I admit that I am unimaginative in my approach to this place. I am here often enough that I have developed my favorites and I rarely stray. For example, it is a sad morning that does not begin with breakfast here:
Café les Editeurs
And an unusual visit that does not include lunch here:
Café la Varenne: poaced egg on ratatouille
And lately, I have been smitten with Ze Kitchen Gallerie, which is supremely modern and clever and has a wonderful view of the kitchen where a stunning chef will catch your eye if you stare long enough.
glancing over
you're not photographing me, are you?
no...
such talent...
Okay, so it was a day of reruns. There’s more. Rare is the trip that doesn’t include a stop at Bon Marche, the left bank store that still manages to cater mostly to left bankers (with far more substantial bank accounts than my own, bust still, I have bought more suitcases there than I want to admit, including this time, since a favorite issued its last breath and died).
And I think I have never been here without walking the hour or so, through the back streets, to the Eiffel Tower.
The Tower itself is not the draw, but the walk past the great Place des Invalides, the left bank shops, markets, quite streets is.
Saturday exuberance
typical here, less so at American markets
Or maybe the Tower has a small magnetic power as well. After all, I always do take photos of it. Because you and I may forget that in the early summer it looks like this:
Finally, I have taken to bypassing pastry shops. But on this day, we were looking at a display in one and a Frenchman paused to say this: you know, if you eat one a day you wont regret it. Even two a day. French people lose weight when they eat them.
Not that we needed convincing.
