"We'll Always Have Paris"

Sunset on the Seine. (Self-portrait taken on the Pont des Arts.)

When we were signing the apartment papers at the end of July with the rental agent, he asked us how long we were staying in Paris. When we told him, he said, "Is there enough to do in Paris for three weeks?"

My stomach did a little lurch when he said that. What if 3 weeks was too much time in one place? What if we got bored? What if there wasn't enough to do?

Well, I am here to tell you that I could stay in Paris for 3 years, never mind 3 weeks. We were on the move the entire time and there are still things on our 'to do' list. We ate, we drank, we walked. We soaked up the art, the architecture, the music, the fashion, the history. We laughed, we were moved to tears, we met new people, saw old friends.

We'll always have Paris.

We leave for home this evening. I'm hoping to get to my beloved 'Luxembourg Gardens' one more time this afternoon before we have to bid adieu to this amazing city.

I can hardly wait to come back.

Gallows Humour

A plaque commemorating Oscar Wilde at L'Hotel, 13 Rue des Beaux-Arts.

On one of our many walks around Paris, we came across the hotel where Oscar Wilde died. Wilde was a broken man when he died in a scuzzy hotel over 100 years ago. (The hotel is very up-scale now.)

On his death bed he remarked, "Either that wallpaper goes, or I do."

Door Fetish

The door to Gertrude Stein's apartment building where she lived from 1903-1938 at 27 Rue des Fleurus.

I think I may be developing a door fetish over here in Paris. I cannot stop taking pictures of them! And there are thousands of incredible doors in this city. I can't seem to walk down one single, solitary street without taking at least one photo of a door.

Pillars Of The Earth

The Gothic ceiling of St. Eustache Church near Les Halles. It took 100 years to build from 1532 to 1632.

Ever since reading Ken Follett's 'Pillars of the Earth', I have been fascinated with the architecture of medieval churches and cathedrals. Especially the ceilings and roofs. How they built these structures in the Middle Ages is quite beyond me. It boggles my mind.

I Heart Paris #5

Boulangerie Poilane on Rue du Cherche-Midi is one of the most famous Parisian bakeries.

More reasons to love Paris....

• Boulangeries that sell their big, heavy, rustic loaves of bread by the kilogram.

Overheard In The Street

Cobblestones on Rue Bernard-Palissy; a street unchanged since the 1600s.

This morning Joe and I were walking to Saint Sulpice church to attend the 10:30am mass. We were keeping our voices low because many of the apartment windows were wide open and it was early Sunday morning. We passed a man chaining up his bike and he said to us as we passed, "Why are you whispering? Don't be ashamed because you don't speak French."

The French Think Of Everything

When we were at Le Bon Marche Grand Epicerie last week, we saw this roll of what I thought was paper towel. It was bubble gum pink. And cost 12 euros. "Hmmmm," I thought. "I know things are very expensive in Paris, but that doesn't sound quite right."

Upon closer inspection, I discovered that it wasn't paper towel at all! It was a roll of 100% cotton serviettes. Complete with perforations between the napkins! How adorable is that?

Of course we just HAD to buy a roll of it.

Safety Last

Joe is standing in front of a knee-high wooden barricade that runs the length of the bluffs at Gold Beach in Normandy. Beyond the narrow patch of grass there is a very steep 400 foot drop to the ocean. The family beside Joe are returning from standing at the edge of the grass and were even leaning over to see how far down the sand was. Safety last!


In Canada, we are extremely safety conscious. We have tall barricades, and helmet laws, and signage, and caged overpass walkways, and battery-operated flameless candles. Compared to North American standards, France is one big accident waiting to happen.

Our family jokes that one of France's mottos should be "Safety Last"!

Here are a few 'safety last' things I've seen lately....

• The long, ground floor corridor between our apartment building and the carriage doors to the street is quite dark. Even in the daytime. There are a couple of light switches that turn on some dim lights, but they are in very inconvenient places. Hence my groping of the walls to feel my way along so that I don't trip. Again.
  

• No one wears a helmet while riding their bikes. The other day I saw a father (no helmet) riding a bike with his baby (no helmet) in a seat on the back. AND THE DAD RAN A RED LIGHT IN BUSY TRAFFIC! That one took my breath away.
  

• Cars do stop when the crossing light turns green for pedestrians. But please pay attention. The drivers will take advantage of your inattentiveness and drive through the cross-walk if you are looking the other way.

• I swear the hot water in this apartment is only 1 or 2 degrees below the boiling point. You only have to turn the tap to the cold setting to get really hot water.

• The sink tap in the bathroom is plumbed backwards. (Hot is cold; and vice versa.) I keep forgetting this fact and have almost scalded my tongue a few times while brushing my teeth!
  

Les Bouquinistes

'Les Bouquinistes' (used book sellers) are a Parisian fixture along the Seine. They have been in operation since the 1500s. As I walk past their stalls each day, I gaze longingly at their wares because I am a used book FREAK!

Man, I wish I could read French......

Music

Waiting for the Vivaldi concert to begin at La Sainte-Chapelle. Joe got us front row seats.

Not only is Paris noted for its art, history, fashion, architecture and food. There is music EVERYWHERE in this city. Posters advertising all manner of concerts are plastered on walls of the streets and the metro. Buskers play in the streets and the metro. Whatever genre of music you love, it is here in Paris.

On Wednesday night, Joe took me to a jazz club in 'Le Marais', a funky district of Paris. The venue was about 10 square metres with low ceilings and brick walls. Over 100 people were squished into this tiny room. Thank God the indoor smoking ban was implemented 2 years ago! The musicians were fabulous. We could only stay for 2 sets though, and had to leave at 12:30am or else the metro would have been shut down and we would have had a lonnnnnng walk home. It was a highly entertaining evening.

The next night was my choice. I chose a classical concert at La Sainte-Chapelle. I chose it for two reasons. One: I love Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons'. Two: I love Sainte-Chapelle. And any music played in the sanctuary of that cathedral is alright by me.

Sainte-Chapelle is a triumph of Gothic church architecture and its stained glass windows are second to none. To think it was built in 1248 for King Louis IX (the only French king who is now a saint) in only 5 years is incredible. To put it in perspective, Notre Dame took 200 years to build.

What a setting for the musicians to play their violins, harpsichord, cello and bass! Again, another highly enjoyable evening.

Paris.....I love you.

I Heart Paris #4

The heated towel rack in our apartment.

More reasons to love Paris....

• The heated towel racks. So that when you wrap the warm bath towel around yourself after getting out of the shower it feels cozy on your wet skin.

• In the larger grocery stores there is an employee who sits at a desk in the middle of the produce area whose job it is to weigh your fruits and vegetables for you.

• You can buy the freshest fruits and vegetables from a vendor deep in the bowels of the metro. We bought some of the tastiest strawberries from such a place yesterday.
  

Two Metro Stories

Story #1

Even though the metro trains come and go every few minutes, people still hurry if they enter the platform area and see the train sitting there. This was the situation I found myself in last week.

We were walking down the stairs to the metro platform when Joe said, "Hurry! Our train is here and it's about to leave!" So I hurried. I ran down the stairs and got into a car just as the doors were closing. "Whew! That was close!" I said to myself. And since I had just squeezed my buttocks through the doors milliseconds before they closed, I wasn't yet holding on to any pole.

The train lurched, I stumbled forward, and as I went to catch myself I inadvertently hit a young man's face with the back of my hand. Not a hard hit, mind you. But my hand definitely grazed his cheek. I whispered in my best French accent, "Pardon, monsieur. Pardon!" And then in English, "I am SO sorry!"

His facial expression did not change, but I could read the horrification in his eyes since I had a very good view from 1 inch away.

I straightened myself up and walked to a seat.

Shit happens.


Story #2

This morning Joe and I were taking the metro to a street market on Rue Monge. When we're not walking we take the metro EVERYWHERE. At least twice, if not three times a day. We like to sit in the flip-down seats near the doors as it allows us easy entrance (well, except for the incident described in story #1) and exit.

I sat down on one of the seats and just as I was in the middle of crossing my legs (with only one foot on the floor), the train lurched and I toppled into the aisle. With great grace and agility I was able to prevent a full pratfall and easily regained my upright position. As I started to laugh, I looked around at the Parisian faces and saw that they were not amused. The man closest to me was disgusted by my antics. I'm sure he thought, "For the love of God woman, have some dignity and stay in your seat!"

It just made me laugh harder.

No Singing

Some birthday euros (thanks Chrissy!) were burning a hole in my pocket, so once again Joe and I hit the flea market. I have bought old French signs from the Paris flea markets in the past, so I purchased another one to add to my growing collection.

At first I thought this sign said something about not being able to sing in public. I had the vendor tell me what it said. It says and I quote: "This building site is off-limits to the public."

I like my translation better.

Chronicles of Narnia

When we are in our apartment, life is a very mundane affair. We cook, we eat, we do the dishes, we sleep.

But after we walk downstairs and go through the dark courtyard, something happens to me when I push on those huge, heavy carriage doors. When I step out onto Rue du Bac there is a feeling in my chest that I can't describe. But I'll try. The feeling is big and happy and excited and full of wonder. I think, "This is how the Penvensie children must have felt when they entered Narnia through the back of the wardrobe!"

I'm sure my mouth hangs open every time I enter onto the street. I am so grateful to be here.

A Late Lunch

A bowl of pho at Dong Huong restaurant in Belleville

The monsieur and I were at a low ebb the other day. We slept in, dawdled during breakfast, showered, read our books, washed the dishes and I think Joe may even have taken a morning nap. We FINALLY got our act together and headed out the door to go and have lunch.

Our destination was Belleville for some Vietnamese food. As we were walking up onto the street from the metro, Joe laughed as he looked at his watch. He said, "You won't believe this, but it's 5 o'clock!"

I love late lunches.

Musee Rodin

The statue of 'Le Penseur' (The Thinker) in the Rodin Museum gardens.

The best thing about the Rodin Museum, besides the amazing sculptures, is that most of it is outside in a garden in the middle of the city. This is one of Joe's favourite stops on the art history trail. It only costs 1 euro to enter the gardens, and many Parisians take advantage of this incredible deal.

Musee D'Orsay

Of all the art museums I've been to in my life, I must say the Musee D'Orsay is my absolute favourite. Its home is the old Gare D'Orsay train station and is full of French art of the 1800s. It houses the best collection of Manet, Monet, Renoir, Degas, van Gogh, Cezanne, and Gauguin. If you like Impressionism, go to this museum. If you don't like Impressionism, go to this museum.

I'd take the Orsay over the Louvre any day.

Window Licking

It seems that every window display of every shop on every street in Paris is a work of art. I could wander the streets for years just window shopping. The French term for this pastime is faire du leche-vitrines which literally translated means 'window licking'.

American and Canadian Foods

The other day, Joe and I went to Le Bon Marche Grand Epicerie. The Bon Marche is Paris' oldest department store. It opened in 1852 and was the first large-scale store to offer fixed prices. No more bargaining. They have one department store for clothing, perfume and furniture; and another separate Bon Marche (Le Grand Epicerie) devoted entirely to food. Can you guess which one Joe dragged me into?

This food store was like no other I've ever seen. It was high class and HUGE! Every foodstuff known to man was for sale. Fresh fish, fowl, meats of every description. Fruits and veg. Prepared foods. Frozen foods. Condiments. A deli section. A dairy section. A bakery. A butcher. We were agog with the quality and selection of the food. And the prices!

But the section that stopped us dead in our tracks was the 'Etats-Unis et Canada' aisle. There in front of us stood shelf upon shelf of Lay's potato chips, Duncan Hines cake mixes, M&Ms, Jack Daniels barbecue sauce, Paul Newman's salad dressings, French's mustard (now there's a joke), canned pumpkin pie filling, and many other North American foods.

It was embarrassing, really. "Is this the kind of food we're known for in the world?" I asked Joe. "I guess it is," he replied.

So if you find yourself in Paris with a craving for 'marshmallow fluff', you'll know exactly where to go. Le Bon Marche Grand Epicerie on Rue de Sevres. Tell them Nancy sent you.

Brunch With Friends

On Sunday, Joe and I hosted the Bradfords at our apartment for brunch. I met Tara two years ago through her blog "Paris Parfait". (To check out her fabulous blog click here.) When we were in Paris in 2007, she and her husband kindly invited us for lunch and we wanted to repay the favour this year.

Joe was anxious to try out his new crepe pan that he bought at E. Dehellerin a couple of weeks ago. Brunch was a simple meal of crepes, fresh fruit, yogurt, and lots of strong coffee. Our conversation swirled around our families, American and French politics, books we were reading, and retirement plans.

It is comforting to have new friends when you're on the other side of the world.

I'll be meeting Tara again for lunch later on in the week. I am looking forward to it.