A break in the showers. Indeed, it's looking good out there in Paris land!
I go down to breakfast slowly and on the late side. Whereas at home, Henry and I are crunching away at 7:30, here in Paris, I'm oblivious to schedules, to routines, all of it.
Big breakfast again. Even though I don't need it.
Then in my room again. Definitely a slow start to the day. I don't leave the hotel until 11.
But where to? Aren't I going to stop by any museum, in this city of great art?
I am not. There is no special exhibition that draws me. I considered going to one anyway, but felt some relief when I saw it was closed today. So, no museums this time. Think of it this way: how often do you go to museums in your home town? Maybe several times a year. Surely not every day! That's the way I feel about Paris. Sometimes I have an urge to revisit one, or I take in a special exhibition, but on most days, I treat Paris as if it were my home. I take care of Paris stuff. I visit parks, shops, bakeries sometimes (again, not every day). I'll pause to watch and listen. Maybe at a cafe, maybe for lunch. I take it in.
So what direction for today? Well, I do want to check out Smith & Sons book shop, in part because Snowdrop wants a book from here, and she's not good enough in French for it to be French, and in part because I like the store and I like the route to get to it.
(friends cross paths, pause, kiss, dogs bark greetings)
It's about a 40 minute walk. Smith's is at the far corner of the Jardin Tuileries, so yes, I have to cross the river to the Right Bank.
(On the Left: Musee d'Orsay, Eiffel Tower...)
(in the park: man pauses, sits down and studies a music score...)
Outside the park, I enter a rather touristy area. I come across a souvenir shop. With Eiffel Towers! There you have it, Sparrow. I bought you one with sparkly stones. 6 Euro for a piece of junk, but hey, you are so worth it, my boy!
And now for the book shop. What? It's closed? Oh for Pete's sake! I was sure it would be open on a Monday. I look closely at the hours. Ah. It will open at 12:30. So in 45 minutes. I may as well hang out on the Right Bank until then. I don't want to repeat this particular hike at another time.
Oh, the Right Bank! I'm not completely opposed to walks there, but it is a different Paris for me. And this particular area -- between the gardens and the Opera -- has all the highest end designer shops.
Here's how bad it is -- in my entire one hour walk through it, I came across not a single small cafe to pause for a cup of tea. It's all high end stuff.
We all have items that we covet (except for Ed who covets nothing) and admire, stuff we can't afford, but it's usually stuff that's just a little out of reach. Not completely from a different planet. And I'm not one to put down other people's luxuries, but still, I have to wonder, who buys this stuff, and why?
Designers have to design. Yes, I understand. But with the expectation of a sale? In a shop? Along the Rue Saint-Honore? Well, who am I to judge. I just spent a lot of money on the adoption fees for another stray dog.
With my hour on the Right Bank, I decide to do a stroll by what are in fact incredibly beautiful places. Like the Place Vendome. And the Opera.
The first is lovely, but marred, I think, by all the black limos and the Ritz Hotel presence. Though I suppose Napoleon wouldn't have minded either one. There he stands, proudly looking on.
The old Opera is under renovation and it just adds to my grumblings about this side of the river. (In fairness, I like the eastern and northeastern arrondissements of Paris, also on the Right Bank, just fine. These central ones are just too commercial. Overwhelmingly so.
Back at Smith's I pick out a couple of books, enjoying the serenity of the store and its book loving customers.
And now I'm in a hurry to cross the Gardens again and head back to the Left Bank.
The thing is, if you cross the river right from the Gardens, you're going to wind up awfully close to Rue du Bac. This is the street where you'll find Cafe Varenne. I have been going to it for lunch (or dinner occasionally) on every visit to Paris for literally a quarter of a century. I am that bound to it. Yet this time, I waffled. I dont like doing things just because I have always done it that way. If Varenne wasn't going to be on my path, then I was actually prepared to (gulp!) skip it on this trip. And now here I am, on Rue du Bac, toward the tail end of the lunch hour. As if someone was shaking a finger at me, saying "Oh no you don't! Varenne is your sacred stone! I am going to place you there so that you wont be able to resist it!"
I eat lunch at Cafe Varenne.
(the tail end of the sacred lunch window at a very popular restaurant...)
And I am shocked, shocked to see for the first time a female waitress! How times have changed...
I order the fish soup and it is amazingly good. And yes, there stands a glass of wine, which I'd ordered, and then proceeded not to drink.
From there, it's just a hop skip to the department store again. Why go there? Well, much as I do not buy things for myself and especially for the house anymore, I am getting an IKEA loveseat that desperately needs some color. It was on sale and came only in the color I would call "bland." Wouldn't it be nice to get a colorful pillow cover from France for a throw pillow? That would count as a very useful souvenir. And I find one I like. You don't have to say it -- I do know that the dogs will chew off those dandly things at the corners!
Here's the problem: it's an unconventional pillow size. Why buy a pillow cover that then wont fit any of my pillows? Madame asks me -- do you want the pillow with it?
A pillow? In my one medium suitcase that already was pretty full and now has to have added books, clothes for kids, an Eiffel Tower, and lots of chocolate? Oh, but look madame, it is quite compressed out of the box! Well why not!
I also purchase at this beautiful store a comb made of gold.
Or it might as well be made of gold for the price they set on it. It's tiny and plastic and I need one just that size. So, a pillow and a tiny comb for me. I'm feeling very splurgy. Good thing I cut my trip short by two days.
I walk home the usual way, past my favorite shop where she makes lovely pieces of jewelry. Here's a pair of earings that tempted me!
Would you say I have dogs on my mind? So long as you're asking (!) -- I'm getting good reports on Henry now, especially from his time with other dogs. Here's a photo they sent me today:
Finally, at 5, I open the door to my sweet room at the Baume. And on my computer, I find a message from Three Little Pitties Rescue -- the organization that finds homes for some of Houston's homeless dogs. They checked my references, they checked my standing in the community (!) and they approved me! No small thing -- they had rejected two applicants for her already, based on the FaceTime meeting alone! I don't know why I'm good in their eyes. Maybe the pooch said to them after the FaceTime -- this one. I want this one! She spoils her dogs!
I go to dinner just around the corner from the hotel. The restaurant is called Setopa and it serves modern Korean food. This is a cuisine that is an almost complete blank for me.
(2 grilled shrimp with a delicious sauce, a bowlful of vegetables that are just out of this world, rice with a crunchy topping and kimchi)
And yes, it is quite excellent. I'll go so far as to say it was the best Korean food I ever had, but of course, I've had very little Korean food in my life so don't go by that alone. Trust me though: if you're in Paris, you'd do well to consider eating here, even if you think that when in France, you should eat French foods. This place is memorable! [Make a reservation. Setopa is very popular with a younger crowd, looking very much like they're from the universities around here. I am sure I was the oldest in the room. The smiling dotty grandma, out partying for the night!]
with so much love...
