“And when I’m returning from so far away
She gives me some sweet lovin’ t’ brighten up my day
Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me feel whole
Yes it makes me mellow down into my soul
I can hear her heart beat for a thousand miles
And the heavens open every time she smiles
And when I come to her that’s where I belong
Yet I’m running to her like a river’s song” – Van Morrison
We walk the back streets of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, under a cool mid-day drizzle. The air is perfumed with preparations of onion soup from an unseen kitchen. Eyes stay attuned to cobble-stone sidewalks to avoid tiny lap-dog droppings. Our destination is Café Mazarine where we enjoy a daily “cafe crème, bien chaud” served by an efficient, detached waiter. We are in Paris, and it is springtime!
Beauty is everywhere in La Ville–Lumière! Late-evening radiant sky, ivory limestone buildings, green-lined boulevards, grand monuments, elegance, romance, indulgencies, aloofness, subtle dangers – Paris is a demanding mistress.
Our perch surveying all this glory is a cozy 7th floor pied-à-terre overlooking the Seine and Notre Dame. Upon arrival, our building’s antique elevator is “having issues”. For a few days, we resolutely ascend the unending circular stairs telling ourselves the aerobic off-set is good therapy for excesses at dinner. And on the fourth day… viola, it is repaired!
Each day we set out energetically to commemorate places we love, and to discover new adventures in the rich array of arrondissments that ring the city.
Paris is smoking! Almost everyone, on the street, in open cafes, smokes and then lights up again. They’ve gotten the memo about certain death and they don’t care! I resolve to wear a nicotine patch for a few days when I get home. Well, we were wrong about cheese, wine, and coffee, so why raise self-righteous indignation…Vive la France!
The French have sacred respect for the quality of food. We fall in easily with daily rituals essential to French dégustation: breakfast is a chorus of Greek and fruited yogurt, apples and almonds, and medieval cheeses, artisanal breads, and consecrated jams selected at fabled shops in our quarter.
At Mme. Nicole Barthélémy’s fromagerie on Rue de Grenelle, redolent cheeses are evident to the nose 30 yards from the entrance. A cheerful, patient cheese-monger makes selections for us based on questions of region, mammary source, and potency. She smiles with appreciation as her sample tastings fill our basket: stately Pont-l’Évêque from Normandy, Rocamadour, a gooey goat gladness, and creamy Bleu d’Auvergne.
Sadly, these hand-made, raw-milk masterpieces do not travel to America.
Simple food, perfectly prepared, and served in cozy settings is our destination for dinners: Café La Rotonde in Montparnasse, favored by newly-elected Emmanuel Macron (as well as Picasso and Modigliani), maintains proud standards for classic dishes like duck à l’orange or noble oysters from Normandy.
Café Varenne, guarded by machine-gun toting National Police (Prime Minister’s residence is down the street) has friendly white-aproned garcons serving textured pâté de maison and “grand-mère’s” roasted chicken with heavenly mashed potatoes. Such treasures should be protected!
Security is present everywhere. Bag checks at stores, museums, and public buildings, and events. Riot police, sleeping in caravans of blue trucks, are a regular feature at high-profile happenings.
At Place de la Republic, the youthful “réguler le cannabis” crowd radiating a contraband cloud was ten times the size of competing Kurdish-Marxists-Against-Turkey! The police seem to (sternly) enjoy themselves as they chaperone the throng. C’est la guerre!
Gypsy beggars, an established tradition, this year employ a new twist: kids and women huddle under blankets at busy corners emulating Syrian refugees. An online report claims they clear 120 Euros an hour!
Aside from explorations of colorful, and sometime edgy African, Arabic (Moroccan, Algerian), and Asian districts, the museums, and galleries of Paris are unequaled. Musee d’Orsay, transformed train station on the Seine, presents an impossibly brilliant collection of Impressionists. The Louvre, enormous palace to French kings, is a virtual city of treasures where scale and volume overwhelm individual masterpieces (ho,hum…there’s the Mona Lisa).
Set in a park north of the Arc d’Triomphe, the new Foundation Louis Vuitton, designed by visionary American Frank Gehry, is thrilling and fun. The architecture, of course, is an exhibit in itself and the revolving collection – presently modern African Art, is creatively curated. I angle for a perfect photo in the trajectory of a pulsing fountain spray. Half-soaked, I got my shot!
More than once, polite citizens offer me their seat on the crowded, efficient Metro. I decline with a smile of surprise and gratitude. I guess I’ve joined the respected company of French war veterans, pregnant woman, and the infirm. C’est la vie.
All photos captured on iPhone 7+. Click on any photo to ride the carousel:
What an exciting time to be in Paris. I love your recap of beauty everywhere! and the may sites, smokin’ energy and your daily rituals. Spring’ 17, sounds like both a special and historic time to be in Paris.
Your news hound tendencies have uncovered great tidbits, expertly crafted and perfectly described, that I have completely savored.
Thank you so much for sharing with me.