Paris Journal 2008
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When I first saw him yesterday I knew this was going to be a good experience. I’m talking about our taxi driver who took us from the airport to the apartment yesterday. Our arrival at the airport had gone smoothly. The flight was early, the new terminal was beautiful and uncrowded, the useless landing card form had been eliminated, there was no staff whatsoever in customs, save for the woman mopping the floor, the two suitcases arrived on the baggage carrousel (although one had been smooshed by something heavy), and the new taxi stand was now completed so we didn’t have to walk too far after passing through the empty customs area. The wait in the taxi queue was brief. When our turn came, a taxi glided up, and I said bonjour to the gentleman driver. He pulled into the designated loading spot, we loaded our bags, and used my best French to greet him and ask him please to take us to 115 rue du Theatre, and he said, simultaneously with me, “dans le quinzieme.” He even knew, without looking at a map, that the street was one way, starting at the rue de la Croix Nivert. This man knows Paris! I was confident that he’d deliver us efficiently. In the taxi, I was remarking to Tom how nice the arrival had been, and how much I like the new terminal. After a short while, the driver began speaking to us in English. We had a great conversation, in English and French, about Paris and its architecture, politics, immigration, cooking, and more. I asked him if he was from Paris. Yes, he said. He lives still in the house he was born in (on the dining room table!) in the southern part of the city. His name is Jean-Pierre Fraisse, telephone 06-60-33-82-17 (www.chez.com/taxilefevre). His family roots are in the Auvergne, but like I said, he is Parisian, and he knows the city inside out. He loves to talk about it, too. So if you ever want to hire a taxi driver to show you around the city, he would be a great one to choose. Jean-Pierre drove us into the city along the route that I
prefer, which is a route that no taxi driver has driven for us for
years. It was lovely – we entered the
city in the 16th arrondissement, drove down through its ritziness
to the Trocadero, went around the park-like area on the side of the Trocadero
to the bridge by the Eiffel Tower. We
crossed the Seine in magnificent sunlight with a glorious view. There we skirted around the Champ de Mars
along the shady and inviting Avenue de Suffren, then the rue de Laos, across
the Place Cambronne to the rue de la Croix Nivert and home to the rue du
Theatre. Although the traffic was very
slow coming into the city, the time flew by as we talked. Jean-Pierre agreed with us about the
ugliness of the very tall buildings in the city. He sided with me about “Beaubourg,” the
Georges Pompidou museum. Jean-Pierre
and I hate it; Tom likes it.
Jean-Pierre described the law in Paris that dictates no more than
seven levels. However, he said, there
are unfortunate exceptions to every rule. We talked about the illegal
immigrants in France, compared to the ones in the US. Jean-Pierre resents the illegals who want
to come to France to go on the dole, not to work. We talked about all the illegal immigrants
from Mexico, Guatemala and El Salvador who come to Florida and work harder
than anyone, at very tough jobs. When
the jobs disappear, they go back home for a while. They do not go on the dole, as a general
rule. Jean-Pierre worked for many
years as a mechanic. He learned his
English in school, and then when he was a mechanic, he explained, he could
not practice his English by speaking to the cars. So he would listen to American music,
puzzling out the lyrics until he understood them. After retiring from that work, he became a
taxi driver. He says he uses his
English all the time now to speak with customers, and he is proud of it. He says that today, you can’t get anywhere
if you don’t speak English. We switched to politics, and of
course Jean-Pierre is an Obama person like us. He had a copy of yesterday’s Le Figaro on the seat next to
him. There was a cover story about
McCain and Obama courting the Hispanic vote, concluding that Obama is far
ahead in that sector. Jean-Pierre is
amazingly well informed about the US.
He knows its geography well. He
even took his vacation there, in the West (Grand Canyon, etc.) a few years
ago. I think he may even know the
difference between Ohio and Iowa. Somehow we switched over to
talking about cooking. Jean-Pierre
explained that he does the cooking in his house. One of his brothers is a charcutiere,
another is a baker. One of his aunts,
who is a countess, is a great cook.
When we spoke of the rue du Commerce in the 15th
arrondissement, he remarked about all the nice boutiques there, in particular
the ones that dealt in “nourriture.”
This would be the specialty shops that sell olive oil, wine, cheese,
charcuterie, chocolate, etc. At the end of the day, we walked
around the Champ de Mars and finished our walk with a tasty dinner at La
Gauloise. All the smokers now sit
outside, and all of us nonsmokers sit inside.
The law banishing smoking went into effect at the beginning of the
year. Feeling fortified, we braved
Monoprix to pick up some essentials like eggs for breakfast. The crowd in that store just before closing
time (10PM) is amazing. But we did it,
and had a nice fluffy omelette for breakfast today as our reward. The first set of friends passing
through Paris joins us tonight for drinks at 6:30, then we’re taking them to
Le Blavet. Should be fun! |
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Dog
at rest in the Champ de Mars. Various
little dogs came up to visit this big, friendly shaggy thing.
Thistles
in the Champ de Mars.
Mural-sized
photo of the old days at the La Motte-Picquet metro station. Its recent installation on the outside of
the station is part of a major renovation.
You can see buildings at the current-day intersection of the Avenue de
la Motte-Picquet and the Boulevard de Grenelle reflected in the background. Note: For addresses & phone numbers of
restaurants in this journal, click
here. |
