A little Brazil, a little France

August 12, 2016 -- Dinner with the Beckmans:  we’d been looking forward to it.  This was a chance to laugh, talk freely, enjoy great food in great company, catch up on each others’ lives, and enjoy life.

Indirectly, we met them eleven years ago via this Paris Journal.  We’d become friends with one of the journal’s readers, a scientist from Berkeley, California.  Our scientist friend’s wife’s parents are old friends of the Beckmans, and so the connection was made.

Town hall of the 15th arrondissement.

The first time we spent September in the Beckmans’ apartment in the 6^th was in 2006.  We are deeply grateful for all the wonderful Septembers we spent there.  What a perfect location it was, right around the corner from the Saint Sulpice church.  Other friends enjoyed the place, too.  We are all so fond of the Beckmans.

Elisabeth Beckman had lived in Brazil for part of her childhood.  So we wanted her to experience Le Pario, where the chef, Eduardo Jacinto, combines his French cooking skills with his Brazilian heritage – in a creative manner. 

Dinner was a big success.  Everyone enjoyed their food, which was beautifully presented.  Tom and I shared a gnocchi starter that had a heavenly cheese sauce and interesting veggies. 

Gnocchi in cheese sauce, with veggies.

Tom’s main course was lobster, served in a fun, frothy sauce.  Mine was a beef tataki – really tasty and cleverly served in bite size chunks arranged on a sparkling platter.

Lobster at Le Pario

Beef tataki at Le Pario

Ron took Tom’s suggestion and ordered the veal chop, which looked fabulous.  Tom couldn’t resist ordering the profiteroles again for dessert.  There is no better, richer chocolate sauce.

We lingered for a long time after dinner, talking and laughing.  Finally, it was time to go.  We walked the Beckmans to the Charles Michels metro stop where the line 10 would take them back to that great place in the 6^th.

Earlier in the day, we’d taken a long walk down to the Parc Saint Lambert.  After we exited the flowery park, we saw a new phenomenon on the rue Léon Séché.  The street has been closed off to cars, and a cobblestone surface has been added or restored.  Lining the little street are new wooden planters hosting a wild assortment of plants.

A bright green and gold sign erected by the City of Paris explains that this is now a vegetated street, “a street where one can garden, a more convivial street that creates social ties, a street that favors biodiversity, a street that refreshes the city in the summer.  Where to garden? In the pots and planters, on the border of the façade, at the foot of the trees.  Together, we vegetate Paris.”

So the neighbors are responsible for this wild assortment of plants.  Very interesting. 

After soaking in this enjoyable change, we went on to the square in front of the stately town hall of the 15^th arrondissement.  There Tom was pleased to discover a rising bollard.  Ever since he first encountered a sign in London announcing that one should “beware of rising bollards,” he’s been on the lookout for them – must be a male thing.

Tom found a rising bollard.

Tom wanted to see the Square Vergennes again, so I led the way through the Square Adolphe Chérioux to the rue Vaugirard.  We crossed the street and soon were out of the traffic noise, and into the serenity of this little lane that isn’t a square exactly, but rather more of an “L.”  At the crook of the L is the Musée Mendjisky, a place we’d like to see.  It will re-open after vacation on August 22.

Ever since we first discovered it, we thought a townhouse on the Square Vergennes would be an ideal place to live in Paris.  One of the townhouses there is the Hungarian embassy.  Little embassies are scattered amusingly about throughout neighborhoods in Paris.

Then we enjoyed a long stroll down the rue Vaugirard, passing by my favorite costume jewelry store, Pour, which is also closed for vacation until August 22.

We turned right on the rue de la Convention to head back toward home.  One block of that street is devoid of street-level retail, so it is a little boring.  But I noticed that one of the blockish buildings on that street is a Credit Cooperative, which I guess is like a credit union.  This financial institution has a number of posters displayed in glass windows on its walls, with interesting, humanitarian messages relating to money: 

“Another bank is possible.”

“To invest in the benevolence, the cooperation, and the engagement.  With you, we can.”

“Cooperation for my region.  My savings finance the social economy and solidarity in our region.  It is there that my money is the most useful.  Together!”

“To choose where your money goes to act for changing the world.  With us, you can.”

Soon after that block was behind us, we passed the beautiful Accent Corse bistro, which is closed for vacation until the end of the month.  And then there was L’Argument, at number 121 rue de la Convention, the former home of Bistrot 121 where we enjoyed many reasonably priced, good dinners.  Bistrot 121 closed last year, and L’Argument opened.  We haven’t yet tried L’Argument, which appears to be a classic brasserie, with continuous service throughout the day. 

As we passed by, one of the servers who had also worked at Bistrot 121 looked out and saw us.  He smiled and waved.  How could he possibly have such a good memory?

L'Argument, 121 rue de la Convention

We turned right on the avenue Félix Faure.  We still had one more destination, on the way home;  Le Monde et Nous is my favorite boutique in Paris.  It features Italian-made women’s clothing, shoes and handbags.  It was time to replace the last handbag I bought there, so Tom and I stopped in.  I tried on a couple tops, but finally decided simply on a well-made black leather handbag.

With that purchase in hand, we strolled on past the St. John the Baptist of Grenelle church and up the rue du Commerce.  We stopped in the Thomas fromagerie to buy some more delicious Salers cheese and other necessities such as milk and butter from Brittany, and for Tom, another jar of the best strawberry preserves.

So there you have it.  Another 10,000 steps in Paris.  Come walk with us again tomorrow.

The Parc Saint Lambert was built atop a former gas works.
 Simone de Beauvoir taught briefly at the school in the background.

Living in Paris

August 11, 2016 -- The apartment where we stay in Paris is typical of the apartments found in mid-19^th century through early 20^th century Parisian apartment buildings.  While the building is a bit late to be called “Haussmannian,” it certainly has most of the prominent Haussmannian features: stone façade with carvings, balconies with iron railings, French-door windows, high ceilings, fancy crown moldings, fireplaces, small kitchen, toilet room separate from the bathroom, etc.

Hay sculpture near the Eiffel Tower.

Back in the old days, most apartments like this would also have a chambre de bonne – a maid’s room – on the top floor.  The owners of this apartment did not have a chambre de bonne – until this year.  Somehow, they were able to buy one from one of the other owners in the building.

Ceilings are not high on the top level, where these servants’ quarters are located.  The rooms are small.  There is a shared toilet room which has – gasp! – a Turkish toilet!  Another padlocked door nearby hopefully leads to a slightly more modern shared bathroom.  It is all a mystery to us.

The chambre de bonne which is now associated with this apartment has a sink, and it has a nice view of the Eiffel Tower.  The owners left the key out for us so we could take a peek at their acquisition.  It is cute, but it is difficult to imagine living in such a small space.  Nevertheless, people do.  Tom says he has seen rooms like this offered for sale for 100,000 euros!

Flowers in the Place du Commerce

Theoretically, it is possible to put a shower and a toilet in a chambre de bonne like this.  That would be a tight squeeze, and every square inch would have to be used efficiently.   Once you see a chambre de bonne like this, it is easier to see why Parisian hotel rooms tend to be so small.

Tomorrow evening, we are meeting friends who will be staying at the Westin, up on the rue de Rivoli.  That’s a posh hotel, and the rooms aren’t so small there.  One of these friends works for Starwood hotels, and so she gets a nice discount at the Paris Westin.

They’ll be jet lagged tomorrow, so I suggested we simply eat at the Westin’s restaurant, Le First, where I can get a 30 percent discount via Lafourchette.com.  Le First is a fine dining place, with a good chef (David Real), so this should be fun.  We had planned to dine there once before, a few years ago, but something came up and I had to cancel those plans. 

Last night’s dinner was a good value, at La Table D’Hubert.  The food wasn’t quite as good as we remembered, but the price was right.  And the welcome we received from Hubert was lovely; he remembered us, and seated us at our regular table.  One reason we were originally attracted to La Table D’Hubert is that it is in the exact location where we dined at Aux Trois Chevrons, many years ago.  That restaurant was owned by Chef Serge Bonis, who is a friend of Jean Paul, a retired French restaurateur who lives now on Sanibel Island, not far from where we live.

I ran into Jean Paul last month at the Santiva General Store, where he had just eaten lunch. (He also likes to eat at the Lazy Flamingo.)  I sat down to talk with him for a while.  He misses France, and Paris in particular, very much.  We talked about places, avenues, parks, and other aspects of Paris.  We oohed and aahed with fond memories.  He said he would perhaps visit Paris in October.  I hope that he does.  Giving up Paris would hurt.

To Saint Sulpice and back again

August 10, 2016 -- One of the places that makes Paris home-away-from-home for me is located not so close to this apartment in the 15th arrondissement, where we stay.  Instead, it is way over in the heart of the 6th arrondissement:  the grand church of Saint Sulpice.

I'm not sure why I feel so at home in that particular church.  It is more somber than many of the other Catholic churches in this city; perhaps, as a Protestant, that somber quality appeals to me. 

Lion in the Place Saint Sulpice

Saint Sulpice is a great, hulking church.  Its length is only 20 meters shorter than that of Notre Dame, over on the Ile de la Cité.  But it is heavier in its decoration – or, rather, lack thereof, than Notre Dame.

Tom decided that he wanted us to walk over to the 6^th arrondissement yesterday.  I said, “Great, you lead the way.”  He likes to walk a route that is not the most direct, but does go around UNESCO. 

The walk was almost the same as always.  One change:  the guard stationed outside the park called the Jardin Catherine Labouré is now carrying an automatic rifle.  Farther down the rue de Sevres, we saw three tall soldiers come around a corner, each carrying a large automatic rifle and wearing combat fatigues.

Thinking of my sister as I photographed Saint Sulpice.
She likes this church, too.

Tom wanted to visit the square in front of Saint Sulpice.  We did that, and then I wanted to go in the church.  Inside, we examined the displays set up for the Jubilee of the Misericorde:  fairly philosophical, theological stuff, and all in French – but interesting.

Tom wanted to see the Delacroix paintings at the church, but they are walled off for a restoration project.  That’s good; those paintings needed some serious restoration.  I noticed that the expository sign for the Delacroix restoration area promoted the idea of making private donations toward the project.  Since we’ve enjoyed those paintings so much for so many years, I photographed the web site name on the sign, and this morning we made a donation – something I’ve never done in French before. (Sometimes I use the camera to "take notes.")

The brasserie called Le Pre aux Clercs beckoned to us, so we had refreshments there.  

Then we walked along the rue Jacob after our visit to the church.  Tom just loves that street.  I do, too, but I wish the sidewalks were wider.  There is so much to stop and look at in the shop windows, but little space for pedestrians to maneuver around the window shoppers.

Tom pauses on a bench as we walk over to the 6th arrondissement.
The bench he sits on is labeled "le banc de Marcel."
The other bench is labeled "l'autre banc de Marcel."  Very funny.

Up toward the Seine we went, through the little archway at the Institute de France, and voila!  There was the lovely river with a view of the Louvre and the Institute.  At the rue Guénégaud we turned back toward the heart of the 6^th.  In this area are many art galleries.  At this time of year, gallery owners tend to feature their African art.  So on a day like this, a number of men from Africa roam the streets of the 6^th, scoping out pedestrians who look like they might be African art collectors.  Obviously, these men have something to sell.

Tom was looking prosperous in his navy blue blazer, and so many of these men stopped him to ask if he was interested in African art.  He smiled and said, “Merci, non” to each of them.

I wouldn’t say we aren’t interested, but we just aren’t interested in acquiring stuff now.

The views inside Le Pre aux Clercs are confusing because of all the mirrors.
So you can see me taking the photo.  (Merry wanted pictures with Tom
and me in them, but I don't know why.)

We crossed the grand boulevard Saint Germain and found the Mabillon entrance to the line 10 Metro.  The time was 4:30PM – prime rush hour.  We’ve been on that train before at rush hour, and it has always been fairly full then.  But not yesterday.  The cars had plenty of empty seats.  It looked more like a Sunday morning, rather than a weekday rush hour.

After buying ten metro tickets (14.70 euros) as we exited the Émile Zola station, I decided to stop in my favorite Nicolas wine shop for the first time this summer.  As I entered, I immediately noticed that the shop had been renovated and had a new layout.  Nevertheless, I found three of my favorites within a minute.  The new shopkeeper, a young man, was as nice as could be.

In the evening, we strolled down the Avenue Émile Zola again, this time to dine at L’Épopée.  There we were given a mis-en-bouche of bright pink beet soup.  Then we shared a starter course of shrimp in thin pastry tubes, served with a delicate little salad and homemade rouille sauce.  Both of us ordered the barbequed pork ribs, which were fine.  They came with a mixture of vegetables that was excellent.

Cold beet soup mis en bouche.

I often think of our former cat, General Burnside, at dinnertime.  He had the most polite way of begging at the table.  He’d stand up on his back legs, prop himself against your dining chair with one of this front legs, and with the soft paw on his other front leg, he’d gently tap you on your leg, and he’d emit a soft little meow, as if to say, “um, excuse me, I am a cat here, I need some of your food please, just a little please, if you could be so kind.”

Years ago, we used to see feral cats darting about here or there as we wandered home after dinner in Paris.  However, through a campaign of sterilization, I think, the city of Paris has managed to just about eliminate feral cats from the cityscape.

But the other day, we saw one dart right in front of us, and disappear into the lush vegetation of the garden at the Musée du Quai Branly – Jacques Chirac.  Upon reflection, I think that this is a most appropriate place for a wild cat – a lion in the jungle, a panther in the swamp – a cat that magically appears, and disappears, in the mist.

Storefronts telling stories

August 9, 2016 -- The storefronts of Paris delight those who love to amble aimlessly.  Some shop windows are sleek and shiny, showing off the latest fashions.  Some are cluttered with cute and colorful stuff.  Some are welcoming, even enticing, strewn with good things to consume.  Some, like the travel agency windows, tell stories about places you can go, things you can do.  And some are deliberate or unintentional throwbacks to a Paris of the past, one that exists only in spots, here and there.

Souvenir shop on the Avenue de la Bourdonnais welcomes in many languages.

Au Petit Sud-Ouest, on the Avenue de la Bourdonnais, specializes in foie gras.  Toasters on the tables ensure that
your toast is warm when it receives the foie gras.

The use of English as a seemingly clever way of naming a business is popular, but as you can see,
it is fraught with unintentional (and funny) poor word choice.  Been food, now what?  Indigestion?
(Been Food is located on the rue Saint Charles.)

The nearest bar/tabac to our apartment is this one on the rue du Commerce.  Always, until this year, it has been closed for the entire month of August.  I am shocked to see that it is open for the entirety of August this year!  There is even a small poster by the front door announcing this, for those of us who can hardly believe our eyes.  While Tom and I do not hang out in bars at all, we do realize that the bar/tabac is an important resource for buying metro tickets, stamps, sim card recharges, and lotto tickets.  This tabac has never made any attempt to update or upgrade itself.  It is a time capsule, standing in stark contrast to the shops up and down the street, a rue du Commerce which has become a chic shopping destination.

Looking down at the rue du Commerce.

Lots of good chemistry here . . . .

August 8, 2016 -- Hotel occupancy rates in Paris are half of what they were last year, according to an article published yesterday in the British newspaper, The Telegraph.  The article states that, “Jean-Pierre Nadir of the travel website Easyvoyage said terrorism was not the only factor discouraging foreign visitors.”  Mr. Nadir said that the strikes in June and July were also factors.

Those strikes involved taxi drivers, labor unions, refuse collectors, and airline and railroad workers.  I know I was worried about those – especially Air France pilot strikes – when we were originally scheduled to travel here in late June.  Tom and I were negatively affected by an AF pilot strike two summers ago.  We didn’t want to go through that again!

The strikers announce their strikes in advance; the terrorists do not.

Sunset on August 5, as seen from our balcony.

Oh, we tried our darnedest to get here this year, but we were delayed by a month.  The strikes didn’t deter us; neither did terrorism.  We struggled with medical adventures and such, and finally we made it.  Better late than never.

We do notice the reduction in numbers of foreign tourists.  Now it is easier to spot French tourists who have come into the city from the provinces to enjoy all that the capitol has to offer.  Now it is also more apparent how many people in Paris are wearing traditional Muslim attire.  Without such huge masses of American, Japanese, and Chinese tourists, it is simply easier to notice everyone else.

If the first few days are any indication, I think people are being nicer than ever to us.  The judge who lives three floors below us stopped to chat with us at the elevator, to make us feel welcome.  That’s the first time she has done so in the 18 years we’ve been summering here.  Shopkeepers and cashiers are especially kind, too.  Maybe everyone is being nicer to everyone else now.  What the world needs now, is love, sweet love . . . .

Native American woman braids a young woman's hair as
her mother watches, at the 7th arrondissement's fair on
the Champ de Mars.

On the second evening we were in Paris, nature treated us to a fabulous sunset sky.  Yesterday, nature gave us lots of sun and warm temperatures (low 80s F), so we walked down to the great park André Citroën.  The park was crammed with locals – including lots of families with lots of kids -- enjoying abundant sunny and shady spots on the esplanade and in the gardens and woods.  The hot air balloon was operating, giving a birdseye view of it all to anyone who wanted to buy a ticket.

Our dinner reservation was at Le Tipaza, on the rue Saint Charles, not far from the park.  We were welcomed by three gentlemen at the door.  Apparently, they remember my favorable reviews from last summer.

The dinner met and exceeded our expectations at this place featuring North African cuisine.  The grilled meats were as good as ever, but the vegetables also amazed us this time – from the kemia mis-en-bouche to the Berber salad to the amazing ratatouille.  I do love restaurants that pay attention to the vegetables (instead of treating them like a forgettable garnish).

My reaction to the ratatouille was like that of the restaurant critic in the movie Ratatouille -- remember when he tastes it, and the flavor transports him back in time, to the memory of his mother's incomparable ratatouille?

Yes, it was THAT good!  (No my mother did not make ratatouille; but you get the idea!)

The Maison de la Chimie, 28 rue Saint-Dominique, 7th arrondissement

Speaking of kemia (the assorted marinated vegetable hors d’oeuvres served with drinks at the beginning of a North African dinner), I now realize that kemia is also the word for “chemistry” in a number of languages.

On Saturday’s walk home, we had paused in front of the Maison de la Chimie (Chemistry House) in the 7^th arrondissement.  This institution is located in what was once a very stately home, and it has recently been renovated.  Its broad, bright, clean, and restored stone façade is now decorated with banners extolling the importance of the science of Chemistry. 

Left end of the Maison de la Chimie

I love that about the French: generally they are NOT anti-intellectuals, and they believe in science.  Whereas an intellectual has nary a chance of being elected to higher office in the U.S. (our current President being the exception), in France, that happens frequently.  Politicians here even publish poetry, and they aren’t ridiculed for it (unless it is really bad poetry).

The Maison is actually a conference center, run by its own foundation/nonprofit organization.  Its primary purpose is to help scientists and engineers working in the chemistry world, but because of its location so close to the National Assembly, many other kinds of important functions and gatherings are held there as well.

The Maison de la Chimie is perhaps the most beautiful example of a stately home being used for an institutional purpose in the 7^th arrondissement, but there are so many fine examples . . . .

Right end of the Maison de la Chimie.

Today, we’re falling into the routine that we have in the summer; Tom is working on the next edition of The Norton Sampler, and I’m blogging, as you can tell (after having extended our wireless network in the apartment).  I’ll probably go out walking and doing errands this afternoon, and in the evening, Tom and I will go for a walk together, and will dine who knows where?  On va voir.

Lots of good chemistry here . . . .

August 8, 2016 -- Hotel occupancy rates in Paris are half of what they were last year, according to an article published yesterday in the British newspaper, The Telegraph.  The article states that, “Jean-Pierre Nadir of the travel website Easyvoyage said terrorism was not the only factor discouraging foreign visitors.”  Mr. Nadir said that the strikes in June and July were also factors.

Those strikes involved taxi drivers, labor unions, refuse collectors, and airline and railroad workers.  I know I was worried about those – especially Air France pilot strikes – when we were originally scheduled to travel here in late June.  Tom and I were negatively affected by an AF pilot strike two summers ago.  We didn’t want to go through that again!

The strikers announce their strikes in advance; the terrorists do not.

Sunset on August 5, as seen from our balcony.

Oh, we tried our darnedest to get here this year, but we were delayed by a month.  The strikes didn’t deter us; neither did terrorism.  We struggled with medical adventures and such, and finally we made it.  Better late than never.

We do notice the reduction in numbers of foreign tourists.  Now it is easier to spot French tourists who have come into the city from the provinces to enjoy all that the capitol has to offer.  Now it is also more apparent how many people in Paris are wearing traditional Muslim attire.  Without such huge masses of American, Japanese, and Chinese tourists, it is simply easier to notice everyone else.

If the first few days are any indication, I think people are being nicer than ever to us.  The judge who lives three floors below us stopped to chat with us at the elevator, to make us feel welcome.  That’s the first time she has done so in the 18 years we’ve been summering here.  Shopkeepers and cashiers are especially kind, too.  Maybe everyone is being nicer to everyone else now.  What the world needs now, is love, sweet love . . . .

Native American woman braids a young woman's hair as
her mother watches, at the 7th arrondissement's fair on
the Champ de Mars.

On the second evening we were in Paris, nature treated us to a fabulous sunset sky.  Yesterday, nature gave us lots of sun and warm temperatures (low 80s F), so we walked down to the great park André Citroën.  The park was crammed with locals – including lots of families with lots of kids -- enjoying abundant sunny and shady spots on the esplanade and in the gardens and woods.  The hot air balloon was operating, giving a birdseye view of it all to anyone who wanted to buy a ticket.

Our dinner reservation was at Le Tipaza, on the rue Saint Charles, not far from the park.  We were welcomed by three gentlemen at the door.  Apparently, they remember my favorable reviews from last summer.

The dinner met and exceeded our expectations at this place featuring North African cuisine.  The grilled meats were as good as ever, but the vegetables also amazed us this time – from the kemia mis-en-bouche to the Berber salad to the amazing ratatouille.  I do love restaurants that pay attention to the vegetables (instead of treating them like a forgettable garnish).

My reaction to the ratatouille was like that of the restaurant critic in the movie Ratatouille -- remember when he tastes it, and the flavor transports him back in time, to the memory of his mother's incomparable ratatouille?

Yes, it was THAT good!  (No my mother did not make ratatouille; but you get the idea!)

The Maison de la Chimie, 28 rue Saint-Dominique, 7th arrondissement

Speaking of kemia (the assorted marinated vegetable hors d’oeuvres served with drinks at the beginning of a North African dinner), I now realize that kemia is also the word for “chemistry” in a number of languages.

On Saturday’s walk home, we had paused in front of the Maison de la Chimie (Chemistry House) in the 7^th arrondissement.  This institution is located in what was once a very stately home, and it has recently been renovated.  Its broad, bright, clean, and restored stone façade is now decorated with banners extolling the importance of the science of Chemistry. 

Left end of the Maison de la Chimie

I love that about the French: generally they are NOT anti-intellectuals, and they believe in science.  Whereas an intellectual has nary a chance of being elected to higher office in the U.S. (our current President being the exception), in France, that happens frequently.  Politicians here even publish poetry, and they aren’t ridiculed for it (unless it is really bad poetry).

The Maison is actually a conference center, run by its own foundation/nonprofit organization.  Its primary purpose is to help scientists and engineers working in the chemistry world, but because of its location so close to the National Assembly, many other kinds of important functions and gatherings are held there as well.

The Maison de la Chimie is perhaps the most beautiful example of a stately home being used for an institutional purpose in the 7^th arrondissement, but there are so many fine examples . . . .

Right end of the Maison de la Chimie.

Today, we’re falling into the routine that we have in the summer; Tom is working on the next edition of The Norton Sampler, and I’m blogging, as you can tell (after having extended our wireless network in the apartment).  I’ll probably go out walking and doing errands this afternoon, and in the evening, Tom and I will go for a walk together, and will dine who knows where?  On va voir.

And they all went shopping

August 7, 2016 - The sky was blue, with scads of puffy white clouds, and the temperatures were in the mid-70s F so we just had to walk along the Seine.  On the way, we included a stopover in the garden of the Musée du Quai Branly, as we almost always do.  Just like last summer, a security guard was stationed at the entrance to the garden, checking bags.  I had my small black camera bag ready and open for him as I said, “Bonjour!”  He returned the greeting, and after a peek inside the bag, he thanked us and motioned us in to the lush green territory around and under this fascinating museum.

I note that the French culture czars now include former President Chirac’s name in the name of the museum.  So this year the place is called the “Musée du Quai Branly - Jacques Chirac.”

Walking along the banks of the Seine, under a bridge.

Chirac is given credit for founding this museum.  It is difficult to find a politically correct way of describing what this museum showcases.  The reality is that it features mostly art from cultures that were dominated and pilfered by France’s former acts of imperialism and colonialism.  The more politically correct description that the English-language version of the web site now incorporates is “The musée du quai Branly - Jacques Chirac is the heir to 200 years of history, enrichment, study and conservation of public collections. It conserves almost 370,000 works originating in Africa, the Near East, Asia, Oceania and the Americas which illustrate the richness and cultural diversity of the non-European civilisations from the Neolithic period (+/-10,000 B.C.) to the 20th century.”

Hmmmm.  A committee worked very hard on that verbiage, to be sure.

La Boudeuse

The garden looks better than ever due to the high rainfalls earlier in the summer and late spring.  We took a break on a bench and used the smart phone to look up information on Lucien and Sacha Guitry, a father-son duo famous for their acting, plays, and writing.  We often pass a building where they lived when we walk along the residential street just to the northeast of the Champ de Mars.

When we reached the banks of the Seine, we were surprised that there were not more people walking there.  After all, it was a gorgeous Saturday in the summer.  In recent years, the crowd of walkers would be so thick on days like this that it was nearly impossible to ride a bicycle through there.

We think the drop in the number of flaneurs along the Seine is due to fear of attacks.  If that’s true, it is sad.

Still, we were thrilled to be there, soaking in the scenery.  The beautiful three-mast ship called La Boudeuse was on display, in all its glory.  Last summer, we saw it as it was being spiffed up for its new mooring on the Seine.  This summer, it floats there by the bank, looking gorgeous.  It was originally built in 1916 in the Netherlands.  It had an environmental education role here on the Seine until early 2016.  I’m not sure where it is headed next.  On va voir.

Next we inspected (only by peering through the windows) the flood damage caused to the Faust restaurant located under the left bank end of the Pont Alexandre III.  The clean-up project continues.  The restaurant won’t reopen for some time, it seems.

So we continued on to the café boat called the Rosa Bonheur – our current favorite place to have refreshments on the Seine.  Tom loves the ice cream served there.  The Rosa is a cheerful and very casual place, harkening back to the era when there were guinguettes along the river.

View from our table on the Rosa Bonheur.

From our high-top table with a great view in the bow, we sat, relaxed, and discussed the various pieces of debris that floated past.  There is far more debris than usual, and my guess is that this is also due to the flooding months ago – much debris was probably shoved up into storm sewers, and is still breaking loose.  There was a vehicle wheel, with tire inflated so it floated nicely.  There was a large dead bird – some kind of raptor.  Bottles of many types and sizes bobbed along.  So did someone’s nice black nylon gym bag.  The variety made for fun conversation.  I guess we’re easy to entertain.

Inside the Rosa Bonheur.

We decided to walk back through the 7^th arrondissement, skirting around the National Assembly (legislature) building and down through the stately Place du Palais Bourbon and a bit farther until we reached the rue Saint Dominique – the best shopping street in the 7^th.

When we finally reached our shopping street in the 15^th, the rue du Commerce, we were amazed at the throngs of people.  There seemed to be more people here, by far, strolling along this almost-narrow street, than there were walking along the broad banks of the Seine.

Real shoppers never quit.  Good for them.

After resting for a little while in the apartment, we dressed for dinner at Le Pario, chef Eduardo Jacinto’s restaurant near the end of the Avenue Emile Zola – in the very spot where we used to dine at Oh! Duo.  (The name, "Le Pario," results from combining Paris and Rio.  The chef is originally from Brazil.)

Tom's veal chop at Le Pario.

The Avenue is looking good, as the honey locust trees have grown and matured.  We remember them when they were just skinny little tykes, planted after a major windstorm had damaged trees throughout the city (1999 and/or 2004).

We were shocked, along the way, to discover that the great hardware store, Zola Color, is now gone!  Some big tech thing called Boulanger is moving into that space on the Place Charles Michels.

Dinner was fabulous – I had a crab salad for a starter, followed by a shrimp dish that included sweet potato gnocchi.  Tom had a thick, pistachio-encusted veal chop accompanied by a dish full of tiny round potatoes, followed by profiteroles drowned in sinfully rich dark chocolate sauce.  Service was well-intended, but slightly off.

We’ll be back to Le Pario – I think it is one of the few of our favorite restaurants that actually stay open through the entire month of August.

Paris, most certainly

August 6, 2016 -- The Avenue de la Bourdonnais is situated perfectly to offer the quintessential Paris to anyone who strolls along its broad expanse from the Seine down through the seventh arrondissement to the École Militaire. 

The Dome brasserie on the Avenue de la Bourdonnais

First, Tom wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, so we walked up the rue du Commerce to the Champ de Mars where, we discovered, the grassy lawn is being restored in three stages.  From now through the end of the year, sections of the park are being fenced off and re-seeded.  Wood chips were evidently put down on the “lawn” for the Bastille Day fireworks, probably because the lawn had turned to mud from the excessive rains earlier in the summer.  The wood chips are not beautiful, but the Eiffel Tower is still as lovely as ever.

The wood chips still cover the section of the Champ near the Peace Pavilion, and the re-seeding has commenced farther up the Champ, toward the Eiffel Tower.  Also at that end, by the right foot of the Tower, the seventh arrondissement was having its annual fair.  The first booth we saw was occupied by the same Native American musicians we saw at this fair last year. 

We were impressed by their talented playing of handmade woodwind instruments, and so we bought their Sacred Spirit CD.  As we walked on by all the booths offering various kinds of colorful country cuisine, our stomachs rumbled.

Straw sculptures on the Champ de Mars

Straw sculptures here and there at the fair added a comical “country” touch to the festive scene. 

At the foot of the Tower, we veered off to the right to the Avenue de la Bourdonnais.  The David Martinot florist shop was closed for vacation, but we stopped to admire shell sculptures in the shop’s windows.  Surely Sanibel Shellcrafters have made something like these before?  But this is the first time we saw such roses made into eggs using little clamshells.

Shell sculpture at the David Martinot florist shop.

We passed by the foie gras restaurant called Au Petit Sud-Ouest noting that the toasters are still there, amusingly lined up on the little tables along the sidewalk, and that the menu prices seem to have been reduced. 

The Avenue de la Bourdonnais sports many attractive brasseries on various corners, and it also has more than its share of colorful, ubiquitous souvenir shops.  But it does offer some unique shops as well, like a place that has large hams hanging in the front window.  I am not satisfied with the ham in plastic packets sold at the grocery here, so I said to Tom, “Let’s go into this shop finally, and buy some good ham.”

The ham shop is adorable, in a shabby, old-fashioned way. Red-and-white plaid tablecloths adorn three bright green tables on the sidewalk in front of the shop, which is run by a couple of cute older people.  

The Parma ham shop on the Avenue de la Bourdonnais.

Upon entering, we realized that this is an Italian ham shop!  So we bought a little Parma ham and some Salame Felino.  As the lady was slicing, weighing, and wrapping the ham and salami for us, her husband chattered incessantly, in Italian, with his buddy who had just wandered into the shop after us.  He was saying something about “the Americans,” but we don’t know what.  I looked around while we waited.  This shop, it seems, is THE place to buy authentic Italian cheeses, which are hard to find in Parisian groceries or fromageries.

The prices were reasonable.

We thanked the lady as we left the shop, and we didn’t go far before we stopped, opened the butcher-paper packages, and sampled the ham and salami.  Both were delicious.  We were so happy that we finally stopped in this place; we knew we could postpone no longer.  Soon, that shop will disappear, I’m sure.

We do love French cheeses, too.  We just discovered how much we like Saint Marcellin.  We had stopped in the Thomas fromagerie on our first day (Thursday) to buy our usual favorite, Salers, and I saw the small rounds of Saint Marcellin.  On a whim, we bought one. I’d read about Saint Marcellin in an Alan Furst novel that I recently finished, so I wanted to try it.  We both enjoyed that first little round so much on Thursday evening, that we decided to return to the this fromagerie on the rue du Commerce as we ambled back from our walk along the Avenue. 

Then we crossed the street to buy a superb, warm baguette from the Maison Kayser bakery. 

After rejuvenating at the apartment, we went out again in the evening to dine at my favorite Parisian restaurant, L’Alchimie.  I’d made a reservation online, and I’m so glad I did:  this was Chef Eric Rogoff’s last evening before he goes on vacation for a couple weeks.

Spicy duck and roasted Daikon at L'Alchimie.

He made us a fine dinner last night.  We started by sharing a slice of foie gras terrine, which was served with a melon and port gelée.  Then Tom had duck with spicy honey and a spicy confit of daikon (radis blanc).  I ordered the sea bass, which came atop a pool of broth and softly cooked fennel with a few clams.

Tom’s dessert was an apricot tart with a scoop of peach sorbet. 

All of this was wonderfully delicious, as dinner always is at L’Alchimie, in our experience.  We wished Chef Rogoff a very happy vacation, and told him we’d be back there to dine toward the end of the month.

Sea bass with soft fennel and clams, in broth, at L'Alchimie.

That was our first dinner in Paris this summer.  We’re a month late in arriving, but better late than never.  The previous evening, we were just too fatigued with jet lag to go out.  We did, however, snack elegantly on cheese from the fromagerie, fruit from the FranPrix grocery, and an organic baguette from the bakery on the rue Fondary.

On our street, we were surprised to see that the discount grocery that we’ve relied on for years is gone.  It is now a Carrefour City grocery, and was mysteriously closed when it should have been open on Thursday.  We tried again on Friday and voila, it was open.  It is all brand new inside, and is a far more modern and elegant store than the discount Dia had been.  Going to Dia, in fact, had been a little like going to a third world country, but the produce could be really good, at excellent prices.  Carrefour City will not be as cheap, but it is certainly cleaner, brighter, and better managed.  Change happens.

Apricot tart with peach sorbet, glass of port, at L'Alchimie.

Another, mostly pleasant change we experienced on Thursday.  The taxi rides from the airport to the city (and vice versa) are now charged at one flat rate.  From Charles de Gaulle airport to the Left Bank is 55 euros – a price we haven’t seen for some years.  The route the driver chose through the right bank and then over the Pont Alexandre III (my favorite bridge!) could not have been better; we were savoring the sights as we peered through the windows in our slightly foggy, jet-lagged state.

We’re happy to be here -- so happy to be here at last, in what we initially called “the summer of uncertainty.”

Paris, most certainly

August 6, 2016 -- The Avenue de la Bourdonnais is situated perfectly to offer the quintessential Paris to anyone who strolls along its broad expanse from the Seine down through the seventh arrondissement to the École Militaire. 

The Dome brasserie on the Avenue de la Bourdonnais

First, Tom wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, so we walked up the rue du Commerce to the Champ de Mars where, we discovered, the grassy lawn is being restored in three stages.  From now through the end of the year, sections of the park are being fenced off and re-seeded.  Wood chips were evidently put down on the “lawn” for the Bastille Day fireworks, probably because the lawn had turned to mud from the excessive rains earlier in the summer.  The wood chips are not beautiful, but the Eiffel Tower is still as lovely as ever.

The wood chips still cover the section of the Champ near the Peace Pavilion, and the re-seeding has commenced farther up the Champ, toward the Eiffel Tower.  Also at that end, by the right foot of the Tower, the seventh arrondissement was having its annual fair.  The first booth we saw was occupied by the same Native American musicians we saw at this fair last year. 

We were impressed by their talented playing of handmade woodwind instruments, and so we bought their Sacred Spirit CD.  As we walked on by all the booths offering various kinds of colorful country cuisine, our stomachs rumbled.

Straw sculptures on the Champ de Mars

Straw sculptures here and there at the fair added a comical “country” touch to the festive scene. 

At the foot of the Tower, we veered off to the right to the Avenue de la Bourdonnais.  The David Martinot florist shop was closed for vacation, but we stopped to admire shell sculptures in the shop’s windows.  Surely Sanibel Shellcrafters have made something like these before?  But this is the first time we saw such roses made into eggs using little clamshells.

Shell sculpture at the David Martinot florist shop.

We passed by the foie gras restaurant called Au Petit Sud-Ouest noting that the toasters are still there, amusingly lined up on the little tables along the sidewalk, and that the menu prices seem to have been reduced. 

The Avenue de la Bourdonnais sports many attractive brasseries on various corners, and it also has more than its share of colorful, ubiquitous souvenir shops.  But it does offer some unique shops as well, like a place that has large hams hanging in the front window.  I am not satisfied with the ham in plastic packets sold at the grocery here, so I said to Tom, “Let’s go into this shop finally, and buy some good ham.”

The ham shop is adorable, in a shabby, old-fashioned way. Red-and-white plaid tablecloths adorn three bright green tables on the sidewalk in front of the shop, which is run by a couple of cute older people.  

The Parma ham shop on the Avenue de la Bourdonnais.

Upon entering, we realized that this is an Italian ham shop!  So we bought a little Parma ham and some Salame Felino.  As the lady was slicing, weighing, and wrapping the ham and salami for us, her husband chattered incessantly, in Italian, with his buddy who had just wandered into the shop after us.  He was saying something about “the Americans,” but we don’t know what.  I looked around while we waited.  This shop, it seems, is THE place to buy authentic Italian cheeses, which are hard to find in Parisian groceries or fromageries.

The prices were reasonable.

We thanked the lady as we left the shop, and we didn’t go far before we stopped, opened the butcher-paper packages, and sampled the ham and salami.  Both were delicious.  We were so happy that we finally stopped in this place; we knew we could postpone no longer.  Soon, that shop will disappear, I’m sure.

We do love French cheeses, too.  We just discovered how much we like Saint Marcellin.  We had stopped in the Thomas fromagerie on our first day (Thursday) to buy our usual favorite, Salers, and I saw the small rounds of Saint Marcellin.  On a whim, we bought one. I’d read about Saint Marcellin in an Alan Furst novel that I recently finished, so I wanted to try it.  We both enjoyed that first little round so much on Thursday evening, that we decided to return to the this fromagerie on the rue du Commerce as we ambled back from our walk along the Avenue. 

Then we crossed the street to buy a superb, warm baguette from the Maison Kayser bakery. 

After rejuvenating at the apartment, we went out again in the evening to dine at my favorite Parisian restaurant, L’Alchimie.  I’d made a reservation online, and I’m so glad I did:  this was Chef Eric Rogoff’s last evening before he goes on vacation for a couple weeks.

Spicy duck and roasted Daikon at L'Alchimie.

He made us a fine dinner last night.  We started by sharing a slice of foie gras terrine, which was served with a melon and port gelée.  Then Tom had duck with spicy honey and a spicy confit of daikon (radis blanc).  I ordered the sea bass, which came atop a pool of broth and softly cooked fennel with a few clams.

Tom’s dessert was an apricot tart with a scoop of peach sorbet. 

All of this was wonderfully delicious, as dinner always is at L’Alchimie, in our experience.  We wished Chef Rogoff a very happy vacation, and told him we’d be back there to dine toward the end of the month.

Sea bass with soft fennel and clams, in broth, at L'Alchimie.

That was our first dinner in Paris this summer.  We’re a month late in arriving, but better late than never.  The previous evening, we were just too fatigued with jet lag to go out.  We did, however, snack elegantly on cheese from the fromagerie, fruit from the FranPrix grocery, and an organic baguette from the bakery on the rue Fondary.

On our street, we were surprised to see that the discount grocery that we’ve relied on for years is gone.  It is now a Carrefour City grocery, and was mysteriously closed when it should have been open on Thursday.  We tried again on Friday and voila, it was open.  It is all brand new inside, and is a far more modern and elegant store than the discount Dia had been.  Going to Dia, in fact, had been a little like going to a third world country, but the produce could be really good, at excellent prices.  Carrefour City will not be as cheap, but it is certainly cleaner, brighter, and better managed.  Change happens.

Apricot tart with peach sorbet, glass of port, at L'Alchimie.

Another, mostly pleasant change we experienced on Thursday.  The taxi rides from the airport to the city (and vice versa) are now charged at one flat rate.  From Charles de Gaulle airport to the Left Bank is 55 euros – a price we haven’t seen for some years.  The route the driver chose through the right bank and then over the Pont Alexandre III (my favorite bridge!) could not have been better; we were savoring the sights as we peered through the windows in our slightly foggy, jet-lagged state.

We’re happy to be here -- so happy to be here at last, in what we initially called “the summer of uncertainty.”