The mean streets of Le Marais

Following a hectic morning train-hopping, a restful afternoon is required. That pesky old European sun kept a rolling around. A leisurely lavage and careful attention to sartorial detail is required prior to stepping out into la evening Francais! Aimlessly wandering the Jewish quarter (refer to the websight 52 Suburbs for Paris), Kim and I came upon Le Archives National and La Terrace Des Archives located on the corner of Rue des Handrie and Rue Des Archives (natch!).

A varied clientelle of young and old occupied tables under canvas with our nearest neighbour reading Camus' "La Chute". Air kisses floated away as nearby bicyclists nonchalantly manouvered through motorised traffic. Unencumbered children skipped rope while their parents sipped aperitif in tall glasses. Non-smoking is optional. Continental nuances abound, and ours were enhanced by the sight of a passing denim clad female toting a cello and ear-encompassing headphones. Bopping to Yo Yo Ma no doubt!

According to the useful tome "On Foot Guides ~ Paris Walks" provided by Diane and Alex (many thanks!), "The fascinating and distinctly different district of Le Marais rose from marshland (marais) in the 17th century to become crammed with beautiful mansions occupied by royalty and nobility. It's demise during the Revolution was inevitable and swift, and it wasn't until the 1960s that attention again turned to ruined pre-Revolutionary architecture and restoration began. Today it is buzzing: several of its hotels have become prestigious museums, and a young crowd hang out in the cafes and browse in the fashion shops."

Never a truer word was written, for the crowded cafe-lined Rue de Bretagne could make one feel quite ancient, if that sort of sensation floats your boat. It was all too apparent that this was happy hour and far too early to imagine dining. A minuscule market place serviced by produce counters was, however, providing a range of appetising dishes to customers perched at outdoor benches. We were looking for something quite different and continued our stroll along Rue de Young et Beautiful, before pausing and unsuccessfully trying to imagine somewhere in Australia that could match this.

Turning right down Rue De Turenne, we sat at a brasserie between multi-national tables and for some five minutes unsuccessfully waited for waiters. Despite our parched and withered visages, not a refreshment was to be had, but the time was not wasted for the passing parade and ancient neighborhood made it memorable. Cafe Des Musees cornered by rue du Parc Royal beckoned, and despite not having a booking, we were seated near the bar cum kitchen between tables of French and American women. Whilst the French shared conversation, I began to wonder when the woman to my right was going to pause for breath and her meal. Her companion amiably listened and smiled as the domination of conversation continued.

Perusing the menu we both alighted on the second entree option Mushrooms stuffed with snails!. Forget about choosing differing entrees to share, this was not going to happen. White hot ramekins garlicky and steaming were soon disappearing with the sauce sopped up by bread. "This makes up for all those occasions on which I missed out on the garlic prawns" sighed Kim. No chance of allergies with these escargot. The main courses of boeuf and agneau stood no chance of competing and were consumed with a very drinkable Rhone.

€95 later a tired but satisfied pair wended their way home to Rue Vaucanson only rarely retracing their steps.