Barbara Cooley's Paris Journal

Paris Journal 2011 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

Photos and thoughts about Paris

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We entered the shopping mall part of the Saint Germain market and music filled our ears. A horn was playing Antônio Carlos Jobim’s “Corcovado” (“Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars”).

We found the source: a man playing French horn! He was taking advantage of the good acoustics in the marble-lined halls of the shopping mall portion of the market.

We were his only audience. We listened with great pleasure to “Corcovado,” then he played “Autumn Leaves.” We applauded both times. He smiled in appreciation.

Tom gave him a euro or two while I asked him, in French, what the name for a French horn is in French. He said it is a cor d’harmonie. I remarked, in French, that it is unique for jazz. He smiled and agreed. One doesn’t often hear jazz played on a French horn.

Soon after we started this long Saturday walk, I realized that the batteries in my camera were dead. Cheap unbrand batteries from Dia, the discount grocery! I should have known better – I should have packed the next pair of cheap batteries as backup.

But we were too far along already to turn back to the apartment, so I decided to buy some batteries someplace along the way.

The beginning of our walk was through the very crowded, touristy part of the 6^th arrondissement, and over the river into the 1^st, where we attempted to walk through the cour carré of the Louvre again, but the entire courtyard had been overtaken by the erection of a temporary structure for some upcoming event.

Out and around the end of the Louvre we went, skirting the very old Oratoire du Louvre and making our way over to the rue Croix des Petits Champs to reach the Place des Victoires.

I’d carefully planned our route to the top of Montmartre so that we’d see as many old-fashioned shopping arcades as possible. The first two of these arcades were off of the Place des Victoires, and in some ways, these are the best in terms of restoration and upkeep. I’m sorry not to have photos of this for you.

These arcades, the Galerie Vivienne and the Galerie Colbert, are lovely, and not to be missed on a day that you plan to spend visiting places like the nearby Palais Royal.

Yet the best was yet to come.

As we were passing the Palais de la Bourse, I glanced off to my left and spotted a Monop on the rue de la Bourse. Perfect! No crowds, and decent prices for batteries, I enthused. I’m becoming a big Monop fan.

So when we reached the extensive shopping galleries between the rue St. Marc and the rue du Faubourg Montmartre, I snapped away like the Energizer bunny, with two new batteries in the camera and two Energizer AAs at the ready, as spares.

So many cities had nice shopping arcades like this by the end of the 19^th century and beginning of the 20^th, but most of them are gone forever. Paris has retained many of them. Parisians are so very wise, in so many ways.

The shops are charming, and I think there must be some kind of rent control because many of them cannot possibly make a lot of money because they are so specialized. The Passage Jouffroy was our favorite of the day, in part because of our discovery of the Hotel Chopin.

It is only a 2-star hotel because it has no elevator and no air conditioning. But it is situated uniquely in this shopping arcade, next to the Musée Grévin (wax museum). When the shops close at night, only the hotel guests can come inside this arcade. None of the rooms open onto a noisy street.

The hotel has only 36 rooms, and of course there is a piano in the lobby so somebody can play Chopin if the mood strikes. The best rooms are on the 3^rd floor, which is like the 4^th floor in American English – a fourth-floor walkup, not for the faint of heart.

The room prices are only 96 to 110 euros per night for double occupancy (78 to 86 for a single), and breakfast is only 7 euros.

Each room has its own bathroom, not to worry. But I’m sure the rooms are small, as is usually the case in reasonably priced hotels in Paris.

The reception was charming and warm. We had a fine chat with the woman at the desk, who warned us that when we decide to come, to reserve well in advance. The hotel books up, and I can see why.

Finally we left the last shopping arcade of the day, exiting on the rue du Faubourg Montmartre. Right away, we turned onto a pedestrianized shopping street, the rue Cadet, which was buzzing with activity on this beautiful weekend day.

As we neared the rue Turgot, I was unbelievably famished. I’d had no lunch, we had walked so far, and it was nearly 5PM. But I didn’t want to sit for a long time in a café; I feared that if I did, I wouldn’t want to go on up the hill afterwards.

So we popped into a bakery and took advantage of one of those quickie lunch packages they offer. This one was called the “formule quiche,” and it cost only 5 euros.

It consisted of a big slice of quiche loaded with chopped vegetables, a generous slice of raspberry-rhubarb crumble, and a bottle of mineral water. Tom bought a big, buttery almond pastry for himself.

We continued up to the square with park benches at the intersection of the rue Turgot and rue Rochehouart. We ate some of the treats, but not all. Fortified, we looked up the hill at the top of Sacre Cœur. Onward, we went.

At the top of the rue Turgot is the Square d’Anvers, where I knew there would be live music for the Fête des Jardins that is going on this weekend.

We sat on a bench with lots of moms and kids all around us, and listened to the Langue du Bois (tongue of wood) group perform French songs and poetry.

After a nice little rest, we headed into the touristy throng on the rue de Steinkerque. In addition to the mass of t-shirt and souvenir shops are fabric stores with big bolts of cloth set out on big tables. One store had piles of cheap women’s clothing on big tables on the sidewalk, and a crowd of frenzied women plowed through the piles, each reserving a heap for herself.

You won’t see this exciting activity on a Sunday; the stores are closed then. If you’re into this kind of thing, plan to be there on a Saturday. I kept my distance from those women; they scare me!

One errand I wanted to accomplish while we were in that neighborhood was to buy a zipper. The rue de Steinkerque and the streets to the east of it are full of wholesale and retail fabric stores. In their midst is a big mercerie, or shop with sewing notions, called Paritys.

I entered that busy store and navigated back to the wall with zippers easily. Once upon a time, I sewed my own clothes, so the homing instinct made the search a piece of cake for me. Zipper in hand, I took my place in line at the cash register.

My turn came. The zipper – one of those lovely “invisible” kinds that you can put into a seam – was only 2.60 euros.

Into the sack of wrapped treats from the bakery it went. Onward, we climbed up the steepest and last stretch of Montmartre.

Before we reached the top, we paused at the base of rue Maurice Utrillo to listen to a talented accordion player. He smiled when I took his picture, and he is much better than most accordion players assaulting the streets of Paris, so Tom gave him a euro.

In the crowds around Sacre Cœur, we stopped to listen briefly to a guy singing off-key and playing the guitar badly for the mob, who seemed to be unaware of his musical deficiencies.

We went on around the rue du Guibert, and were delighted to see a mime made up as a bronze fountain, pouring water slowly into a bronze hat, followed by a talented mime/clown on a pedestal.

On the rue Cortot, we spotted the Maison Rose, now a restaurant. Maurice Utrillo used to live there with his mother, Tom tells me. The mother was crazy, and she’d steal Utrillo’s paintings to sell them off so she could buy gin. What a shame.

Of course we went on to look at the vineyard and the Lapin Agile tavern. No visit of Montmartre is complete for us without a walk down the charming lane called Villa Leandre to see the townhouse labeled “No. 10 Downing Street.” After that, we made our way back to the Lamarck Caulaincourt metro station, bought tickets, and took the line 12 to Sevres-Babylone, not far from home.

We went immediately to the Italian cantina at the Saint Germain market and dined on the terrace there as the streets grew dark. The servers working at the cantina now are all authentically Italian, and they even speak some Italian to you as you order.

I had the pizza of the day because the server said it came with spicy sausage – a rare thing in France. Spicy it was – paper-thin slices of pepperoni that cleared up my sinuses nicely. Very spicy. Tom’s spaghetti with Bolognaise sauce was okay, but I think I’d recommend the tagliatelle pasta at this place rather than the thick spaghetti.

We were home by 9:30, more tired than you can imagine. I removed my new zipper from the sack, put the treats away, and sewed the zipper into the dress I bought from a bargain table last year.

Then I tried the dress on. It fits well – maybe too well. I think it is probably too sexy to wear without some kind of jacket.

Ah well. A nice problem to have, as they say.

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Note: For addresses & phone numbers of restaurants in this journal, click here.

Sunday, September 25, 2011