a summer day in Paris
My last morning in Amsterdam, I was hoping to walk around the old city on the way to the train station, but it was raining, so, after a restless night, I had a quiet morning before the midday train to Paris. So smooth, so easy, 3 1/2 hours through mostly green farmland. Many wind turbines, although just as we were leaving Holland, there was one real windmill.
Arrival in Paris one minute early, and then the fun began, looking for the right metro, a long walk through a tunnel under the Gare du Nord along with half the people in Paris, to get the metro to Belleville. But I got there, then got lost finding the apartment, but got there. Lynn, Denis and I were reunited. It’s a lovely bright apartment with just a few problems, the greatest being that Lynn rented it because, although Belleville is quite far northeast from the centre of Paris, there’s a great metro line, the #2, that goes everywhere from here. When she arrived, however, she learned that the #2 line is being shut down from tomorrow till next Friday, that is, our entire stay here.
However. There are other metro lines, we’ll just have to figure it out. Paris is preparing for the Olympics and there’s work going on everywhere.
Madame made us a delicious dinner followed, of course, by the cheese platter, and the three of us jabbered, as we do, as we have been doing for many decades. Dear dear old friends.
Today, we went to L’Ebauchoir, a good restaurant Lynn and I discovered by chance more than ten years ago and have since recommended to many friends who’ve adopted it too, including my neighbour Monique and friend Eleanor. The meal was, as always, superb, appreciated even by M. Blin, who is shall we say hard to please. French, don’t you know. But he enjoyed it too. And then Monsieur set off back to Montpellier, and Lynn and I began our solo adventure together. We walked — nearly 8 kms. according to her phone — around Bastille, a long sit in the sun at the Place des Vosges, meandered across the river, and there was Our Lady, battered, held up by a million scaffolds, but as beautiful as ever. They’ve put a viewing platform in front of her, a staircase to nowhere like in Times Square, jammed with people just looking at her over the hoardings that enclose her now.
We made our way through the 5th to my hotel, le Port Royal, to pick up the suitcase I’d left there, and then to figure out how to get clear across the city to home. Ah, the 91 bus would take us nearly there, perfect. We hopped on, and six minutes later were told for a reason we didn’t understand that the ride was over. “That’s France,” Madame said, and standing on the sidewalk, phone in hand, she figured out another route. We got one metro, transferred to another, and finally got home, nearly 15,000 steps later. We are on our computers, will eat leftovers with not much wine because we shared a bottle at lunch.
This is a new view of Paris, up here. This apartment is extremely reasonable and has a fine kitchen where Madame can cook, so we will hardly eat out. She is, of course, after five French children and over fifty years in France, a terrific cook.
Tomorrow and Monday, no definite plan, depends on the weather. We are so compatible, my friend and I, who met outside a modern French literature class at Carleton University in September 1967. I was at her wedding to Denis in northern France in October 1971. She was at my wedding party — where Anna was the star guest — in August 1980. What a gift this lifelong friendship is. I told her today she’s the most positive person I’ve ever met. This is not something she can say to me, but I guess I have my qualities.
Pictures: Last view of Holland, from the train. After the meal — mellow. La Place des Vosges — it was 27 degrees today! Bizarre, won’t last, but le tout Paris was out. L’Hotel du Sens, built in the Middle Ages, with its lovely patterned gardens. Notre Dame’s scaffolding from behind, and the view from the front. The cafés were packed; this is a city that understands and honours street life.
More anon. Stay tuned.
Oh, one more thing: I have a cold. Don’t know how that happened, but yes, sneezing, runny nose, sore throat. C’est la vie. My friend never gets sick, and I get sick all the time. More positivity, please!
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