A Good Day for Walking

Bon jour, mes amies,
So I staggered off the metro after a day of touristing full of fatigue, but I couldn't go home to the Tour and apertivo until I'd bought some bread, and I wanted Pain Polaine from the grocery store because it's so good at breakfast.  But it was a busy time at the store at that time of day, and in all the checkout lines were people with a lot of stuff.  I got in line, but the customers had problems, and the clerk kept having to call the manager, and then the woman just ahead of me got mad because she was (I gathered because I know the word promo) expecting a special price which wasn't rung up.  More calls to the manager more arguments.  The customer appealed to me--in vain.  I said I was a tourist. Finally it was sorted.
But I'm in Paris after all.  It's all part of the experience.
Today I took the metro to the right bank.  I got off at L'Etoile where the Arc de Triomph is along with about a zillion streets that radiate from it, and I couldn't figure out which one I needed to get to my destination.  I started walking and everything sorted itself out.  I was in the highly elegant 17th arondissment, the territory of at least some of Paris's very wealthy and possibly aristocratic residents and fetched up at Parc Monceau, which is itself very elegant, lovely, and restful.  I strolled a bit and then went to the Musee de Nissim Camondo.
The museum is the home and pet project of Moises de Camondo from a rich Jewish banking family, but named as a memorial for his son who fought and died for France in the First World War.  The surviving members of the family were exterminated in the Second.  Moises de Camondo wished to recreate the life of the ancien regime and commissioned his mansion in the model of the Petite Trinanon and filled it with eighteenth century art treasures.  I am seriously--seriously--thinking of giving up Jacquemart-Andre for this gem.  The fact that one could have access to Parc Monceau from the garden is a selling point, so is the oak paneled library, which is perfect for cozy winter teas.
One of the museum attendants, an older man, i.e. older than me, tried to chat me up.  He asked me where I was from and how long I was in Paris, and did I find Parisians nice.  He ended up by telling me I was "a beautiful ambassador" for my country.  Very gallant, I guess.
I returned to the park to have a snack of nuts I'd packed.  I also had my kindle so I hung out a bit before finding the metro that would take me to the next destination.
I wanted to see the Canal St. Martin, and eventually I did, but at a crucial point I got turned around and ended up walking a long way in the opposite direction.  Fortunately it was cool and breezy--a good day for walking.  I figured out what was wrong and retraced my steps to walk along the canal, but not quite for its whole length.  If you have seen the movie Amelie, you've seen the canal.  Audrey Tatou kneels on one of the bridges and skips stones in the water.
But eventually I turned away from the canal.  Truth to tell I had no idea where I was.  My map was no help, but I picked a likely direction and walked.  Even being lost in Paris is being in Paris, and one will not be seriously lost for long.  Walk and walk some more and you will come to a major street and a metro stop.  And so it happened for me--and it was one of the lines that goes to Place d'Italie, so I didn't have to change.
I have two LaDuree macarons left, which I kept in the refrigerator.  I don't know if they will still have the exquisite delicacy and freshness, but here goes.  First up is rose flavored.  It's a very pretty pink color, but doesn't smell like anything. The cremey crunchiness is there, but not the intense flavor.  I can't blame LaDuree.  The macarons have been in my fridge for a week. It's not bad; it's just not more than two euros a cookie sublime.  I shall try the salted caramel. Yep.  Nice, but not incredible.  Lesson here--don't wait to consume your marcarons.  They don't last.
A demain