The breakfast buffet at the Auberge du Pere Bise isn't huge. In that lies its charm. Curated, like at an art show, to pull out the best so that you'll pick out not your standards, but their choices for you. So that you'll be excited not just by a croissant, but by their cheeses (lake fish and cured meats too, but I pass on those), by their home made yogurt. By their pain perdu.
I'm the first one down today. The train, I have that train to catch. Madame who is at the breakfast buffet greets me by name. I find this to be so impressive. She is not the same as yesterday's breakfast madame. But she, like all the staff here, always include Madame Camic when they talk to me. And today the breakfast person asks -- would you like pain perdu for your last breakfast with us? She noted it's my last breakfast and that I didn't always eat the French toast on previous ones. It's not a very large hotel -- 23 rooms total, but still, do the staff members sit down each morning with the guest list and memorize who is who? At my beloved Paris hotel, it took them several years of frequent visits to finally greet me by name when I showed up. Oh, I'm family now, but I had to prove myself. Here, four days and nights is proof enough.
Would you like your usual cappuccino Madame Camic?
I take my walk before I sit down. To admire one last time what's blooming here, by the shores of Annecy.
(Gaura dominates. Just like at home!)
And to cast one last look at the mountains before sunrise, and of course, the lake itself.
And now to the Auberge, for my last meal there.
Breakfast. With blueberry juice ("Madame Camic, there is no sugar added. Are you sure?") and the same cheese made a five hour hike from here. And a baguette with local butter, and honey taken from the hives of the Auberge. And pain perdu.
(at my favorite corner table: garden to the left, lake and mountains to the front)
And punctually at 9:29, the train leaves Annecy for Paris.
And at 1:14, as scheduled, it pulls into the Gare Lyon in Paris.
Now, how should I go to the hotel? On the one hand, I feel my legs have gotten some more muscle to them in the past days, so a walk, even with the backpack and suitcase, is doable. The taxi stand has a long line and the metro connection isn't great, in that I would need to take two separate metro lines. And the weather! For the rest of my stay here and starting today, the temps hover around 80F (27C). It's too warm, but it surely begs for a walk.
So I walk.
I take the Right Bank circuit this time, which is slightly more attractive...
(Canal Saint Martin and the Bastille Monument)
... but it is longer and, too, it's Sunday and the flocks are out. The restaurants spilling onto sidewalks are packed... Truly, 50% of Paris must be eating right now. Outdoors. At a restaurant.
The strollers and the tourists and the families and everyone is out and about. So I say a lot of pardon, as I weave my way through the not so quiet streets. And still, in Paris, you can always find that quiet corner.
Feeling somewhat burdened with luggage, I'm not wanting to stop for a midday meal. But, there are snack opportunities and I seize on one as I cross the Isle St-Louis! Here:
For this (not colorful, but absolutely delicious -- honey nougat and caramel salted butter):
I'm thinking -- it's so easy to put yourself in a Lake Annecy mode after having been in Paris. It's harder to reenter urban life after Lake Annecy. But, it's Paris, I love Paris, I'm staying close to a park, and my beloved Hotel Baume is on such a quiet street that once I get there, I forget about the crowds outside. Heck, let there be crowds! Let everyone enjoy the great Parisian outdoors!
(At the hotel Baume: the quiet of my room -- heaven!)
Tonight, my two architect friends from Warsaw, Karolina and Pawel, arrive for a Parisian meet up. The last time I saw them was when they visited me in Madison more than a year ago. I am very happy that they found the time to come to Paris! We have some catching up to do!
But I do still have the late afternoon to myself and I surely should go to the park... Maybe grab a coffee first? Or a glass of rose? I canvas the neighborhood for the perfect spot and I find it, actually just two steps from the doors of my hotel. The Odeon Theater has a cafe on the square that in good weather fills with locals and visitors alike. I settle in to chat with Ed, to take in a FaceTime with a granddaughter, to finish the book that has held me captive on this trip. And to people watch.
(the two girls move around on their scooters, the parents walk)
(mamman loves papa -- so what else is new...)
(Grandmere, can I show you how to use that app?)
On my phone call with Ed, he says I caught him in the middle of a visit to the Monroes Street Farmers Market. They have a delivery of pawpaw trees! -- he tells me with some excitement.
I did not know we were in the market for pawpaw trees.
Apparently you dont find many such trees for sale and you rarely find pawpaw fruit at the market (hard to grow, hard to keep fresh). But lo, a grower is selling some baby pawpaw saplings and Ed is looking to replace about a dozen failures among the five dozen nut trees and maples we planted a couple of years ago.
I'll help you put them in when I get back.
Too late! I have to do it in the next day or two!
How soon will they bear fruit?
Maybe 4-7 years from now.
I laugh at that. In one of our phone calls, Ed predicted I'd be moving out of the farmette within five years, because it will have become too much work for me by then. He was teasing, but realistically, it's not an off the wall speculation. Of course, either one of us could become overwhelmed by the work required to keep the farmette running, but I know Ed imagines himself to live there and only there. Eh, who can tell! Maybe we'll both be spooning out pawpaw into a ripe old age!
Time to take a walk in the Luxembourg Gardens. Ah, the Sunday crowds! And they belong here! The weather, the anticipation of winter, the freedom that so often comes with a Sunday afternoon, the kids that need a good run before the evening sets in...
But here too, even on a Sunday afternoon, you can always find that quiet spot. For love...
For finishing my book.
In the evening, I'm pretty much starving for dinner -- I go back to Georgette for that, because it's such a neighborhood place and I know I will hear French spoken at the table next to mine and that is indeed the case.
(a family... she's the daughter, with her boyfriend... that's a guess. I love to be the one trying to piece together the puzzle of their lives!)
I order what so often tempts me when I am away from home and in a place that does meat well -- a beef filet (with potatoes dauphinois, and braised endive). What can I say -- every once in a while, the idea of a good cut of meat is... irresistible.
Back at the hotel now -- they're here!
They check in, and then we go out. To the Bucci neighborhood, where there is plenty of activity and food/drink choice. It's so good to spend these first few hours together in the warmth of an October evening!
Such a special night! But I know my limits. Eventually, I leave them to their own Parisian escapades. It's nearly midnight -- I need to call it quits for now.
Good night you two! Good night to all good people everywhere!
with love...
