Here’s what appears to be a good one, though we got serious about it too late to get reservations. The Rotisserie du Beaujolais is right across the street and run by the Tour d’Argent. Food is simple bistrot, but the setting overlooks Notre Dame and the menu looked tasty though Patricia Wells didn’t like it too much. Address is: 19, Quai Tournelle, 75005 Paris, 01 43 54 17 47 Website supposedly is La Tour d’Argent, but I couldn’t find any details anywhere on this site.

Travelogue 360 Paris is an I SPY – like game that has you hunting for clues in Paris neighborhoods. The graphics are beautiful and the life-like scenes will remind you more of a gritty Paris experience than images scraped off a postcard.  I haven’t tried it yet with the kids, but I’m sure our 7-year old will love it.  You can try a 60-minute demo at Macgamestore.  Versions exist for both Mac and PC.

Here’s what appears to be a good one, though we got serious about it too late to get reservations. The Rotisserie du Beaujolais is right across the street and run by the Tour d’Argent. Food is simple bistrot, but the setting overlooks Notre Dame and the menu looked tasty though Patricia Wells didn’t like it too much. Address is: 19, Quai Tournelle, 75005 Paris, 01 43 54 17 47 Website supposedly is La Tour d’Argent, but I couldn’t find any details anywhere on this site.

I searched and searched for travel books to excite a two year old kid as well as inform me as to what are best things to do when we traveled. I found these, written by Sasek in 1959! With a minimum of words and a maximum of illustrations, ‘This is Paris’ captures the magic of mankind’s capital city. ‘This is Paris’ is a delightful tour of 1950s Paris from a child’s eye view. Sasek had written ‘This is Rome’ and ‘This is London,’ in 1959, but where the heck was ‘This is Tokyo,’ and ‘This is Seoul,’ for the kid of the 21st century?!@* So this is what I’m setting out to do, in 21st century format, in blogs.

“This is Paris (This is . . .)” (Miroslav Sasek)

“This is Rome (This is . . .)” (Miroslav Sasek)

“This is London (This is . . .)” (Miroslav Sasek)

Well, what do you know? As I’m searching for the links, I’m founding out that during the past couple of years, the publishers of Sasek book has figured out the same thing that I have, and have extended the series, using new editors, to create books for other cities, around the world. In fact, there is now, ‘This is Hong Kong!’ and Texas, for goodness sakes! As Paul always says, we’re always about two weeks ahead of the latest trend insight from NY Times!

“This is Hong Kong (This is . . .)” (Miroslav Sasek)

“This Is Edinburgh (This is . . .)” (Miroslav Sasek)

“This is New York (This is . . .)” (Miroslav Sasek)

“This is San Francisco (This is . . .)” (Miroslav Sasek)

“This Is Ireland” (M. Sasek)

“This Is Texas (This is . . .)” (Miroslav Sasek)

With globalization and the internet, there is less stuff to bring back from Paris that you truly can’t find back home, especially if you have a Trader Joes in the neighborhood. Here are a few things though that you might pick up at any little market in France that aren’t as easily or cheaply found back home.

This list courtesy of Food & Wine:

VANILLA SUGAR - Packets of this French housewife’s staple
can be found in the baking section of the supermarket. It’s
great sprinkled on French toast, over fruit tarts, or in cafe au lait.
PEPPERCORNS – French supermarkets sell white and mixed
(pink, green, white and black) peppercorns in disposable mills.
LENTILLES DUPUY  -  I love these tiny green lentils from the
remote Auvergne because they keep their shape when cooked.
They are especially good simmered in wine with garlic sausage.
FLAGEOLETS - These pale green dried beans shaped like a
fingernail go with roast lamb like jelly goes with peanut butter.
DIJON MUSTARD -  The mustard made for the U.S. market
lacks the nose-assaulting bite of the stuff sold in France.
MAYONNAISE – French mayonnaise often comes in tubes; it’s not
sweet like the American version and tastes more like homemade.
BOUQUETS GARNIS  – The herbs essential
for pot au-feu and boeuf bourguignon (parsley,
bay leaf and thyme) come dried in sachets that
look like tea bags, so they’re easy to remove.
HERBES DE PROVENCE  – This blend of
dried thyme, rosemary, summer savory and bay
leaves is used in Provenqal stews and grilled
foods. It’s amazingly hard to find in the U.S.
HERB AND TEAS Some of my favorites are
verveine (verbena), tilleul (linden blossom) and
fraise-cassis (strawberry and black currant).

Bon appetit!

An American mother in Paris/In search of the City of Light’s PG-rated attractions.  By Janis Cooke Newman in SF Chronicle

(05-13) 04:00 PDT Paris — My date at the restaurant in the Eiffel Tower
is making a crayfish dance on the edge of his platter of seafood. He
wiggles a little pair of orange claws at me. I smile and tenderly touch
his cheek. Then we gaze out past the filigree struts of the tower to the
lights of Paris glittering in the night sky.
  “Always see Paris with someone you love.” The first man who took me to
Paris gave me this advice. I was in my 20s, and was certainly in love with
him.
  We stayed in a little hotel above a 24-hour Vietnamese takeout restaurant
and spent hours strolling beside the Seine. Each time we passed beneath a
bridge I kissed him.
  Now, nearly 20 years later, I’m sitting in Altitude 95, the restaurant
halfway up the Eiffel Tower, watching someone I love make a crayfish
dance. Someone who earlier this evening dropped a crayon into my white
wine: my 5- year-old son, Alex.

The other person I love – my husband – is also here, sitting across from
us and pointing his Leica at a middle-aged French couple sucking oysters.
Something happens to my generally romantic husband when he comes to Paris.
The moment he steps off the plane at Charles De Gaulle, he becomes another
person -
  specifically, Henri Cartier Bresson, the French photographer who redefined
black-and-white photography. The result is that for our entire stay in the
City of Light, I never see him without a camera stuck to his face.
  So on this trip, I’m counting on Alex to provide the proper emotional
backdrop for Paris, even if he is given to animating portions of his
dinner.
  There is of course, an element of risk to this plan. Paris is not
generally thought of as a child-friendly destination. Which is not
surprising, since so many Parisian pursuits involve substantial amounts of
cigarette smoking, wine drinking and impassioned groping in darkened
cafes. But I have decided to trust Cadogan Guide’s “Take the Kids: Paris,”
which lists the best place to buy TinTin comics (L’Oiseau de Paradis); a
museum that contains a pickled, one- eyed cat (Musee National d’Histoire
Naturelle) and a Parisian park that features a petting zoo, a steam train,
an archery range and a bowling alley (Jardin d’Acclimatation). All of
which promises parents a new, PG-rated look at Paris – and life beyond
EuroDisney.
  Inside Altitude 95, it’s all brushed metal and steel girders, silver beams
that slant across the ceiling. Outside Altitude 95 is all of Paris. The
three of us work our way through an enormous platter of oysters and clams
and steamed sea snails, stopping only to lick our fingers and admire the
view.
  After dinner we walk around the tower, pointing out Parisian landmarks to
each other. From up here, the barges that chug up and down the Seine look
like boats in a bathtub, the lighted Palais de Chaillot like a dollhouse
for rich kids.
  “The ice cream place is still open!” shouts Alex, looking down at a tiny
lighted building near the gardens of the Champ de Mars. He makes a run for
the elevator.
  Alex and I walk back to our hotel through the narrow streets of the 7th
arrondissement, holding hands and eating ice cream. My husband wanders
along behind us, taking pictures of French people smoking in cafes.
  Spinning, rolling and riding
  The next day we visit the Jardin des Tuileries, the formal gardens between
the Place de la Concorde and the Louvre. In summer these gardens are
filled with carnival rides – spinning tea cups and dragon rollercoasters -
that make the place feel like Versailles-meets-Coney Island.
  Alex runs to an old carousel and climbs onto a painted horse named Yent’l.
The carousel has no music and, as it spins, it creaks like the hull of an
ancient wooden ship. Each time Alex whirls past me we wave at each other
like long lost friends.
  “Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” Alex says, dragging me into an open car.
  I’m so captivated by his excited face I forget until we are 250 feet above
the ground that I’m terrified of heights. Our car stops at the top, where
we can see the white domes of Sacre Coeur, the golden cupola of Les
Invalides, and the ground, very, very far below us. My husband, who is
down there photographing a group of screaming children on the
Tilt-a-Whirl, looks like an ant with a camera.
  “Mom,” says Alex, “you’re squeezing my hand.”
  When at last we get back on the ground, the three of us walk along the
garden’s gravel paths toward the glass pyramid of the Louvre. The Louvre
is so overwhelming, the only strategy for seeing it with a child is to
pick just one thing and then try to find it. Alex and I walk through the
museum’s echoey marble halls, taking turns asking the guards for “Les
mommies,” (the mummies), which are our favorite things.
  It takes a half hour before we find them – mummified cats and dogs and
even a fish. Alex is fascinated by the mummified crocodile. I like the
mummy of a man, wrapped with his hands crossed on his chest, the perfect
personification of a dead person. It takes another half hour to find our
way to the exit.
  Afterward, we walk along the Seine, passing little stands that sell
postcards and prints of famous paintings in the Louvre. My husband takes
several photographs of tourists in the decisive moment of buying miniature
copies of the Mona Lisa.
  Parisian park pool
  The following morning, we head over to the Latin Quarter and the Jardin du
Luxembourg. This Parisian park, with its neat rows of flowers and palm
trees planted in green tubs, reminds me so much of Celesteville, the town
the elephants built in Alex’s “Babar the King” book, that I half expect to
see the green-suited elephant relaxing on one of the wooden benches. Near
a big hexagonal pool, my husband rents Alex a long bamboo pole from a man
who is actually wearing a beret.
  “Cent!” shouts the man in the beret. And the three of us run to the pool,
searching for the little wooden sailboat with the number 100 painted onto
its sail.
  Alex uses the pole to push his boat across the water, chasing it from side
to side. After a while, a small boy shows up with a powered,
remote-control Miami Vice yacht. The little motorized boat buzzes around
the fountain, skimming the surface of the water and scaring the pigeons.
Alex and the other children watch, their bamboo poles drooping on the
ground, their forgotten sailboats crashing into the little duck house in
the center of the pool.
  Later, we walk to the Theatre du Luxembourg, where every day in summer
puppet shows are performed. Today’s performance is called “Voyage to the
North Pole” and features several polar bears and a penguin with a nose
that resembles a large salami. The main thrust of the story appears to
focus on the theft of the captain’s private stash of sausages and
Camembert cheese.
  The next day Alex wants to see Napoleon’s tomb, so my husband and I take
him to the shrine at Les Invalides. In the center of a great marble hall,
Napoleon’s body rests inside a blood-red sarcophagus big enough to hold
several defensive linebackers. Within the sarcophagus are six more coffins
made of mahogany, tin and lead. Surrounding Napoleon’s well-protected
remains are several 15-foot-tall carved angels, which Alex keeps referring
to as “fairies.”
  “Was Napoleon famous?” he asks me.
  Midway through telling him the story of the power-mad emperor, I discover
just how little I know about French history.
  “So Napoleon wanted to be boss of the world?” asks Alex when I can’t
remember precisely which countries Napoleon invaded.
  “Exactly.”
  The sprawling building next to Napoleon’s tomb houses the Museum of the
Army – nirvana for a 5-year-old boy. Alex climbs on all the cannons in the
courtyard, and then we go inside to view more rooms of medieval armor than
any grown-up should be required to endure. Alex is intrigued by a
scalloped-edge sword designed to inflict wounds that won’t heal. My
husband photographs two Italian ladies trying to peek under a knight’s
armor-plated codpiece.
  “Peter Max does The Flintstones’
  Later that afternoon we take Alex to the Pompidou Centre, Paris’ modern
art museum in the inside-out building. In the courtyard in front of the
museum we follow the fat, blue-and-white ventilation pipes that snake
across the outside walls. Behind us, in the center of a fountain, water
gushes from a mermaid’s breasts. We take an escalator enclosed in a clear
tube to the fourth level, where the museum keeps its most current
collections.
  “Look what this artist invented.” Alex points to an installation that
consists of several pink buttocks poking through flowered wallpaper. We
examine a sculpture of a naked woman made from old baby dolls. There are
curlers in her black-yarn pubic hair.
  “Did somebody make this all by himself?” Alex asks.
  “Art is a solitary pursuit,” my husband tells him. Then the two of them
disappear into a modernist cave done in graphic black and white.
  “It’s a little like “Peter Max does the Flintstones,’ ” says my husband,
poking his head out.
  Later, beneath a Mondrian, Alex gets out his magic markers and sketches in
a little pad. There’s so much untapped artistic potential in his drawing
of Spiderman that I am tempted to take it directly to the curator.
  The following day we walk over to the Ile de la Cite, the small island in
the middle of the Seine that is the home of Notre Dame. Our plan is to
climb the 238 steps to the top and see the rooftop gargoyles face to face.
  Because only 50 people are allowed to go up Notre Dame at any one time,
there’s a long line outside the cathedral. Leaving my husband in the line,
where he can occupy himself photographing the tourists buying plastic
figures of the Disney version of Quasimodo, Alex and I go exploring in
Notre Dame’s chapel. Inside, the walls are covered with paintings
depicting the lives of Joan of Arc and Jesus – both of whom appear to have
come to some pretty gruesome ends.
  “If Jesus was such a good guy,” Alex asks, “why did they kill him?”
  I am no better at explaining this than I was at explaining the life of
Napoleon.
  Worn smooth by time
  After an hour or so, we get to the front of the line and it’s our turn to
climb Notre Dame. The 238 stone steps are curved and worn smooth by time.
When Victor Hugo wrote “The Hunchback of Notre Dame,” the cathedral was
already 700 years old.
  We reach the top and step outside, looking over the rooftops of Paris in
the company of stone creatures with curling horns and bulging eyes. They
resemble less-affable versions of the monsters in “Where the Wild Things
Are.”
  According to my guidebook, the creatures whose incisor-filled mouths are
used to drain rainwater are gargoyles, and the purely decorative creatures
who sit on the building’s spires and stare at the city are chimera.
  “Oh my God,” whispers my husband. “It’s the Stryga.” He stands reverently
beside a chimera with a face that resembles a cross between a goat and an
unattractive dog. I recognize the creature from a famous photograph by
Bresson.
  Standing there, my husband’s face reminds me of Alex’s the day we rode up
the Macy’s elevator with one of Santa’s elves. I kiss the part of my
husband’s cheek that doesn’t have a camera pressed against it, and take
Alex off to see the saints and apostles perched on the cathedral’s spires
- holy men who gaze upward, as if considering whether to ascend into
heaven.
  When we return, my husband hasn’t budged from the Stryga. So, leaving him
with old goatface, Alex and I head off to the bell tower to look for “that
hunchback guy.”
  On our last night in Paris, Alex wants to ride on a Bateaux Mouches, one
of the sightseeing boats that travel up and down the Seine from the Pont
de L’Alma. It’s a hot night, and all along the stone embankments Parisians
sit on blankets drinking white wine and eating baguette sandwiches wrapped
in brown paper. A salsa band has set up on the banks of the Ile St. Louis,
and couples dance at the water’s edge, the women twirling their skirts to
cool off their legs.
  On the boat, Alex and I run from side to side so we don’t miss any of the
sights the recorded voice is pointing out in four languages: the Musee
d’Orsay,
  the Obelisque, the Conciergerie – the prison where Marie Antoinette waited
to have her head chopped off. My husband leans out over the bow to
photograph the houseboats that line the Left Bank, old wooden barges that
have been outfitted with pots of geraniums and American patio furniture.
  As we float down the Seine in the warm summer air, I lift Alex up so he
won’t miss anything. And each time we pass beneath a bridge, I kiss him.

IF YOU GO
  — WHERE TO STAY: Paris is filled with inexpensive, small hotels. The
trick when traveling with kids is finding one with a room big enough to
squeeze a rollaway into. The Hotel Saint Dominique (62 rue
Saint-Dominique; phone: 011- 33-1-47-05-51-44; fax: 01-47-05-81-28;
e-mail: hotel.saint.dominique@wanadoo. fr), has a few rooms that will work
for families. Rates for double rooms with rollaways are 850 francs ($116)
a night, and include breakfast. Best bet is to ask for one of the rooms
that face the courtyard; they’re much quieter. The Hotel Le Pavillon
(nearby at 54 rue Saint-Dominique; phone: 011-33-1-45-51-42- 87; fax:
011-33-1-45-51-32-79; e-mail patrickpavillon@aol.com) also has a couple of
rooms big enough to accommodate families. Rates are 575 francs ($79) per
night. The Hotel Le Pavillon has no elevator, so be prepared to lug your
suitcases up a few flights. Both of these hotels are within easy walking
distance of the Eiffel Tower, Les Invalides and the Bateaux Mouches.
  WHAT TO SEE: The Eiffel Tower is open daily from 9 a.m. to midnight June
to August; from 9 a.m. until 11 p.m. September-May. Tickets for the
elevator to the top are 59 francs ($8) for adults, 30 francs ($4) for
children under 12. There is nearly always a long line for the elevator.
One way to beat this is to make reservations for Altitude 95, the
restaurant on the first level of the tower. Then you can use the private
elevator, and won’t have to stand in any lines. Altitude 95 has a fixed
price menu ranging from 98 francs ($13.50) to 250 francs ($34). There’s
also a children’s menu at 46 francs ($6.30). Call for reservations
(011-33-1-45-55-20-04; Web: www.tour-eiffel.fr) at least a day in advance.
The Louvre (011-33-1-40-20-51-51; Web: www.louvre.fr) is open 9 a.m. to 6
p.m. (Wednesday until 9:45 p.m.) everyday except Tuesday. Adult admission
is 45 francs ($6.15); children are free. There’s a reduced adult admission
of 26 francs ($3.50) after 3 p.m. and all day Sunday. Everyone gets in
free on the first Sunday of every month. To find out when the puppets are
performing in the Theatre du Luxembourg, call 011-33-1-46-63-08-09. The
cost is 24 francs ($3.29), and the shows run about 45 minutes. Les
Invalides and the Museum of the Army (011-33-1-44-42-37-72) are open daily
in summer from 10 a.m. until 5:45 p.m., in winter from 10 a.m. until 4:45
p.m. Napoleon’s Tomb is open in summer until 7 p.m. Admission for adults
is 37 francs ($5); children under 12 are free. The Pompidou Centre
(011-33-1-44-78-12-33) is open every day except Tuesday from 11 a.m. until
9 p.m. Adults will pay 30 francs ($4.10) to get in; everyone under 18 get
in free. Visiting the cathedral of Notre Dame (011-33-1-42-34-56-10) is
free; the privilege of climbing the 238 stairs will cost adults over 25
years 35 francs ($4.80); under 25 is 25 francs ($3.40) (possibly because
they’ll climb faster); under 18 is 15 francs ($2), and under 12 is free.
Notre Dame is open daily from 8 a.m. until 6:45 p.m. Expect to wait at
least an hour to make the climb to the tower. The Bateaux Mouches
(011-33-1-42-25-96-10) sail from Pont de l’Alma near the Eiffel Tower
every 30 minutes in summer from 10 a.m. until 11 p.m., in winter every
hour from 11 a.m. until 9 p.m. The fare for adults is 40 francs ($5.50);
under 15 is 20 francs ($2.25); under 5 is free. The tour lasts about an
hour.
  AN EXTRA SIGHT: If you find yourself walking in the Left Bank, stop in at
Deyrolle (46 rue du Bac; 011-33-1-42-22-30-07). This taxidermy shop, with
its stuffed kangaroos, zebras, lions and gorillas, is a big hit with kids.
  FURTHER READING: Cadogan’s “Take the Kids, Paris” ($16.95) is an excellent
guidebook. It even has a special section on visiting the dreaded
EuroDisney.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2001/05/13/TR35749.DTL

  Janis Cooke Newman and Ken Newman last collaborated for the Travel Section
on a story about eco-travel in Costa Rica. Janis’ book about adopting her
son Alex, “The Russian Word for Snow,” was recently published by St.
Martin’s Press.

I can’t believe I’ve become such a sucker over the past seven years for the sappy “Goodnight Moon,” mouses, houses, mittens, and kittens included.  Now you can get Bonsoir Lune
from Amazon.  It’s word for word the same as the classic board book, but be aware that, despite the price, it’s a rather flimsy paperback.  Bonne lecture et bonne nuit.

1. Ride a carrousel – I can think of four carrousels in Paris right off the bat. It’s a kids’ paradise for carrousels. Some are clunky, just better than super-market level affairs (Square de Boucicaut near the Bon Marche), others are majestic in their “emplacement” (across the street from the Eiffel Tower), and others melancholy, like the one in the Tuilleries, which wouldn’t surprise me if it played Les Feuilles Mortes (Autumn Leaves) in the calliope version. Our rule for our kids is “one carrousel (or manege) a day, whenever you spot one.

2. See the stuffed animals at Deyrolles. All the joy of a zoo, except that all the animals are stuffed and it’s absolutely free. If you’re wandering around the neighborhood around the Musee d’Orsay with (or without) kids, make sure to stop in at Deyrolles at 46, rue du Bac, right near the Montalembert. This taxidermy and outdoors supplies shop has been open for 100 years. It was recently rescued by the owners of the Prince Jardinier to save it from destruction. Lucky thing too — it’s a wonderfully quirky store that will amaze you and a real step back into time when budding Darwins ensnared, collected, and catalogued all manner of animals.

3. Canal Saint-Martin (5 years old and up depending on how ancy your child gets).
From L’Arsenal near the Bastille, the boats disappear into a 100 year-old stone tunnel for about 1 kms. On the other side of the tunnel, you’re treated to a leisurely ride with an unfolding street show of French life unfolding in front of you. Slowly you’ll get to La Villette, at the north eastern border of the city, which is a fun museum for kids if you’re not burnt out by then. You can take the boat all the way back or walk through the Vilette to the metro to get home. . Port de l’Arsenal. Metro: Bastille. Canauxrama: Bassin de la Villette, 13, quai de la Loire. 75019. Reservations: 01 42 39 15 00. 9:45am-2:30pm. 12 euros. 10 euros for up to 12 years old. Under 6= free. The boat has recently discontinued refreshments, so bring along your own snacks, coffee, picnic, or drinks.

4. Unicorn Tapestries at the Cluny Museum or Musée National du Moyen Age – Count yourself lucky if you happen to see the Unicorn tapestries (Dame à la Licorne) at the same time as a class of little kids. Along with the Unicorn Tapestries of the Cloisters in New York, these are among the most inspiring and “fun” tapestries in the world.

Additionally, there are the newly designed gardens inspired by the Books of hours, by tapestries and paintings of the Middle Ages. The garden is a series of smaller gardens, each one with a theme: medicinal herbs, love, and food. 6, place Paul-Painlevé. 75005. Tel: 01 53 73 78 00. Open daily except Tues., 9:15am-5:45pm. Metro: Odeon or Cluny.

Article is a work in progress…

“Dans notre couple,” we have a mix of two styles. One of us likes to either go to dependable old restaurants and eat the same thing, or wander the streets idly looking at menus hoping to be entranced by presentation and well-written food titles.  The other side likes to research well in advance to avoid bad meals and wasted opportunities.  As in any good marriage, we kick and scream about the frustration of both approaches, but each tends to yield satisfying results from time to time.  One such restaurant is the Taverna degli Amici, on the rue du Bac between the hotel Montalembert and the Seine (and next to our favorite men’s clothing store, Atelson. 

A good review in French can be found at http://scope.chrisos.com/index.php?p=220 .      Briefly, good prices (30 E per person), mix of Italian and real Argentine food, usually easy to get reservations, warm chalet-like atmosphere, nice wait staff. It’s a good find.    We ate there with our good friend Patrick Mikla, who had the joy of Argentine beef for the first time.

Finally! After procrastinating on this for about six months, we have a Paris blog. Research seems to indicate that WordPress is now the short-term winner in the blogging world for ease of use and cost (Free!).  I use Ecto to add and edit so full integration there. Only issue is that WordPress doesn’t take Google ads. If you’ve worked with Google though, you’ll agree that Google is no longer the “gold mine” it used to be. Even with a site pulling in 500 uniques/day (like www.GreatDad.com), you still only make $2-$3/day.  As I say, not a gold mine and barely enough to pay hosting costs.  WordPress also allows transfer to our own domain if someday we can get the rights to Paris.com.