Paris Journal 2014 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
Find me on Facebook 2013
Paris Journal ← Previous Next
→ << Back to the beginning
|
A warm, sunny
Saturday in September is not so common in Paris. People by the thousands took advantage of
the rare occasion; they went to the park.
In our neighborhood, that’s the Luxembourg Gardens. People were everywhere; nearly every metal
chair was occupied. We kept
walking, through the Gardens and the little parks to the south, and when we
were near the boulevard Montparnasse, I said, “Let’s go to the Montparnasse
cemetery!” The other night
at dinner, Neal had said, “Quite frankly, I don’t understand the attraction
of cemeteries.” Sherry had brought up
the subject, asking us if we thought it was worth their time to visit the
Pere Lachaise cemetery. We said yes,
it is a big and beautiful cemetery.
She said, “Isn’t that where some important rock star is buried?” I said yes,
that’s Jim Morrison (of The Doors).
But many
famous people are buried in the Montparnasse Cemetery as well. I said that the cemeteries are wonderful
arboretums, and they’re quiet and peaceful – more so than the parks like the
Luxembourg Gardens. Some of the
monuments are works of art. The
Montparnasse Cemetery, in particular, is a pleasant place for strolling
around. We’d made one wandering
circuit through the main part of the cemetery and then paused to look at the
sign listing those interred in the place.
The listing reminded Tom that Samuel Beckett is buried there, and he
really wanted to see that spot. We
examined the map on the sign, figured out which way to go, and back we went,
into the heart of the graveyard. The remains of Beckett
and his wife occupy a simple granite tomb in a prime spot. They both died in the same year, which made
me curious. Later Tom looked it up;
their deaths were not related – that is, they didn’t die together in an accident. Curious about
Beckett’s bilingualism, I asked Tom if he wrote “Waiting for Godot” in French or English. Tom answered that he wasn’t sure about that
particular play, but that Beckett often wrote in French. [Beckett did write “Waiting
for Godot” in French.] Then I wondered if he did his own English
translations. Turns out that he did. What a special
gift – to be able to write so well in two languages!
We strolled
back to the apartment the way we’d come, going through the parks. Our plan was to go out to dinner and then
hear live jazz. But after dinner, we
were simply too tired for more. Dinner was very
good. Coté Bergamote serves a delicious, authentic foie gras (below), magret de
canard, and chocolate torte at reasonable prices. Service is friendly, attentive, and
unpretentious. We were surprised at
how many people must have arrived even before 7PM to dine. Maybe that’s because it was Saturday night,
and other things were planned for after dinner.
Today was our “extra”
day in Paris, thanks to the Air France pilots’ union strike. There were no ominous early morning emails
from the airline, but I did get one in mid-morning. Our flight on
Monday is also cancelled. I won’t know
until Monday whether or not our re-booked flight on Tuesday will go. Being in Paris isn’t so bad, but the
uncertainty is not good. And as of
Wednesday morning, we don’t have a place to stay.
|
Sunday, September 28, 2014
One of the loveliest monuments in the Montparnasse
Cemetery.
Bronze sculpture (1889) by Horace Daillion, in the central
roundabout of the Montparnasse Cemetery.
Duck breast slices in a honey-rhubarb sauce, with homemade
purréed potatoes and a lively green salad.
Just before reaching the cemetery, we passed by this fascinating
sculpture (1958) by Ossip Zadkine. |
