Paris Journal 2008
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About an hour and a quarter ago,
Ingrid Betancourt
checked in to the Val-de-Grace
military hospital here in Paris.
Just as we suspected, a reason for her immediate departure from Bogata
to France is to have medical care and tests.
One of the first orders of business there will be a complete blood
work-up. I did not know until I read
yesterday’s newspapers that her daughter is enrolled in film school in New
York. I wonder if she will make a
movie about her mother some day. Ingrid’s account of the
despicable way that her captors treated her is sickening. I hope she stays in France. She deserves to live the good life for a
long time now. Speaking of freedom, one of the
first things that happened after we arrived on Tuesday was that we had to set
a swallow (“hirondelle”)
free. It was hot on Tuesday, so of
course we had the kitchen window open.
There are no screens in Paris.
The big windows, which let in beaucoup light, are on the other side of
the apartment, and they were closed.
The bird, of course, flew toward the light, trying to be free,
panicing because it could not get through the closed draperies and window
(actually a French door). Tom had to free the bird because
I’m skittish around skittish creatures, especially wild ones that don’t
belong in my living space. I did
manage to open the sheer draperies, but then the bird immediately flew into
the glass, bumping its head hard, and falling to the floor, stunned. Tom grabbed the broom and opened
the French door/window, easing the bird a step up onto the balcony. We closed the doors. Tom was worried because the bird just sat
there, wings splayed out, breathing rapidly, staring blankly through the
glass. I said we should just
wait. I’ve seen this many times: birds who have flown into objects can sit
there looking half dead for hours, and then get up and fly away like nothing
happened. That is exactly what this
bird did. Fortunately, it was safe
from predators on the balcony, hidden by all the colorful flowers out there. We love to watch and listen to
the hirondelles in the evening, as they screech and play, flying in fast
circles around our building, at about the level of our apartment, six floors
up from the street. Last night, we celebrated the
Fourth of July at Le Blavet with four other Americans, Art, Joyce, Elisabeth
and Ron. We started by having our
guests visit the apartment for drinks, and a look out over the typical 15th
arrondissement neighborhood, which is very different from their neighborhood
in the 6th. Art and Joyce especially seemed
to delight in taking in this different part of Paris. And of course folks at Le Blavet
did not disappoint. In fact, I’d have
to say they excelled. The value, with
three wonderful courses for €23, is great. All of the food was beautifully
presented. Art and I had escargot and
mushroom croustades as an appetizer –these were perfectly prepared, with the
escargot cooked just right, and a rich brown sauce that perfectly
complimented all ingredients. Art
ordered a brandade de morue, a fish
dish that was unlike anything he’d ever eaten before. Several of us had apricots poached in
Cointreau with some apricot sorbet on the side for dessert. Everyone was delighted with the food and
conversation. This was a Fourth of
July we will remember. Just around the corner from Le
Blavet, on the rue des Entrepreneurs, was the location of Le Tire Bouchon,
one of our very most favorite restaurants for years. Lo and behold! It is gone!
Chef Laurent Houry and his wife Isabelle are not there! A restaurant by another name occupies the
space! If anybody knows if the
restaurant moved elsewhere, please, please, tell me! Now I must update my restaurant recommendations
at the end of this summer. |
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Today’s
photos feature the restored windows in the sacristy of the St.
Etienne-du-Mont church. These were
removed from a few Paris churches for safekeeping during World War I. Now they’ve been restored and are on
exhibit at this historic church, near the Pantheon.
Judas,
hiding his purse. |
