Observations from the 19th - 3-21-15

***Vignettes from Deb:

 

***Paris is in bloom – pink blossoming trees, white ones, yellow blooming bushes, and patches of bright gold crocus in the grass, like spilled sunshine under the overcast skies. Jonquils waving in the gusty, cold winds and tied in bunches for sale on the streets. Every little park or raised bed along the sidewalks is bedecked with spring blooms. Such a delightful relief from all the concrete of this huge city.

***And the flower shops! At least one every few blocks. Big ones with seeds for sale and trees and pots and tools. Little hole-in-the-wall ones with imaginative displays out front, just a few feet wide, taking advantage of every inch (2.5 centimeters) to tempt with little pots of bright narcissus and fancy ruffled grape hyacinths. Mundane displays in front of bricolage (handyman) stores that still make cheerful patches of color. People walking home with baguettes and bouquets, both necessities of life here.

***In response to several questions, no, we’ve not had a single rude waiter since we’ve been here this month. Not one. By contrast, we’ve actually had some fun exchanges with various wait staff from the proprietor of the wonderful seafood place we stumble across (who loved recommending his favorite Vielle Prune, an old fashioned liqueur, to Warren) to the charming waitress at the wine bar/bistro who laughingly suggested that between her poor English and my maladroit French we could figure how to do a reservation over the phone to the handsome young guy waiting on us in a crowded bistro who said he had an ex-girlfriend in Phoenix and would love to visit the Western US. (we suggested he get a job as a waiter in Santa Fe – they would love him at Santa Café.)

***About the lack of rude waiters, maybe it’s because we’re not eating in the busy tourist areas, or maybe because it’s not yet the height of tourist season or maybe because we always try in French and keep to our theory that if you make a fool of yourself first in another language, it sets people more at ease with trying to speak your language. Maybe we just look elderly and peaceful and non-threatening. Who knows?

 

***Two other nice interchanges with locals:

 

***We were trying to find the little conveyance that was supposed to be outside the train station to take people over to the antique show we were going to. We overheard two French guys asking a bus driver about it, and long story short, we ended up following them and finding the “bus”. We struck up a conversation with them, thanking them for leading us around. It turns out that they run horse carriages around the extensive park at the Chateau Fontainebleau. (looking at their website, they do many other things, too, including competitive carriage driving training, training carriage horses, providing carriages for weddings and state funerals, etc.) They were just enjoying the antique fair on one of their last days before their very busy season begins. We’re going to go out to see huge Fontainebleau, and have them take round the huge park for a ride in one of their carriages.

*** Sitting in a nearby wine bar/bistro mentioned before, Warren noticed that an seventy-something lady had left her purse behind when she moved to another table. We started to chat in our hesitating French and had a lovely time visiting with her. She switched to equally hesitant English after a bit, saying she wanted to practice since she used it so often travelling. Asked where she’d been most recently, we somewhat startled when she said “Mongolia, staying in a yurt and travelling by pony.” Hardy, these French. Her fortyish son appeared about that time, and it turns out he’s a restauranteur, coming to eat in his old friend’s bistro. We’re going to check out the son’s restaurant next week.

 

***Probably a good thing to eat in more restaurants. I’m cooking like an absolute neophyte. Poor, long suffering Warren is being a good sport (editors note: most of you are aware of my sporting instincts when it comes to food, i.e. I'm soldiering on manfully), but I’m sure my fumbling efforts are disappointing to have to put up with in one of the world’s great food towns. Everything from a new kind of stove (ceramic top) to the different altitude/cooking time and temperature changes to reading directions for the oven in French is making me feel like a first-time cook. I’m sure that all this mental stimulation is good for brain health, but I think not so good for digestion. 
 
 

A San Francisco sort of foggy day 3-20-15

Well today it was supposed to be sunny and warm, and it was if you live in San Francisco!  Overcast and grey, we had a total eclipse of the sun up north with partials all over Northern Europe, of course had a total eclipse of the sky.  

We did a large marketing run this morning, we found several critical magasins which in their absence up to now had us worrying.  We found a Fromagerie(cheese), a Poissonnerie (fish), and a Boucherrie (meat) all within spitting distance of our primary vegetable vendor.  A bonus was finding a small shop that stocks only produce and products from local or within Paris' greater metro area Bio (organic) growers and very tiny.

These furnished us with fun lunch, of cheese, sausage, olives, bread, and wine.  Afterward, Deb was checking all of the receipts and noticed that the fish monger had neglected to charge us for the fillet of Sabre and the Crevettes, so on our way back out we stopped at the shop to pay them.  They couldn't understand what we were trying to say, thinking perhaps that we had come to complain about not getting fish or being overcharged, etc. , but they were really surprised when they finally understood that we wanted to pay for the fish and shrimp.   They sifted through every piece of paper they had in the trash but couldn't find the original receipt, so we had them way another fillet and agreed we would pay for that.  They refused to charge us for the shrimp, for our honesty, but I think now we will have a very friendly fish monger in the future.  At dinner, the Sabre fillets were delicious, with fresh young green beans, potatoes and a lovely Pouilly Fume.

After squaring up with the fish monger, we decided to take a walk on Rue Mouffetard a vaunted street good for strolling with many small markets.  To get there we wanted to take the Metro line 7 which literally goes within 2 blocks, so we walked over to Rue de Flandres (across the canal) perhaps a 10 minute walk.  As we got to the metro stop I realized that my monthly Navigo pass was in my other jacket so had to buy another ticket to ride.  During the ride down I realized that I left the Paris map on the table, crap!  I got it out specifically to be able to navigate. Not the end of the world as we had an enjoyable paseo up and down rue Mouffetard and sat outside with a beer at the Place de Contrescarpe to watch the world go by.   I fell in love with this little place because it really show how Paris was stitched together from a host of small villages in close proximity.  


A pleasant trip home on the metro, again biting into my beer funds, had us enjoying the aforementioned dinner of Sabre fish.  This was the canal at evening on the way home.

What's a (mostly) normal day in Paris like 3-19-15

***FROM DEB:  In response to some questions about what our everyday schedule is, I’ll give a quick summary. Warren gets up around 6 and I wake up around 7. He often sprints out to get us fresh baguettes or croissants and then makes tea while I stare blankly at whatever object is directly in front of me. After a cup of good Kusmi English Breakfast tea, I become mostly functional. We send and answer emails, do some little household chores (watering plants, putting away dishes, sweeping endless breadcrumbs of the white tile floor in the kitchen, etc.) and usually read a bit about what we’re planning to see that day. After getting dressed and making sure we have our house keys (a MAJOR concern since we have no backup system and locksmiths cost a FORTUNE), we head out, as Warren comments “at the crack of 10:00”. Or sometimes later. Much later.

 

***We then head either for the bus or for the Metro. Metro is faster, but has lots of stairs that my fussy hip is currently complaining about (just a touch of arthritis and getting better every day, thank you to those of you who asked). The slower busses let us see so much more of the neighborhoods. Takes us somewhere between ~15 minutes to an hour to get where we might want to go.

We maybe pack an easy picnic lunch, or pick up a good sandwich at one of the bakeries, or because it’s still cold, pick a pleasant-looking bistro.

 

***We have been exploring museums, a love of ours, or taking annotated walks laid out in several of the walking books we brought. Both choices often result in us taking off, just to see something that catches our fancy. We wander around quite a bit, ant-fashion. No straight lines. For example, today we ran across the newly renovated Picasso Museum on the way to the Cognacq-Jay Museum, and found the first public library of Paris (housed in a magnificent 17^th century building) while just walking over to look at a corner turret. We stumbled across an area of antique stores that I had read about (Village St. Paul in the Marias) accidentally by heading up an interesting looking street.

 

***Anyway, after doing whatever, we’ve been ending up staggering home somewhere between 6 and 8. My days of 12 hour sightseeing are definitely over. Six or eight hours and I’m done.

 

***I whip up a bit of dinner, which I have to do before I sit down or I’m doomed. One or the other of us does dishes. We try to catch the news, either BBC or SkyNews or the French news if we’re not feeling brain-dead. Spend a bit of time translating words we didn’t understand during the day and having a good laugh over what we thought they meant and didn’t. Warren’s been catching a little rugby on TV and improving his sportscasting French. I’m slowly making my way through a giant history of art book I brought with us.

 

***And so to bed…

We really are moving into Spring 3-16-15

Today we went down and had lunch at Angelina, reputed to be the best hot chocolate in Paris and I believe it.   I had a nice salad with foie gras while Deb had a delectable mushroom quiche, but for desert I had Chocolate chaud (hot chocolate) and it was over the top good.  Afterward we walked across rue de Rivoli into the Tuilleries and sat for perhaps half an hour in the sun.  It was interesting to see a promotional photo shoot taking place wherein they had covered a large stretch of gravel with a white carpet and covered several chairs in a coating of false snow.  They then had a few models dressed up in complete winter gear to model clothing I presume.  I asked myself, why now?  Why not several weeks back when there was likely to be snow on the ground?  Ah well, it's Paris.


I've been taking pictures of people who are working in Paris, artists, restaurant workers, tour guides etc.  I think they are interesting and they really add to the pastiche that is Paris.  I'll post some on Facebook in an album sometime in the near future.   Anyway a very interesting group today were dog walkers, two guys with maybe 12-15 dogs, but the best one of all was a German Shepard whose task was keeping the leash for a beagle, he carried it in his mouth and whenever the entourage stopped he would drop it and stand on it with a foot then pick it back up when walking resumed. They are the two on the very left in the picture.  Among them also was an Aussie Shepard looking dog, on the right, who was off leash altogether but he knew his role and kept up with the group, sitting when required and walking along side when all were in motion.  I'm sure his role was rounding up miscreants who got off leash or started running away.

We ended up at the Louvre to see the 18th century rooms that have been renovated. But as we passed the room with La Joconda (Mona Lisa) I made a quick stop since it was relatively uncrowded.  The usual selfie takers were in evidence.  The restoration of not long ago really brings her back to her colorful glory.

A day for reality, cleaning day 3-15-15

Today was cold, overcast and windy all day.  A perfect day for our planned day of weekly cleanup, sweeping, washing, swabbing, etc.  So that is exactly what we've done.  Tomorrow we'll jump into the stream and visit the Louvre, assuming we don't get sidetracked by something just too interesting to pass up. 
I ordered a book online titled, 'One Thousand Buildings in Paris', we checked it out from the library in Denver and I got to page through it quickly just before we left for our October trip.   It was so much fun to see buildings that were included in the book that we felt it would be a great resource.   It's kind of like the book on the Angels of Paris I mentioned in the earlier post about the Angel of the Pushpin, only it's architecture.   Flanneury also requires that a person look on the streets with a certain amount of knowledge as they wander around.

Another Brocante derails us 3-14-15

We started out today headed for the Louvre to see the recently opened series of 18th century rooms that had been undergoing an update over the last couple years.  On the way we decided to go to a little Brocante that was just across the canal on the Rue de Flandres thinking it would be 8 or 9 local people getting together to sell garage sale type things, BIG Mistake.   We got over there and it was over a hundred booths setup selling everything under the sun.  Paintings, clothing, cameras, collectibles of every sort and description.  Needless to say we immediately changed course because what's the use of being a flaneur if you can't view the street life of Paris up close and personal?   I got to feeling like a 1.8 meter pile of S**t because every time I stopped to get out of the basic flow I seemed to be surrounded by flys just circling around me to grab and inspect suddenly fascinating bits and pieces of things.  Seriously this was a sort of frantic conga line, all these tiny and not so tiny madames ready to body check you out of the way.  I loved it!  

We toured the entire length, probably a kilometer in length twice and even managed to snag a couple things we absolutely could live without, but were so interesting that we opened the pocketbook.  A 19th/early20th century terracotta bust, a 1909 etching of construction of the Paris Metro near Notre Dame, and a 1960's Paris street atlas, a silver plate fork & spoon, and some regional sausages.  The Louvre will be there Monday but this market won't.

An afternoon of honeydo's 3-15-15

A couple days ago Deb commenced to doing her Yoga again and today she was pestered with a sore hip joint, wonder if there may be a connection there?  Hmm

Anyway, we had some chores that she wanted done as we add our personal touches to our apartment.  Things like additional pillows for the sofa so that she can sit more comfortably as it is very deep.  Also I wanted some material for making a tea cozy in which we will cover our new teapot.  So to that end, I headed over to Montmartre where there a so many fabric stores and I was sure I could find material for a tea cozy.

Of course I neglected to get a translation for quilted/insulated fabric so I wandered around several blocks and went into a couple stores to ask if they had any, Hah!  I'm certain they had it but trying to explain it without having something to point at was a Marcel Marceau nightmare.  And it didn't work! Too esoteric I think.  Anyway I was footing it up a small rue when I found some sitting on a table on the sidewalk, I stopped and I think it must have been a little sewing shop with some fabrics around, so I purchased a half meter which will be enough to make around 10 cozies, allowing for a couple aborted attempts.

I also sauntered around the Place du Tertre, the historic square on top of Montmartre, and took photos.  I decided that it would be interesting to take photos of the people working up there as artists and in the bar/restaurants.  As I was getting ready to leave I sat at a bench just outside the square and next to a small church, where I fell into a conversation (basic to say the least) with a couple artists who ply their trade for the tourists.  I told them I didn't have money for an impromptu portrait, and they were fine with that.  So I asked how many sales per day they made; the first said he did on average 3-4 per day for 20 euros per likeness, the second said he had not had a sale in 3 days so no money coming in.  The first fellow, who makes silhouettes, said he make one to show me how he did it and there would be no charge.  Sit still for a few minutes he said and went to work.  Less than 10 minutes later he showed me his work.  I looked at it and, you know how this will end, was amazed at his dexterity on cutting with scissors.  Of course I could not just take it as a souvenir even though he offered it to me, I think with sincerity.   The upshot, I paid for the silhouette which is now my profile picture, a fitting use indeed.  I also gave the other artist a little 'pour boire' with the comment that the first money is usually hardest to get, so this was a little jump start.   They were both extremely genial and a wonderful finish to the day. I took a photo and have posted it here you can see his box with a profile showing.  Besides a good conversation with genuine connection and sharing of ideas is worth the price of admission, especially for a plouc.