On the Streets of Paris

Sorry for the delay in getting this post out. My computer was NOT getting along with the internet service provider in Paris and since I've been home I have been battling the most pernicious case of jet lag I've ever had the misery to deal with. Add jet lag's habit of making me fall asleep at the drop of a hat any time of day, anywhere I am at that moment to the miserable heat wave we've been enduring here in SoCal (No shit? 95-degrees at eight in the morning AND nine o'clock at night? And triple digits in between??) and to be perfectly honest, I just haven't felt like sitting down and banging one of these posts out. However, last night I actually slept through the night for the first time since being home and the temperature is currently a relatively comfortable 81-degrees (at 7:30 in the evening), so here I am doing my journalistic duty. I'll do my best to make it worth the wait.

First things first. I lied. We did NOT go to Notre Dame (exactly) and the Louvre on day two. We met up with a friend of Greg's, had breakfast at a nice little sidewalk cafe, afterwards went for a long walk along the Seine, passing Notre Dame and finished up with an afternoon in the Jardin du Luxembourg (Luxembourg Gardens). So, now that we have THAT all cleared up...

Greg has a childhood friend named James who is a jazz guitarist that has lived in Paris for decades. He and Greg had not been in touch since high school, but Greg reached out to him in advance of our trip and he agreed to meet up with us and show us around a little. James called us at eight o'clock in the morning on our second day in Paris and told us to take the metro to Odeon, a neighborhood on the edge of the Latin Quarter. Shortly after we came up out of the station James came pedaling up on one of the ubiquitous "Velib" bikes you can rent throughout the city. More on that in a later post. After all the introductions were made, James led us into the Latin Quarter for breakfast and some time to visit and get acquainted.

Greg and James playing catch-up.

James is an incredibly interesting guy, as well as being a great tour guide. I will not try to tell his life's story in any detail as I will surely screw it up, but it goes roughly like this: Guitarist since childhood, got a music degree somewhere (I think?), joined the Coast Guard, after that moved to Spain and traveled around playing, came back to the US, met his wife, moved to Paris, played in Paris for quite a while doing the Bohemian musician thing, started having kids (two daughters), now teaches music at a middle-school (I think?) and teaches guitar to private students. A LOT of private students. On top of all that, he's one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet and very knowledgable about the history of Paris.

We walked along the streets for several blocks, past the square of St. Michel with its flocks of pigeons, a few camera draped tourists and young couples pushing strollers. We strolled down towards the Seine where you can see the bell towers and steeples of Notre Dame looming above the Ile de la Cite, one of two natural islands in the middle of the Seine. It was Sunday morning, so the streets were relatively quiet. The sidewalk cafes were already open, their tables starting to fill with hungry patrons and the shopkeepers who run the little stores and boutiques along the way were sweeping the sidewalks in front of their establishments. It was exactly how you'd imagine Paris to be on a Sunday morning.

The square of St. Michel.

Greg and James leading
the way.

The view from our breakfast table,
the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris

If you ever find yourself in Paris ordering breakfast, or any meal for that matter, allow me to offer some information to help you along. "Water" in French is "Eau", pronounced "oh". If you're from Souther California you will find this hard to believe, but the tap water in Paris is delicious. If you ask for water at a restaurant in Paris, and you don't specify tap water, they will bring you some way too expensive bottled stuff, usually sparkling. Ugh. So, if you want water, ask for a "carafe d'eau", pronounced "carafe doe" and they will bring you a bottle of tap water. Just so you know.

We sat down to eat in a little sidewalk cafe called "Le Petit Pont". We got a table right next to the sidewalk with a view of Notre Dame and the walkway along the river across the street. I had a delicious breakfast of coddled eggs with sausage and home fries. This dish was served in a way I was not expecting at all. It came to the table in a hot cast iron sauce pan with all the ingredients mixed together at the bottom. The sausage and potatoes had been cooked and dropped in the pan and then four eggs (whole, not scrambled) were poured over the top and it was finished, covered, in the oven. It was awesome, and not nearly as much food as it sounds like. It was served with croissants and baguette bread and cappuccino in a cup big enough to function as a jacuzzi. I wasn't too full to happily contemplate a day of walking the street and seeing the sights, but full enough to do it. Our day was off to a spectacular start. 

After a leisurely breakfast and much conversation, we decided the food had sunk into our bones enough that we could begin our journey. We headed east down Rue de la Bucherie and after a very short walk found ourselves standing in front of "Shakespeare and Company" bookstore. Shakespeare and Company was originally opened on a different site in 1919 by Sylvia Beach, a New Jersey native, and was a lending library as well as a bookstore. During the '20s, when the "Lost Generation" was in full swing, future literary giants like Hemingway, James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ezra Pound used to hang around there. It was closed during the Nazi occupation and never re-opened. In 1951, another American ex-pat named George Whitman opened a book store at the present location, only it was named "Le Mistral". This was during the days of bohemian literature, and the store again found itself being frequented by literary stars-to-be like Alan Ginsberg and William S. Burroughs. When Sylvia Beach passed away in 1964, Whitman renamed the store "Shakespeare and Company" as an homage to the original. The store's clientele over the years reads like a who's-who of beat, bohemian and counter-culture writers. The store is now run by Whitman's daughter. It is still a gathering place for writers with regular readings and workshops, as well as sleeping quarters for young writers to use while they work in the store and work on their own projects. A very interesting place with lots of history and an amazing selection of used books. Yes, I came home with a couple. How could I not? 

Shakespeare and Company today.
Yeah, I know. The picture is a little blurry. My bad.

If you know me at all, you know bookstores are my kryptonite. I didn't have time to do any real shopping this day, but I made it back a few days later and got lost inside for a good hour. If you like bookstores like I do, set aside a decent amount of time to peruse the nooks and crannies in this place. It is amazing, and you'll be in Paris for chrissake!!

After a too brief spin through the bookstore, we ambled eastward a short way and crossed over one of the many bridges in the area onto the Ile de la Cite, where Notre Dame sits. The weather was perfect the whole time we were there so the walking was quite pleasant. At this point the streets were getting busy, but somehow the added hustle and bustle made the place seem cozier. It was a beautiful day. 

Looking west along the Seine.

Notre Dame is considered to be a fine example of French Gothic architecture. It is very ornate and it is massive. Dark. Fortress-like. For me, the overall impression was one of foreboding and gloom. But that's just me. It is not an uplifting, beautiful building like you would expect from a place of worship. It looks like a place you'd be brought to when you're in big, big trouble. During a thunderstorm the place would be downright frightening. 

North Rose Window.

North side of Cathedral.

The lines to get inside on this morning were too long to endure so we decided to come back on a weekday when we theorized it would be less crowded. After walking around the Cathedral we continued on our walk along the Seine towards the Louvre and back to where our morning began outside the train station in Odeon. Quasimodo must have been hanging out inside because I did not see any hunchbacks scurrying around the grounds.

Sights along the way...

River Seine

Local enjoying the day.

City Hall

Debby Harry was interviewed the first time Blondie played in Paris, and she was asked how she liked the city. Her response (and I'm paraphrasing) was something to the effect of, "I like it a lot. All these old buildings look like dusty wedding cakes". I see her point. Beautiful, old, dusty wedding cakes. 

"Love locks". I had never heard of such a thing, but my wife had. A love lock is when two sweethearts inscribe their names or initials on a lock, attach it some public structure (bridge, fence, gate, whatever) and then throw away the key to symbolize their unbreakable love. Barf. I know. As a guy it all seems rather silly and sappy, but girls love that stuff, so guess what Dorry and I did in Paris? Yup...

Yes, those are locks.

Railing have been known to collapse under the weight of the locks. Seriously.

Awwwww... 

Our last stop of the day was the Jardin du Luxembourg, or as we Yanks would say, Luxembourg Gardens. In 1611, Marie de Medici, the widow of Henry IV, decided to build a palace in Paris. She bought the Hotel Luxembourg and began building. Over the course of a couple of decades she purchased more land surrounding the palace and created the gardens that are there to this day. It's a very beautiful park with statues on the promenade around the basin directly behind the palace, and many fountains and statues tucked back in amongst the foliage. It's a very peaceful place to walk and there are many places to sit and contemplate the garden while enjoying the view, and you can even get an ice cream or coffee at the little snack bar there. 

Luxembourg Palace

The Medici Fountain

l'Acteur Grec (The Greek Actor) by Arthur Bourgeois

One of the many walking paths in the garden

After spending a couple of hours in the park we headed back to the apartment we were renting in the neighborhood of Boulogne. One of the best things about Paris is the fact that their underground train system is so simple a ten-year old could figure it out. Once you've ridden the trains and familiarized yourself with the maps and the way the trains run, you can find your way around the city with complete confidence whether you speak French or not. The trains are modern, clean, relatively quiet and I don't think we ever waited more than four minutes for a train. A very easy and convenient city to get around in. 

There are a couple of other quick asides I'd like to throw in. I've already spoken to the fact that the quality of the food here is superior to ours. The wine. Need I go on? You can buy a bottle of wine at the market for €2.00 (about $2.50) that you'd pay $40 for back home. Anything bakery related; baguettes, croissants, macaroons, cookies, crepes...all off the charts delicious. Believe it or not, the pizza here rivals anything I've ever had in NYC. And last but not least...

Cuban Cohiba

A nice dinner, a glass or three of some lovely red wine and a Cuban cigar after a day of seeing the sights with two of our closest friends in the City of Light. Does it get any better than that?

I hope you've enjoyed this latest installment of AdoAfield. There will be more to come from this trip. I will try not to let so much time go by before I get the next one out. 

Until next time....

Ado