Paris Journal 2015 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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The weather is beautiful this morning in Paris, but this afternoon, the temperatures are predicted to rise to 96F. In a city with little to no air conditioning, that’s hot. Even places that advertise “climatisée” (air conditioned) aren’t very cool – not by Florida a.c. standards. Having survived the deadly heat wave of 2003, we know a few tricks about how to stay cool in a hot city with no a.c. Trap the air First, if the temps are cool enough in the morning, open all the windows, and then close them all at 10AM to trap the cool air. Keep them closed until 2AM the next morning, or whenever the temperature is supposed to drop back into the mid-70sF. Keeping the apartment closed not only traps the cooler air inside, but also keeps the bad ozone outside. In big cities, bad ozone builds up as the temperature rises. Pollution killed many of the victims of the 2003 heat wave, not the heat. Those with respiratory and heart problems are especially vulnerable to bad ozone. As the day heats up, stay cool Wear a damp t-shirt around the apartment. Wash sheets in cool water, spin them in the washer until they’re just damp, then hang them to dry in the apartment, with the fans blowing on them. Soak your feet in a basin of cool water. Drink plenty of water, but do not drink too much alcohol. Shop at the nearest grocery store. Groceries are actually really air conditioned. Movie theaters? Not so much. Reserve a table at a truly air conditioned restaurant. This requires advance research. *** And so I moved our reservation at Alchimie (not air conditioned) to Saturday, when the temperatures are predicted to be lower. For tonight, I reserved a table at Vin & Marée, a truly air-conditioned, well-capitalized restaurant that is part of a small chain (three or four restaurants in this city). It is a fine seafood restaurant, and it serves an awesome Baba au Rhum. Yesterday was hot enough, and there was a moderate amount of bad ozone in the air. We had an errand to run over at the American University of Paris. We took our time, and the long walk wasn’t too bad. On the way home, we decided to stroll through the market under the tracks at the boulevard de Grenelle. Tom hadn’t seen it yet this summer, and because of the errand, we had the shopping trolley with us, so why not? While I was waiting to pay for a sizeable head of romaine lettuce (one euro), the veggie vendor noticed a tow truck preparing to tow a car parked nearby, on the inner edge of the boulevard. “That’s only been there ten minutes!” he shouted at the tow truck worker. I think the car belonged to a customer he knew. The tow truck worker continued to put a roller contraption under the car’s back wheels, using a jack. This was so he could turn the car around and attach it to the tow truck. The vendor, not a man to be ignored, left his station, went up the car, kicked the jack away, and lifted and shoved the car just enough to get it off the roller contraption. My eyes went wide. My jaw dropped. The woman in line in front of me turned to me and explained, in French, that the car was being stolen. I expressed my horror, and then the two men behind me in line questioned her assertion. She said that the tow truck contractor cruised the boulevard on market day, looking for older, slightly beat up cars that were illegally parked. These cars in particular would be towed because the owners likely could not afford the steep fines for retrieving them. Then the tow truck operators could keep the cars, and sell the parts. The scam doesn’t work with nicer cars, because those owners pay the price to retrieve their vehicles. If this is true, it is awful and unfair. Stealing from the poor. How low can these jerks go? Please, somebody tell me this story isn’t true. I don’t want to believe it. Anyway, the car was towed, because the tall, strong, good and handsome vendor couldn’t keep up the civil disobedience thing and still tend to his business. We walked on up to a poultry vendor, bought a roasted chicken, and then began the trek home in the heat. Tom stopped in at Monoprix and bought the leather jacket he’s had his eye on. It had been 50 percent off, and now it was 60 percent off. He looks so great in that jacket! I couldn’t take the trolley into Monoprix, so I walked on to the wine store to buy a few bottles. The manager was happy to see me, and asked about our “vacation.” He carried my purchase across the store and carefully placed the bag in my shopping trolley. How nice! After watching the mountainous stage of the Tour de France on channel 2, we dressed for dinner and walked down the avenue Felix Faure to one of our longtime favorite places, which shall go unnamed. We were recognized instantly and were warmly greeted. The dining room looked better than ever. But the menu has been greatly shortened, and the dish I’d been anticipating was not on it. And then we found out: this resto’s food is not good anymore. Such a disappointment! The place has been run by a husband and wife team since it opened several years ago. She runs the dining room, and he, the chef, is shy, and he stays back in the kitchen. But someone else was in that kitchen, I swear. Either that or the chef has burned out. It happens. Tom saw the chef appear briefly after our still-half-full plates went back to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure if it was the chef we knew or someone else. The chef must have been concerned to see that we had eaten so little. Well, at least he was perhaps concerned. We paid our tab, said our thank you’s and goodbyes to the server, and we were on our way. I was thankful that the patronne was busy taking a large order at an outside table at that moment. I was embarrassed for her. She’s doing her job so very well, and yet that kitchen is now a minefield of mediocrity or worse. Oh well. In that heat, we didn’t have the greatest of appetites anyway. Walking up the tree-lined avenue was pleasant after dinner. The temperature had dropped somewhat, and a light breeze wafted amongst the leafy branches. Back at the apartment, we listened to the tunes of Chet Baker and B.B. King, and all was well again. |
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Illegal
vendors of Eiffel Tower trinkets spread their wares out on the Passerelle de
Billy.
Construction
fencing covers decorated with cartoons, on the Berges de Seine.
Geraniums
near the Champ de Mars. |
