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The
Passage du Grand Cerf, near the rue Montorgueil.
Crab
in one of the shopping galleries near rue Montorgueil.
Cute
stone turtles Crab in one of the shopping galleries
Tom
walking under a bridge on one of our |
Thursday, September 6 Yesterday was a bit of an odd day. I went out in the morning to buy the
newspapers and was immediately greeted by a strange combination of music
coming from the magnificent organ of Saint Sulpice, and what sounded to me
like a Mexican band (it was really Basque) coming from somewhere in the Saint
Sulpice square. Fortunately, the
Basque music stopped and the organ music did not, so I went into the church
and listened to a long, powerful, somewhat contemporary piece. It was thrilling. When it was over, I went on with the errands – buying
newspapers, gin and tonic for our friends Linda and John, and various other
little items of groceries. On my way
from here to there, I encountered loud people dressed in funny costumes. There was an echoing, booming voice coming
from loudspeakers in the square – impossible to decipher what the voice was
saying. There was a big tent set up in
the square, which was all fenced off and open only to certain people in funny
costumes. For example, some were
dressed like tomatoes, and even had their faces painted red. Others were in some odd Basque-like costume
involving funny black hats, white shirts with tails out, black jackets, and
red scarves. The newspaper explained what was going on: This was the annual elbow-lifters’
marathon, conceived by the rugby reporter for Le Parisien, to prolong the Basque festival and to introduce the
rugby world cup event coming up this weekend.
In this marathon, instead of running for 42 kilometers, the racers
stop at each of 42 neighborhood bars. In
each bar, each racer consumes 3 cl of I did not participate, but I was amused. I came home and made the most perfect
omelette ever – so Tom says, anyway –
for our lunch. I couldn’t believe how
well it turned out. I was following
advice from Julia Child’s books, I’m becoming accustomed to the pans and
burners on the cooktop in this apartment, and I was using top-notch eggs from
the Marché St. Germain. In the evening Linda and John came over and we had
drinks while they told us about their adventures over the past week. Linda also asked Tom a lot of questions
about his work, and she told us about some of the things she is doing with
both the library board and BIG Arts on Sanibel. Before we knew it, it was time to walk to
dinner at L’Espadon Bleu.
As usual, the food there was very, very good. Tom and John had steak (men!), and Linda
had the pork cheeks -- a good
choice. I had the special of the day,
a very fresh cod prepared in layers with spinach in a good white sauce. We all had an apple crumble with chocolate
bits for dessert. This is a good resto
that doesn’t crowd you in like sardines. Today when I went out for the papers it was a bit saner
in the neighborhood. I decided to walk
a ways to the east on boulevard Saint Germain to see where my fellow Zontian
Janice and her friends will be staying starting tomorrow. I scoped out a bistrot where we might meet
for a drink, near their hotel. Then I
meandered back, stopping to buy a lovely, big silk and cashmere scarf at the
market at Place Maubert (only 5 euros!), and a used but big French-English
dictionary for Tom at the Abbey Bookshop.
Brian, the proprietor of the bookshop, misses When I came home, I chopped and chopped and cooked and
cooked until I had a pretty decent Beef Bourguignon sauce which we’ll have
for dinner tonight. Yesterday was my dad’s 84th birthday. I called him on Skype. Both he and mom are doing great. I’m so lucky. Dad has a new laptop computer for his
birthday. That should keep him busy
and out of trouble. Today, they’re
going out to Sanibel to check on things for us and to have fun, too, I hope. As I wander around I’m also stopped by people soliciting funds for
non-profits, in particular, Doctors without Borders. For some reason, however, they are only allowed
to solicit from people who are residents of I don’t think this has anything to do with my physical
appearance. It has to do with the way
I walk down the street, no camera or backpack or big bag, no look of being
slightly lost. I walk like I know my
way around, and therefore, I must be Parisienne, or so they think. |
