reimagining Paris

Guests have come to Madison and I have thought hard how best to present my hometown. What are must-sees? What am I trying to say about this place in south central Wisconsin? This year, too, I had a meetup with friends in New York and I worried about what I should show off in what was once my city. And in Warsaw, I frequently hosted friends from the US, though there it was easy -- there's a certain tourist route that everyone would regard as essential for visitors. Add the Palace of Culture ad the great parks and you're set.

Then there is Paris. I've been here with many friends over the years and we've done many agreeable things here. Importantly, I have even taken paid groups of Americans to Paris, twice in fact, and I walked with them, pointing out this, pointing out that. So I'm well trained in this sort of stuff, right? You'd think.

Last night, my two Polish friends asked if today I would take them to the little favorite and fascinating parts of this city. Show us what you love about this place!

I almost didn't sleep half the night worrying about this! Their request was so simple, yet so profoundly difficult. Because at the end of the day, I will have shown a part of myself and I will have revealed my own personal statement about love, about life, about everything!

Now, these are very good friends and we have know each other for many decades and nothing will change between us if they dont fall in love with what I view as fascinating and enormously gratifying. I mean, Snowdrop disliked buckwheat crepes at the Breizh Cafe, and I forgive her for that, and she doesn't associate the yucky crepes with nice gaga. But this is different, because I know there is a very special, secretly so, Paris out there. If I can't put together a day that reveals it, then it's my fault. And so I take the charge seriously and I think and I reject this idea and I add this to my list of stops and before I know it, it's morning.

I come down to my hotel breakfast. The classic.one for me. Cannot be more Parisian, though of course what's missing is the crowds of Parisians going by. I promise myself that I will skip the free meal on one morning and go out to seek my breakfast by a window, looking out at Paris waking up. 

My friends are staying at a hotel just three minutes from me (my hotel was full by the time they decided to come here) and this is both perfect and daunting. I meet them there and we step out into the city as if it were me, except with their tastes and their habits and their style of doing things.

My rough plan is to first walk through the Jardins Luxembourg. They have had two days of Paris without me and they visited museums and saw some terribly chaotic stuff on the Right Bank and I told them that we will concentrate on the Left Bank, because this is where I spend a great chunk of my time. Sometimes I dont even make it to the Right Bank, though I try to keep an open mind and lately I've enjoyed strolls through the parks there. And just for those of you who know Paris and will say to me that actually, the Right Bank, the Canal side blocks and those north of the Marais are where the action is right now, culinary and otherwise -- yes, I know this to be true, but that neighborhood is so remote from the rest of Paris that I hardly ever go there and can't imagine basing myself there on short visits to the city. 

We set out. To the Gardens.

(waiting to cross the street: can you tell that these people are Parisians?)

The Luxembourg Gardens are not a monolith. The heart of the park -- the vast open space where you will find the great pond and fountain that are at the foot of the Luxembourg Palace (now the Senate) -- this is where everyone gathers, Parisians and tourists alike. It's the greatest mingling point of the city I think. There's a live and let live vibe here that I adore. Kids chase boats, groups munch on sandwiches and sip wine (illegal but you'd have to make a fool of yourself before anyone will enforce it), lovers kiss openly and with a lot of caressing in between, others sit in the chairs, feet up, and read a book. In public. Because reading a book in public is so much more congenial than doing the same at home. So, there's this Jardins de Luxembourg.

But there's another -- the hidden, quiet side to the park. Walk to the southeast edges and everything changes. This is where high school kids come for lunch break. It's no longer a Mecca of any sort, it's private. And it's lovely.

So we start here and then we leave the park...

(at the high school end: an entirely different set of park strollers here...)

And walk a short block to a toy store, because it's close by and I bought two toys for grandkids in Toulouse and I cannot come back without a third of the same sort (they only had two in Toulouse) and heck, if I'm showing them my Paris, then this certainly qualifies.  The Paris where I think about grandkids.

(I had to pause at a cafe for their toilette; in exiting, I came across these two parents sitting outside with their two young boys. What struck me was how intimate they were in their love for their boys, but especially in their love for each other...)

From here we walk the long blocks  of Boulevard Raspail, eventually reaching the Lutetia Hotel.  

It's the only large hotel on the Left Bank and it has a checkered history and just looking at it makes me feel weird even though it's recently restored and looks beautiful. Once, when I visited the University of Paris (for work reasons), my colleagues took me here for oysters and wine and I always associate it with people eating the best, the most expensive oysters in town. Maybe with champagne, because it's that kind of a place. Unique on the Left Bank.

Then we walk through the Bon Marche department store. Talk about tony!

There was a time when I could actually afford an item or two here, but that ship has sailed and not because I am retired and living on a government retiree's pension. It just has grown to be so expensive that even the most favorable rates of exchange, where it takes less than a dollar to buy a Euro doesn't help. 

Cross the street and you are in the Bon Marche food halls. I already found the coveted chocolate covered marshmallow teddy bears that the kids love -- right in the tea shop next to my hotel!  But I always look to see what else is new here. And admiring their pastries is de rigeur!

And then we walk the rue du Bac. Every Parisian knows rue du Bac. It's the Left Bank version of rue Saint Honore only not that obnoxiously posh. So, you dont have to be a millionaire to shop here and you can occasionally find something that is within your budget, but overall, it's curated to those who think constantly about design and style and aren't afraid to spend money on it. For us, what counts is that they have a very good ice cream store. Gosia is an ice cream aficionado. I have a scoop of salted caramel. Mmmm....

My favorite cafe in all of Paris is here (Cafe Varenne), but I hesitate about stopping for lunch. It's a commitment in terms of food (the portions are big) and price (they reflect the size of the meal). Better to find something calm and simple. Maybe a lunch at the Cafe de Marche on rue Cler? Wouldn't you think?

Okay. We walk in that direction. Passing this classic view! Gosia really would love to get close to the Eiffel Tower. Easy peasy. We are on our way there!

First though, rue Cler market:

And lunch.

(I'm eating the very common lunch salad of warm chèvre toasts on lettuce, with any number of additions -- in this case figs and apricots.)

Okay, the Tower. Finally. 

There is absolutely no way to photograph this monument to Frenchness with any degree of originality so I wont post more of my attempts here. Just this one (above) taken actually by Piotr. And as an added bonus, I'll include a pic of a group of amazed kids, listening to a guy make music on old tin lids and other discarded pieces of metal. 

At this point, things get a little confusing. I didn't really know what my friends would want after reaching our endpoint (the Tower). They tell me they're game to hit the Right Bank (just a little), so long as they could get there by bus. I'm not crazy about getting on super crowded buses (Covid!) and besides, I love the walk along the river, so they ride and I walk and we agree to meet up at the Tuilerie Gardens. On the Right Bank. By the merry-go-round.

(Along the way I pass this boy, playing, as my grandkids would play, imaginative games with very tiny souvenir Eiffel Towers.)

(I reach the merry-go-round - a place where the grandkids repeatedly came to, until Covid struck and kept them home)

We side step for a cup of coffee...

It is now almost evening. We split up, because they have some small shopping to do and I want to stroll in a different direction. They will let me know if they want to join me for dinner.

But of course, this is Paris. By the time they text me a "yes" to dinner, my chosen restaurant for the evening (Georgette) is booked solid and so I head out to dinner on my own.

And I have to say, my dinner turns out to be a real winner. The place is just eleven minutes from my hotel, so within my boundaries of where I'm willing to go after a full day. And the food is super good. I have a Gravlax a l'Ukrainienne for an appetizer. I ask what's so "Ukrainienne" about it and I have to admit, the waitperson stumbles on this one. I'm guessing it's more a solidarity statement. For the main course, I am easily drawn to the mushroom risotto. I have seen fabulous mushrooms -- cepes, trumpets, oysters, chanterelles, girolles -- in all the markets here. I am thrilled that I can have them now for supper.

I proposed we meet up for a drink after dinner and mindful of the fact that yesterday's late night drink was not necessarily creative, I found a place that takes the task of mixology to heart. It's called Tiger (on rue Princesse and I swear, every other person there was less than half our age, but the drinks were fabulous). I have a Negroni and then I leave them to continue on their own. 

(And how's the eye, you ask? Well, this pic, taken two minutes ago says it all: classic black eye! With a smile.)

Alright! For me, it was in fact a beautiful, sunny, warm and wonderful day. I hope it was for Piotr and Gosia too. Well, sure, and all of you, wherever you may live.

with love...

to Paris

The Hotel Soclo, among its many virtues, is small. Only four rooms to a floor -- each one occupying its own corner, so there is little likelihood of ever hearing your neighbor. I don't know that I even have neighbors. The whole place is very quiet. Rest is possible.

Since one purpose of this trip is to take things slowly, I have scheduled no early morning activities or travels. I'm to leave on a train for Paris, but it doesn't depart until 10:38. The hotel people tell me I should book a taxi for 9:50. Nice and late in the morning!

I get up and glance out the window to greet the day. Dark. This next photo was taken just before I go down to breakfast. Europe changes its clocks this coming weekend. Toulouse may be south by French standards, but it's still quite north, by American standards. Right now the sun rises at 8:22. Paris will be even later (8:28), so dark mornings are the norm here in late October.

... then I check that eye. Hmmm... Do you suppose I could get away with simply being one who favors purple eye shadow, for a youthful goth look?

I decide to leave it alone for now, but I pack my nifty (and probably useless) powder into my backpack for further consideration. [And of course, the first thing that my adorable cab drive asks me is -- what happened to your eye?? Did you fall? I guess my gray hairs imply that I may suffer from balance issues. In fact, I have zero problem with balance. Just with paying attention to where I'm heading. Haha!]

Breakfast at the hotel. I may as well fill up, I wont be picking up lunch today.

It's hard to decide on which cake would be best. I realize that the variety they offer is not necessarily a good thing. I stare at their display, only part of which is visible here, cut myself a piece of one, and another...

... and then feel certain that I made the wrong choices. The lesson? Next time just stick with the baguettes. I love them here and you cannot find anything comparable back in Madison.

After a very leisurely meal, I still have enough time for a short walk. 

There's a high school across the street and as I watch students filing into the school yard, I can only think -- they probably never once had to practice for active shooter events. Lucky them. Shame on us. Really, shame on all who refuse to place limits on gun ownership in America. Sigh... Lucky them. Scarred and scared us.

With only some twenty minutes left, I turn toward the river. So many great ways to enjoy its beauty! Oh, I know this bridge well!

(Riverside bike ride)

(Takes talent to ride in the city, while talking on the phone, with hands off the handlebars...)

There is a canal here, and I take a few minutes to follow its path. It's not du Midi, it's de Brienne. It''s a bit more narrow than du Midi, but the images are still similar...

(you can tell I'm in the south...)

Okay, I'm in the cab now, chatting to the driver about her large family from Algiers, about her husband from Morocco, about food. Honestly, for Toulusians, the buck seems to stop right there at the table. ("Did you try the cassoulet? But with a sausage! No? You didn't go to Castelnaudary -- where they say cassoulet came from?" Shock and disbelief.) 

I arrive at the station in plenty of time, but this is not a bad thing, because the TGV (Train a Grande Vitesse)  for Paris originates in Toulouse, so it is there and waiting for us to board at our leisure.

(man with scarf has long replaced the man with beret in France as a fashion statement)

I haven't taken a French TGV since the pandemic and I am surprised to see that they have become even more comfortable. My seat now has several charging portals and the WiFi is solid. The views out the window haven't changed though! Lovely as ever.

(another canal!)

[The trip is actually a bit of a surprise to me. It takes two hours to reach our first and only stop -- Bordeaux, which of course is on the Atlantic coast. So we veer west, before then shooting north to Paris. From Bordeaux to Paris the ride is less than two and a half hours. I mean, why would you ever fly locally when the trains are so excellent!]

(vineyards, because, well, we're approaching Bordeaux)

And now Paris. 

I'm to spend four nights here before returning home on Saturday (just as Ed takes off for his sailing trip; we will have missed each other by several hours). My plan was to actually make no plans at all (remember -- I am on a de-scheduling kick on this trip!), but a few weeks ago, two of my Polish friends, Piotr and his wife Gosia, told me this was a great chance for them to also visit Paris, especially since one of them has never been there and, well, you know, we're getting old(er). And so we will be coordinating our days with I expect some overlap.

My first task though is to get myself from the train station (Gare Montparnasse) to my hotel without bumping into any metal poles! Normally, this is a 27 minute walk, but I have a pack and a post-shopping-full suitcase. (I would have taken a cab or an Uber, but I like the walk and I have learned the hard way that walking from the station in the direction of the hotel is a downhill event, so I'm game!)

(leaving Montparnasse behind me)

I pause along the way: to pick up a cool pair of reading glasses, then at a cafe for a quick coffee at an outside table. The coffee is terrible, reminding me that for all the attention they pay to food, Parisians are perfectly capable of downing horrible espressos. 

And then I continue, right past hugely exquisite little grocery stores (I always notice the fruits and mushrooms that I cannot easily have back home) ...

... past familiar blocks sloping down from the park...

... one such street running down just exactly to my hotel.

My hotel. Le Baume. How I love this little place! I'm not sure how much they love me back at the moment, since this is my third visit in the last two years and all have been without charge. I'm still working off of a cancelled family trip that had been timed for May, 2020. How well you and I remember all that got cancelled in May, 2020! I promised them that I would try to use up all my credits this year.

As always, I feel at home here. Typically I get the same room, but this time I was late to the game so I have, instead, one that faces the street, yes, that...

... but also has a window out to the courtyard. There is a lovely balcony here, but in Paris, this is no bonus at all for me because I will always prefer going to a cafe and watching a Parisian street scene than sitting on the balcony of my hotel room during the day.

(I picked up flowers for the room because, well, I love flowers.)

I unpack and go right out again. To the park. Because to me, this is the best meditative retreat. The serenity you look for in your everyday? I surely have it at the farmette, but there, I also see the work tasks that await me. At the Luxembourg Gardens, I face none of that. Only the beauty of this vast public space.

(heaven for someone who loves flowers!)

(girls, engaged in serious conversation)

(girls, engaged in serious conversation)

And toward evening I meet up with the traveling duo (they arrived yesterday) and we catch up over supper at Cafe Breizh. Eating here always reminds me of eating in Brittany. I would readily return to those coastal villages, but they really do require a car. It's too hard to move around otherwise. So I put it off and choose, instead, to indulge in a meal of Brittany's favorite savory crepes at the Breizh, which happily is only two minutes from my beloved hotel. No car required!

We start with shrimp: you have to peel your own!

Next come the buckwheat crepes -- mine is with an egg, veggies and cheese.

And yes, we do finish with dessert crepes. And ice cream.

It is, of course, wonderful to see these guys again and we aren't going to be satisfied with a conversation over dinner, so we head out once more, this time in search of a place where we can linger over a drink. There are so many to choose from!

 

In the end we go to the rue de Bucci, where we sit down at a cafe outside, among the thousands eating and drinking there late into the night, and we make inroads into our own carafe of wine (or, is that a Cosmo I see in Gosia's hand?) and it is all supremely wonderful.

And that is my day! Beautiful on both ends and calm and pleasant in the middle. How good is that!!