Paris Journal 2013 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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We’ve started a new routine for us this first week of summertime in Paris this year. We’re taking a real vacation this week. Instead of working until 3PM or so, and THEN going out (or in the case of July, watching the Tour de France on TV from 3 to 5, and THEN going out to walk), we go out walking twice a day – once in the morning through mid-afternoon, and then again after watching the Tour de France after 5PM. So we’ve been having our main meal of the day at mid-day instead of in the evening. In the evening, I’ve simply been eating salad. But this is no ordinary salad, for me. In Paris, I have no trouble finding mache (lamb’s lettuce). In Florida, I can almost never find it. It doesn’t have a long enough produce-shelf life for American groceries, I guess. A bowl full of washed mache, a few little cubes of Compte Extra (French type of Swiss cheese without holes), a few little pieces of Paris ham, some olive oil, salt, freshly ground pepper, and a dash of balsamic vinegar, toss, and eat. It is a perfect supper for me. And a big bunch of delicate, delicious mache at the Carrefour supermarket is only 99 centimes! Tom’s not eating raw foods, per his doctor’s instructions, so for supper he has something like Paris ham and French cheese of some sort on a horizontally sliced section of fresh baguette, straight from the excellent bakery at the end of the block. I’ve been hunting for some Romanescu to buy, take home, and eat, but haven’t found it yet. I will, however, before this summer is through. I love the fractal wonders and nutty taste of Romanescu! So, yes, the main meal is lunch now. We’re having a real vacation for the first time in years, I guess! In the morning yesterday, Tom wanted to see the Roman arena called the Arènes de Lutece. There is only one arena, and I’m not sure why it is called “arenas” plural, but there must be some explanation. Lutece, as many of you know, is the old Roman name for Paris. The arena is a short walk up the rue de Navarre from the apartment. But first we walked over to check out the open air market at the Place Monge, which is only a block away. I found a couple scarves there that I’d like to buy, but I want to be sure of the color first. So I plan to go back there on Sunday, wearing the blouse with which I want to coordinate. The market at Monge had far more apparel and accessory items than I expected. So it goes a bit later into the afternoon than some of the markets, like the one at Grenelle. And the Monge market is three days a week, not just two. That’s nice. We can’t quite bring ourselves to buy prepared food, meats, poultry, and raw cheeses that have been sitting out in the open in a very public place all morning. So we generally do not buy our food in these markets. I am sure Tom’s doctor would approve of that abstention. From the market we went back across rue Lacépède to the rue de Navarre, and climbed up the hill to the top of the arena, which probably originally had space for about 17,000 spectators. So this University of Paris neighborhood has no 98,000-seat football arena, but it does have an ancient Roman arena. Not bad! We sat in the top “tier,” where the women and slaves would sit in Roman times, and instead of watching gladiators fight, we watched children at play. That is much more interesting if your own children or grandchildren are playing there. So after only about ten minutes, we moved on, exploring a bit more around the edges of the arena’s park-like setting, and then proceeded back over to the rue de Linné. We ambled slowly down the street and decided to dine at Les Trois Carafes again. There, we discovered their lunchtime special. Two courses and a glass of wine for only 19 euros! I ordered a starter and main course – the fresh, marinated sardines again, and a chicken fricassée that was very Provençale. Tom had two round zucchini’s, one green and one yellow, that had been hollowed out and baked, stuffed with a delicious, savory beef mixture. Then he had a tarte tatin (old-fashioned single-crust apple pie). Everything was delicious, and the service was very pleasant. Already, the staff remembers us. There is no attempt to operate in English at Les Trois Carafes. They wisely know that in this part of Paris, while there may be many English speakers, they are not so much tourists as they are scientists or graduate students. Of course, if you are working or studying in Paris, you need to speak French. By the time we finished this leisurely lunch, it was time to walk again. So we entered the Jardin des Plantes at our favorite entrance, across the street from Les Trois Carafes, and made our way to the current photographic exhibit on the fences, “Planète Grenouille,” or “Frog Planet.” Photographer Cyril Ruoso travelled all over the Earth to take these images of toads, frogs, and salamanders. The fascinating images will remain there on the fences until the first of December. We strolled back down through the botany school’s garden, and turned right at the first greenhouse to head for the Jardin’s exit. It was time to watch the Tour de France. Without Lance Armstrong, we are much more relaxed while watching the Tour. So much so, that part of the hour or so of watching the Tour turns into nap time. Then we’re up and about again, ready for another walk. Yesterday evening, our destination was the Seine, and the Isle Saint Louis, in that most ancient part of Paris. We enjoyed the scene on the rue Saint-Louis en l’Île. It is quite touristy, but we saw residents of the Île as well. They were out for their evening promenade and errands, comme il faut. The shops are a bit too touristy, but they’re interesting, and adorable little restaurants are in the mix. The ancient architecture is the essential framework for the mix. History is in the mix, in large quantity. It’s all in the mix. Paris. |
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Jardin des Plantes.
The
greenhouses at the Jardin des Plantes
gave our imaginations a workout.
Platycerium wandae, the largest type of staghorn fern, from New Guinea: an epiphyte so big it
needs extra support to hang on.
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