The Long March

Well. It's Sunday here, in the middle of a 4-day National Holiday weekend.

Tourists are everywhere and families are all out and about. It's a rather grey day, but, although cool, the weather is very comfortable for walking. So walk I did. I don't think I planned to do a mega-walk, but that is certainly how it ended up.


PLAN A

The original plan was to find some recipes online at my apartment, head over to the nearby Rue Montorgueil to hit the seafood, vegetable, and meat vendors to shop for ingredients, then pick up a couple of additional pieces of cookware, return to my apartment and practice some of the recipes from my classes. Simple enough, no? Apparently "no".

Yesterday all of those shops were wide open until late at night. Today? Toute fermé. De-nied!

So, next option...


PLAN B

Go get something to eat and head over to the big department store, Le Bon Marché. Simple enough. Or so I thought. Below is what I ended up doing today, and this was the path:



So I walk from the end of Rue Montorgueil over towards the Ile Saint Louis to my favorite cafe on the Ile, Le Flore en Isle. It overlooks Notre Dame and has a decent brunch and isn't too cher (expensive), although it does get a lot of tourists. All of their outside tables are fully seated, so j'ai marcher inside.

I sit on the banquette, looking out the window at all of the families out on their sunday walks, scarves around the necks of the men, women, and children tied in so many different ways that a sailor would be impressed. For as few times as I've been in Paris, I do have a "usual" at this café, so I order Le Brunch with les oeufs brouillé (scrambled) avec saumon fumé, jus de pamplemousse (grapefruit), croissant, et café crème. As I eat and soak in my surroundings, I note the couple next to me engaging in a hushed tête-a-tête. They longingly reach across the table to embrace, hold each others' hand and touch each other's face. They kiss. They appear to speak of their passion for one another as they mimic les pyramides de I.M.Pei by meeting midway across the table by leaning at 45 degrees in to form a perfect triangle.

Clearly he is French. She, a strawberry blonde, is perhaps German, perhaps Central European, speaking no French. As with their improvisation in geometry, they meet halfway as they speak in a language clearly non-native to each of them...English.

I continue to eat and observe the room and the world outside. She gets up to go wash her hands. Despite the typical French social norms, I engage him in conversation - telling him it's difficile pour moi to see them next to me comme çà since it makes me miss ma femme (Madame Katy). I tell him that I wish I had her here so that I could lean across the table like they have been doing.

He is quite friendly and open and we chat a little. He doesn't usually come to this cafe since it is "tros touristque". I agree, but also note that the view of Notre Dame est merveilleux. She returns, their desserts arrive, et un plus "chapter" de mon expérience Parisienne est complet.

Paying my bill and heading off, I thought I would check out the most chic of the large Parisian department stores, Le Bon Marché, on the other bank of the river, in Saint Germain. It's quite a walk, but the day is cool and comfortable, the trees are awash with the full pallet of autumn colors, les cafés sont plein (full), and the architecture est très jolie.



Walking past the elegant hotel Lutetia, I see the Bon Marché and...it is fermé! Ugh. Sunday! Zut alors!


PLAN C

Well, since I'm already in the 7th Arrondissement, let's explore a new neighborhood. I walk some more and get to a Place (major intersection of many roads) where there's a carte (map) of the neighborhood. I'm now in the 15th, where I thought my friends Nadia and Nicolas had told me to go to a great Chocolat Chaud café - Carette. I look it up in my little pocket guide (thanks, monsieur Bill) and see that Carette is not in the 15th - it is at the Place Trocadero...on the other side of the Seine just across from La Tour d'Eiffel. Should be a nice walk, I reasoned, so off I went.

Now this was starting to get to be a long walk, it seemed, so I was ready...VERY ready...for a chocolat chaud (hot chocolate). So I battle my way through the throngs of tourists, hawkers of crappy tchotchky's, and mimes and get myself over to the Trocadero.

I get to the door and..."Pardon, mais Carette est fermé depuis l'Octobre 2007 pour 3 mois". Closed?! For 3 months?!!

Merde.


PLAN D

OK. Maybe I'll just walk back over the Seine to the 7th since that's where Katy and my favorite restaurant in Paris resides - Chez L'Ami Jean (Pierre and Sophie's favorite too!). I didn't remember the address and foolishly never put it in my phone, but I remembered that it was 1) in the 7th arrondissement 2) it was on a rue perpendiculaire a la Seine et 3) the street had a short name, probably starting with an "m". Since there was such a street named "Rue Malar" in the 7th, I aimed for that.

After another long trek, I find Rue Malar and...Oh Happiness...there is L'Ami Jean! And...and...it is fermé.

Double-merde.

But at least I did find it. OK...nothing to do but walk home, I suppose.


PLAN E

As I walk to the end of Rue Malar and turn right, I take the long walk along Rue de l'Université that will lead me back to Saint Germain and perhaps a little café to keep me going. This street is a long one and leads from the 7th across the long park that leads from the Invalides to the river and on through to the 6th Arrondissement. The Invalides is a huge old building, beautifully lit up at night and is one of those reminders about why Paris is so special...and why I so miss my Katy-girl.

Passing the Invalides, the street goes past a number of government buildings and offices with police stationed outside around the clock. Just a few steps past them and I find myself face to face with No.81 Rue de l'Université. Or, as Julia Child called it when she first moved to Paris in 1948, "Roo de Loo". Julia is one of the inspirations for my trip, so it warmed mon coeur to see where she lived when she first moved to Paris.

Moving along, I was really dragging - this was some long walk - so I made my way to the famous Café des Deux Magots on the Boulevard Saint Germain. When I arrived, I felt blessed. There were several open tables outside, so I went in and asked the waiter if I could just take a table...he said yes! Oh joy! This is one plan that is finally working out! So I chose an open table and sat down, waiting for the waiter to arrive. I watched the terrier on the lap of its owner on the next seat over and I watched the waiters come within 2 tables of me for 15 minutes, but not a soul walked over to or past my table.

I almost gave up when a waiter (who had been to the adjacent table 3 times, studiously ignoring me each time) walked over to clear the adj table. I waved to him, he said "un minute monsieur", finished clearing the almost-empty shot-sized glasses of beer and the ashtray full of spent Gauloises, and walked away.

I was ready to throw in the "tao-elle" when another waiter finally walked up, grabbed the ruins of the three 1/2 pints of beer on my table and ask for my order. Un café creme s'il vous plait. Merci! I could almost taste it...one plan in action...one plan so close to fruition.

Although the waiter showed no sign of it, it felt to me like I was letting them down - waiting so long to order, then buying nothing more than a café crème. Perhaps they're just used to it. Perhaps they do enough volume to justify a few customers ordering nothing but a single biere ou café.

Now, with my order in, I relax a little and look around. They have many many tables on the street and they're situated next to a lovely cathedral that is all lit up for the night. It's been un jour gris (grey day), but ce soir (this evening), les avenues et les eglises (churches) sont illuminé. It is pretty beautiful here. Unlike many cities, spending time in Paris is not just spending time in the present. The breadth of old architecture around the city leads one to connect both with the present and the past at the same time. Something you feel in a place like Old Yaffa in Tel Aviv or in Rome or down in the small towns of the Dordogne. There's a spiritual aspect of this connection - something that reminds me a little of the feeling I get when I feel the connection to the earth in Santa Fe. Have I lived in California too long? Hmmm. Peut être.

Time to move on...pay l'addition pour mon café...et...quoi? What? €5.20 ($7) for just ONE café?! Damn, Skippy. I suppose that that is just the price of drinking coffee at Les Deux Magots...

Off I walked from my caffeine buzz, down Rue Bonaparte past the fabulous Ladurée, looking in to see them still open past 7PM on a Sunday night, still selling those little addictive pills they call Macarons. Exercising superhuman self control, I buy nothing.

Across the street is Hotel Le Villa, where Katy and I stayed for my birthday in 2006 (and the trip on which she discovered L'Ami Jean for us). I keep walking...on and on, past Saint Germain, down to the Seine, across, up past the old markets at Les Halles, and home.

20 miles. 5 plans. 1 tired puppy.

Bonne nuit.