Bon soir, Paris

This is it.  Last night.  J'adore Paris, voila, c'est tout.

I did pack this morning.  Tomorrow morning I clean (it's a small place) and then I turn the always sticky keys in the two deadbolts one last time.  

I had just finished packing and was getting ready to go out when, surprise, the telephone rang.  It was Doreet, my friend whom I thought had probably already left Paris.  We decided to meet at le Pompidou, the huge modern museum for modern art.  So, the three of us, including her daughter Kochav (which means star) strolled around listening to musicians, buying stuff and then we had a little lunch.  I saw a man standing on a small stool dressed all in white with white gloves and white on his face and hair also.  He was standing so still, like a statue.  When I walked around to the front of him I was amazed and I said so, something like...:"amazing!"  The only thing moving were his eyes, which were also the only color showing on him.  And, then, he winked at me!  Such a small thing, but it made a good difference.

Tonight the sky is clear so that as the sun sets, the long, last golden rays catch the tops of buildings and statues and trees, and even as I was walking here to the cafe, the people way up in front of me in the street--like a blanket of golden light, and the backdrop was a cobblestone street with houses from centuries ago.  (They're playing Roadhouse Blues on the stereo in the cafe right now).  I'm having a beer.  I'm not going to ruminate too much....just enjoy the moments here.

The photo of the building is a restaurant called Le Precope.  Here is what it says on the plaque next to the door:

Cafe Precope--founded in 1686 by Precopio Dei Coltelli--The oldest cafe in the world and the most celebrated center of literary and philosophical life of the 18th and 19th centuries.  It was frequented by La Fontaine, Voltaire, the Encyclopedests, Benjamin Franklin, Danton, Marat, Balzac, Victor Hugo, Gambetta, Verlaine and Anatole France.

Bon Soir, Paris.

Quiet day

Tired today.  Shopped a little this morning, then made myself a salad for lunch.  Slept then wrote for hours.  Happily, I can write and write here, and I am.  Tomorrow...pack, clean.  

The red cafe where I am sitting is in this picture.  The funny little man is a sculpture that I saw in a store.  It was about 8 inches tall.  

There really is no way to describe Paris.  The freedom one can achieve here is huge.  The energy with all these people around--formidable.  How different it will be in calm Minnesota. 

Meandering

Ho-hum.  Another day in Paris.  This was my day of wandering aimlessly.  Well, within certain parameters, of course.  I wandered through Le Marais, a part of town with many historical (meaning huge, gigantic) buildings and lots of small side streets made of cobblestone lined with small shops, boutiques and cafes.  There are also stores for regular living. There were no clouds today and it was warm.  The sun light on the white buildings...well, you can see for yourself.  It kills me. 

I turned a corner and found myself on a street filled with Jewish people (I could tell by the skull caps on many of the men) and by the stores and restaurants which had Hebrew and French writing in the windows and on signs.  There were several falafel places and one in particular had a line way down the block.  I remembered it was recommended in a magazine I read.  

When I got home, I slept, then wrote for a while.  Thoughts of leaving here are beginning to seep in.  Mostly logistical...notifying the shuttle, how to use up my food (and euros).  The other kind of thoughts...about being here in Paris...PARIS!! are a little harder to deal with.  I suppose it will always be here to return to or dream about.  Hey, I still have two more nights after tonight....

Rue de Rome

 I don't want to sleep (which is a good thing because I'm not sleeping much).  This huge European city at the end of August of 2008 looking much as it did many generations ago when it feels like I was here walking some of these streets. They're so familiar.  It's probably just my imagination.  This place sparks my imagination.  These buildings, these huge edifices stand before time the way mountains do.  I think about the Germans running through these beautiful and elegant streets, wild with power and entitlement during World War 2.  Or whole blocks being blown up.  Today I saw a memorial plaque to the deportation demarcating a square where the people were gathered up.  Someone always wants power over someone else, and there's always a justifiable reason.  At the very least it's human nature.  I disagree.  I've had so many clues, so much shown to me.  I've been given happiness.  Ah, Paris.

Rue de Rome--lined with luthiers' shops.  It felt different up there (I think of it as up because that's where it is on my map...up and over.).  There were few tourists.  I saw three people carrying instruments into the shops for repairs, two violins and a cello.  One woman had a cello on her back in a backpack case.  Hey, I thought, I get this place really well.  Some of the windows had artful displays, some were just shop windows.  There were musicians walking around in black. I had lunch on a corner of Rue de Rome and read my writing book, starting over at the beginning.  I had a salad with tuna and vinegrette and some diced potatoes.  

I rested this afternoon, wrote, played my violin.  I'm back at Cafe Conti.  I like it here better than MacDonald's.  Go figure.

Alone in Paris

Here I am, all alone in Paris!  I saw Vanessa off this morning.  She has to go back to work tomorrow (Chicago Public Radio) and even spend three hours on the air after what will be a very long day today for her.  Last night we celebrated the end of her visit to Paris with a fragrant and delicious dinner at an Indian restaurant near where we live.  It rained most of yesterday so we both caught up on some rest, reading and writing.  In the afternoon we went down to the Seine (2 blocks) to take a tour boat ride.  We sat in a glass covered boat next to the open window and watched as the Lovre, the Tuilleries, Place de la Concord, the Eiffel Tower, the Musee D'Orsay, the smallest house in Paris, the oldest bridge in Paris (gift of Louis XIV) and a million other wonders slowly passed by.  Delightful.

The day before, I went to the museum D'Orsay with Dorit and Cohav.  Aside from being there with a tired ten year old, it was outstanding.  I loved the Manets, Pissaros, the Van Goghs, the Monets, Renoirs.  There were others, too, but these guys were the ones whose work I adored....especially Monet, Manet and Pissaro.  I saw Whistler's Mother!  It was a pretty dour painting, actually, and huge.  There was a large body of work by Degas...what a prolific artist.  The above photo of one of his small sculptures reminded me of me, so I took a picture of it.  My body has been cooperating fairly well here in Paris.  It helps if I can lie down every once in a while.  

 

Today, Monday, the sun is out and so am I.  Right now I'm sitting at a different bistro that advertises Wi-fi on their window.  I was hoping to be able to retrieve my emails, but, alas, no.  So, know that your comments to me on this blog are greatly appreciated.  This little restaurant sits at the intersection of 5 busy streets; cars, scooters, motos, people, trucks, bicycles.  And, as always, many people with long scarves wrapped around their necks, following the dictates of fashion.  Moi, I walk around with my big hat and sunglasses looking like I don't know what and caring less.  I could get used to this place quite easily.  

I really do feel unfettered and alive.  The shopping in this city is unbelievable.  Everywhere I go (which is always by foot) I window shop.  Today, many shops are closed because it's Monday.  If anyone needs a purse, there are 437 million of them for sale in Paris.  Tomorrow, I plan to walk to Rue de Rome which is where all the violin shops are.  Hopefully, I won't get lost as it will be a long, long walk to get there, if I can manage to take a direct route.  No birds have shit on me since the second Eiffel Tower visit.  I don't need to go there again.

Tonight I write.  I have put my story into chapters.  It may not sound like much, but, believe me....it is!!

Long Walks

What a day.  Vanessa and I went our separate ways today.  I walked to the Jardin du Luxembourg and sat there in awe for a while.  I read my book and was highly tempted to paint, but because there were so many people and no place somewhat private to be, I had to be satisfied with some photos and a short video.  What a lovely garden.  I don't know the history...maybe the one whose grande maison it was was a tyrant, or maybe he was a general or a politician or an ambassador.  But somebody in that family had a very good sensibility when it came to the feng shue of flowers and trees.  Who dreams up something that beautiful and then sees it carried out?  Someone with plenty of money at their disposal, that's for sure.

After getting warmed up at le jardin, I decided to walk to Montmartre.  I spent some time along the way referring repeatedly to my map, searching for the correct streets I needed to take to get me there.  In Paris, if you take a wrong street for a block, then decide to take a couple of lefts to meet up again with the street you missed, what you find is that your way is suddenly intersected by several diagonal streets that, even though they look like you're going the right way, end up taking you farther away from your goal rather than closer.  So, I did a wee bit of redundant backtracking up behind the Opera (another amazing grand building).  I couldn't find the right street for the longest time.  By the time I had walked all the way up to the Basilique du Sacre Coeur (and I mean UP...all uphill), walked around and finally found a restaurant wherein to rest my most weary bones, I had walked for more than three hours without stopping.  The muscles and blood vessels in my legs pulsated the whole time I ate!  The walk back was not nearly the adventure of earlier, but evening in Paris is a sight to behold, no matter how badly one needs a toilette.

Aside from the rain yesterday, the skies have been filled with scuttling white puffy clouds (and an occasional gray one) that block the sun and make it chilly enough for a sweater.  Then, minutes later, the sun is back out and the sweater comes off.  There are so many people here.  There must just be so many people in the world, period.

Rain

We awoke this morning to the soft patter of rain (well, actually we awoke at dawn when the restaurant downstairs rolled large, heavy objects around the cobblestone courtyard, just like every other morning).  Before Vanessa got up, I rearranged all my belongings, as they had been accumulating messiness over the days.  We spent most of the day in a huge department store (7 stories) where we both made a few choice purchases.  Lunch wasn't too bad in their cafeteria, either.  We walked home (in the rain) where we split a millefouille.  In Minnesota, when I buy one of those things, it's called a Napoleon.  In line at the cafe, I had to ask for it three times before the woman became impatient with me and called the man over.  He didn't know what I was talking about, either.  So, Vanessa and I stood before the display case poking our finger on the glass as he said, in French, this one?  this one?  this one?  Once selected correctly, they taught us that it was called a millefouille and in order to take it home with us we need to say...well, I can't remember the word right now....But, words can hardly describe the pastries here, and the one we had was indescribable.  I'm limiting myself to no more than one per day....so far.

Last night as I sat waiting (in MacDonald's, remember ?) for my computer to upload photos onto the blog I had written, a girl sat down on the stool next to me, turned to me and said sweetly, bonjour.  She was blowing huge plastic bubbles the size of a lopsided basketball through a short, narrow straw and trying to sell them to people in MacD's for half a euro.  When her mother went to use the restroom, she asked me to keep an eye on her daughter.  I tried to talk to her in French but she obviously didn't understand.  It turns out that they are from Israel, this woman and her ten year old daughter, and will be in Paris for 8 days.  The woman is an artist and used to be the photographer for the Israeli Philharmonic.  She asked me if I was related to a cellist there because I look so much like him.  They had had a miserable first day in Paris...wrong buses, phone cards that didn't work, bickering with each other....We may visit Montmartre together.  I want to go there as well as Rue de Rome which is where all the violin shops are.  I know I'll be sorry I didn't bring a WHOLE lot more money with me when I go there.

A guy from California just asked me about the wireless hook-up here at MacDonald's and I have a sneaky suspicion that wasn't the only kind of hook-up he was interested in.  Across the street in the cafe, a young couple are making out under the awning, out of the rain.  Everywhere I go I see lovers of all varieties, holding hands, embracing, sharing this beautiful city, where every street is a story and every view is a miracle.

Many, many, many, many people

It's evening in Paris.  There are so many tourists here that just walking down the sidewalk is a dicey proposition.  All day long, Vanessa and I have dodged zillions like us who visit the sites with cameras and cell phones in hand, standing in awe of the enormous and beautiful buildings.  We strolled along side the Louvre (which may be the largest continuous building I've ever seen), promenaded (?) through the Tuilleries, negotiated our way across Place de la Concorde and on up the Champs Elysees to L'Arch de Triumphe.  Every time I look up or over or across I am filled with a kind of happiness, for being here, for getting to see Paris and experience the excitement along with throngs of others from everywhere.  So far, we haven't spotted a pickpocket.  But, that is their trademark...they're not seen, eh?  I look forward to learning some of the history of this place, hopefully from Paul, after I return to what will no doubt feel plain and humble...Minnesota.

Last night Vanessa went out for a walk and I stayed in the room.  I pulled my violin out from where it's hiding under the bed and played for a good 45 minutes, all the Bach and Gypsy Jazz I could remember.  Wow!  Playing in Paris.  I'm tempted to stroll the streets here in the Latin Quarter with it.  There are musicians playing on many of the street corners, and the woman I just heard singing on my way here makes me feel like my music might be welcome (she was pretty awful).  I kept the window open while I played and felt the Paris night air as a very welcoming and energizing presence.  Ooooo, I love it here.  

After I played I was invigorated,  so I laid on my bed with my computer and worked on my novel for a couple of hours.  I've been reading a wonderful book about writing by John Gardner called On Becoming a Novelist.  It's like carrying around the best teacher, mentor and friend with you.  Today, while I was waiting for Vanessa to climb the Eiffel Tower (again) I was reading my book and a bird shit on me (again).  This time it went on my beloved book and on my backpack.  I have probably visited the Eiffel Tower enough times on this trip.

My feet are holding up.  I have to go back to my room to work now...

  

Long Walks

Paris is the most beautiful city I have ever seen.  The vistas across the Seine which encompass massive light stone buildings many blocks long evoke a distant past and make me wonder if I have walked these streets in my dreams or in a life lived as a scrappy boy scooting through the legs of the city dwellers.  Yesterday we journeyed to the Eiffel Tower from our humble abode in the Latin Quarter, seeing across the river the Tuilleries, the Grand Palais and so many beautifully designed streets and buildings that I found myself in a suspended state of breath intake and had to remember to breathe deeply the cool air, the old smells of the city.  I never tire of seeing the old tree lined streets with the balconied apartments rising above, the shops and commerce happening below.  

We arrived at the Eiffel Tower after a 50 minute walk not including the lunch we stopped for under the towering watch of La Tour Eiffel.  We searched for an affordable lunch site and decided on a Vietnamese place; omelette and some freaky little fried "egg rolls" that served to keep the wolf away.  Then, while Vanessa ascended to the top amid throngs of people from absolutely everywhere, I sought a quiet sit in the gardens where I people watched for a long time, read my book, then, finally, laid down and slept in the grass.  When I awoke I found the bathroom with a 45 minute line (a real test), then sat on a bench under a tree to avoid a light rain shower where a bird shit on my sleeve and finally Vanessa returned.  

On our way home we were caught in a deluge.  We ducked under an overhang and stood for a while, hoping the rain would end.  Finally, we just set out in the rain, our arms around each other, sharing our one umbrella.  Eventually the rain stopped and we made our way home through ancient streets filled with modern shoppers. 

When we went to fix dinner in our flat, we found that our lettuce was frozen, so we had a chopped vegetable dinner with some seedy bread we had bought, an excellent glass of $7 Cote de Rhone and, for me, my first eclair...mmmm.  Sleep eluded both of us and we woke up today at 1:30 p.m. and, after buying a croissant, found ourselves sitting at the MacDonald's writing to you.  Bon Journee.

Off to Paris

  I am breathing the clear evening air of Paris, sitting in a (!) MacDonald's that has wireless internet, close to my flat, around the corner and down a narrow cobblestone street that is filled with people from everywhere who are eating, walking, talking, shopping and looking at all the other people.  My exhausted friend, Vanessa, is sitting next to me gazing out the window at the mobilettes parked in a row waiting for someone to pay the fee and jump on.  If you turn left coming out of our courtyard, go to the end of the street, turn right for half a block, you come out in full view of the Cathedral of Notre Dame.  We had lunch sitting in awe of it.  

We are bleary eyed today.  The flight was, of course, long and arduous.  But we have both come through it intact.  We spent very little time at the airport here.  Our shuttle was efficient and perfect.  Because we weren't supposed to be in the flat until 2:00 and we arrived here about 9:00 a.m. (2:00 a.m. our time), we walked around, had lunch, shopped for a little food for the flat, before we collapsed into a 4 hour nap.  

We're about to visit the Seine, which is a block or two from where we live, to watch evening fall over this amazing and beautiful city.