glass and metal interior but felt it warmly inviting nonetheless.

We each ordered the "Menu tempura," and were treated to a several courses of mini treats (miso soup, seaweed, that sort of thing) until they brought out the piece de resistance: shrimp and vegetables dipped in a scrumptious tempura batter, accompanied by a large bowl of rice.


Isse, 45 rue de Richelieu, 75001.

After lunch we strolled down the petits champs until it became Etienne Marcel -- we were heading in the direction of the old Les Halles, Les Innocents and and the one other shopping vice Susie has: the bakeware at Mora on Rue J-J Rousseau.

I opted to sit this one out and grabbed a table at at one of our favorite cafes, the Etienne Marcel and had a caffe and watched people, notably two young women having an intense discussion that turned into a full-blown argument, bringing tears to both sets of eyes and various other emotive actions. They were each accompanied by friends -- their "seconds" perhaps? -- and one wonders what the argument was about: stolen love, betrayal, lost keys, wrecked car, who knows?

Susie soon joined me and we headed home. On the Metro of course.

We spent an hour or so relaxing at home before getting ourselves back together, and heading back out into the wilds and wonders of the Paris streets.

Taking the Metro from Richard-Lenoir -- ean easy 5-minute walk -- we changed to the no. 1 at Bastille and then got off at the Hotel de Ville, but didn't exit above ground. Instead we walked into the huge BHV department store through it's underground connector to the Metro. I wanted to browse the book section as I am on a hunt for books on Paris cemeteries in general and Pere Lachaise in particular.

My quest was partially rewarded with a copy of a copy of Le Pere-Lachaise: Guide du Flaneur, by France Raimbault. Not the best produced study of the cemetery as it turned out, but a step in the right direction.

From BHV we retraced our steps through the underground connector and got right back on the no. 1., getting off at the Tuileries. We crossed rue de Rivoli and strolled under the arcade looking for Galignani bookstore, one of Paris' several English language bookstores (they do have a substantial French department as well).

Although we easily found the store a quick question to the store staff produced the answer that they in fact had no books on Paris cemeteries -- this given with a most quizzical look as if why on earth would one be interested in such a thing in the first place -- so it was off up Rivoli to W. H. Smith, the British bookseller, to learn if they had any books on the burial grounds of Paris.

No, they didn't either. But it was a beautiful evening so we strolled passed the US embassy -- guarded by several thousand gendarmes it seemed -- and then up the Champs Elysees but following the quieter side gardens, which we had never really noticed before. Susie wanted to check out the Lenotre venue where she will come Saturday morning for class. (They have a small "pavilion" just along the Champs Elysees where they hold their short courses.)

When we reached the FDR Metro at one corner of the Rond Pont des Champs Elysees, we slid underground and grabbed the no. 9 for the Trocadero and views of the Eiffel tower. From the Trocadero we strolled down Avenue du President Wilson in the direction of Place de L'Alma where we grabbed a couple of chairs outside at the cafe Grand Corona, and sat and had an aperitif and watched the incredible amount of traffic going every which way and all at once.

You have to understand that the Grand Corona is the one cafe we remember from our first trip to Paris more than ten years ago, when we had our first taste of what Parisians can do with a simple mix of warm goat cheese, greens and a vinaigrette. Naturally, we always stop here at least once for a drink and think of how much has changed in our lives since then.

The sun was very low in the sky when we paid our bill, and walked across the street to the Metro and the no. 9. We returned to the FDR stop and changed back to the no. 1 and got off at Bastille. We strolled up and out at the de la Roquette exit, walking down a street we have come to know so well.

About 100 meters along rue de la Roquette we turned right onto the short but very unique rue de Lappe. Why unique? Well it is virtually all cafes/bars/restaurants, and many of them ethnic: Egyptian, Mexican, and the one that appealed to us: Corsican.

The entire front wall of the large Bar Bat was in fact one big open space where the tables and chairs, large easy chairs, all seemed to spill outside onto the roadway. Susie suggested we give this place a try so we walked inside and were seated right away.

The staff was friendly, the ambiance warm and inviting and, in true bistro style we were socially connected with our neighbors. The menu was in Corsican (with French in parenthetical subtitles)and the language seemed to remind us of a cross between Italian and Sardinian, for what that's worth.

But since we've been to college and have spent some time in France trying to decipher the lingo we competently (more or less) made our choices: Susie had a ravioli dish and I had a grilled steak with some of the best "frites" I have ever eaten. Most if not all the wines appeared to be Corsican -- and we had a delicious half-bottle of red with our meal (San Michele was the producer I believe but don't quote me).

The meal was incredible -- our one non-Clotilde foray into the food world on this trip in fact -- and we would easily recommend this place. Oh, and they also have free internet connection. How cool is that?

Bar Bat, 23 rue de Lappe, open from 19:00-23:30, during the week, and until 2:00am on weekends. Not bad. you can find them online at www.barbat.fr

After spending a couple of hours enjoying one of the many thousands of culinary wonders that Paris has to offer, we paid our bill (something they appreciate here in France) and headed back to rue de la Roquette, strolling through Place Leon Blum and bidding bonne nuit to Leon, who, as always is still keeping his eyes fixed on the Mairie for the 11th arr., and home to bed.