Four days wasn’t near enough in Paris but the plan is the plan.

I checked out of my hotel on rue Blanche Wednesday morning and headed for Orly. It was a triple play. The #2 Metro to the RER B commuter train and then a seamless connection to the “OrlyVal” (an unmanned tram that goes fast).

It took an hour and fifteen minutes door to door from the 9th to Orly. And that’s with pretty thick rush-hour hustle/bustle.

Both major Paris airports have excellent public transit options. Well-marked and affordable, there’s no reason not to use the trains unless your luggage makes navigation of stairs difficult.

At Orly, I caught an Air France flight to Toulouse. I flew standby at a reduced cost thanks to the travel privileges tied to my job. This aspect of my processing was somewhat complicated. I did the check-in and bag tag on a stand-alone machine like everybody else but when I attempted to drop the suitcase, the technology blocked me. After intervention from a human, I was instructed to go to a special “zone” mainly set up for passengers with oversized luggage. The airline also used this space to clear standbys. I was instructed that I wouldn’t be considered for clearance until 30 minutes prior to departure. I was way early. At some point, a neatly-dressed older worker approached me to see which flight I was waiting for.

Air France has at least hourly service to Toulouse from Orly – so the guy moved me up to the trip one hour earlier. When I asked if this would create a conflict with my already-tagged bag for the later flight, he said it wasn’t a problem.

When I reached Toulouse, it was not a shock my bag didn’t join me. But it also didn’t make the next one. I was in no hurry – so it wasn’t a big deal – but the way it all went down suggests to me that Air France’s baggage stats probably aren’t all that great.

I had an exit row seat on the Airbus 320. The flight lasted just 60 minutes.

On Tuesday, I went to Parc des Princes for PSG-Dijon Ligue 1 action.

You might say there wasn’t a whole lot of mustard on this one.

Despite a sluggish start in league play, PSG toyed with Dijon in a flavorless and plain 3-nil victory for Paris.

St.G’s first goal came on a Dijon flub job. Adam Lang redirected a Maxwell looper past his own keeper Baptiste Reynet. It was an ugly-looking score. Edinson Cavani got PSG’s second goal on a PK after a foul in the box on a darting Adrien Rabiot.

Flashy Hatem Ben Arfa is a 14 mil Euros piece added this year but he’s so deep in the doghouse of PSG entraineur Unai Emery that he didn’t play in this one. Cavani seemed to generate the most noise when he touched the ball Tuesday night.

Attendance was 42,484 but there were lots of empty seats. I paid 28 euros at the box office for my seat in the corner (about even with goal line) about halfway up.

Policemen bearing heavy weaponry and military-like garb were impossible to miss outside the venue. I had a sandwich, soda and fudge brownie at the match for 9 E.

The vibe and venue were so-so. PSG has been so stacked in recent years relative to the rest of league membership, it’s hard to get too excited about their dominance.

While I can’t attend the match, I’ll be rooting for Toulouse FC and their magical coach Pascal Dupraz to knock off PSG on Friday night here in Toulouse.

In no better health than American thoroughbred racing, I visited one of France’s great flat tracks Monday.

The crowd at L’Hippodrome de St. Cloud was light and of the same demographics you see on a regular day at the track in the US.

Seb and Valerie joined me as we took a train and bus to reach St. Cloud just off the western edge of the city limits of Paris.

It’s a beautiful facility in all respects. It’s well-kept despite its age. It opened in 1901. A man sitting at a table just outside the admission gate sold the national edition of Paris-Turf for two euros. It was the only available printed wagering resource I saw that was for sale.

Paris-Turf has news, entries and results for the country’s race cards. Past performance information was scant relative to what you get from DRF so I just played Christophe Soumillon mounts in every race he rode. He failed to win on Monday.

Valerie played a “place” bet in the featured 4th and her horse Smart Whip finished third. Because the field size for that event was 18 (more than 8) she cashed big because of Whip’s long odds. In races where the field size is eight or less, a place bet is the same as a place bet in the States, and your horse must finish second of better.

It was Valerie’s first time at the races. She cashed three tickets – and I think she got the bug.  The racing bug.

In the 5th, the horse Seb wagered on dumped his rider and fled. Broadcloth sent Pierre-Charles Boudot to the grass and ran away just before the race. While we were concerned for the colt’s safety, it was a comic scene and Boudot briefly set chase on foot.

I’m not exaggerating when I say Broadcloth was loose for a solid 10-15 minutes. He ran at least three or four times the actual race distance before apprehension. I was shocked to see the rest of field circle patiently near the gate the entire time and then watch as Broadcloth was loaded for the race.

There’s no way a Broadcloth-type situation would yield anything other than a scratch in the States. But here he was, allowed to participate, despite clearly using all his gas on the frolick.

He finished last.

Admission was 5 euros. I had an excellent ham and cheese sandwich for 5 euros. Beers were 3.5 euros. We placed our wagers on betting machines that were pretty simple to understand despite the single language option.

The compact nature of the plant allowed for easy movement between seating, betting and the beautiful paddock area.

You get a great view of the Paris skyline as you face the track.

After the field crosses the finish line, they deposit into a gorgeous open space of grass, make a right turn and scamper back to the barn on a narrow path right in front of the grandstand.

It was there after the final race that I saw a disgruntled horseplayer throw a crumpled up ticket at the horse/jockey combo he had bet on. He muttered something at the rider and threw the balled-up piece of paper right at him. It actually kinda scared me given how a horse might react to a sudden projectile.

On Monday night, we saw the Nashville singer/songwriter Stewart Bronaugh and his band Lionlimb at a Paris club called Supersonic. It was cool although the crowd chatter was way too high. Bronaugh opened with a number that immediately made you think Elliott Smith.

One full day left in Paris. Gonna try to see PSG/Dijon tonight.