Paris Journal 2011 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

Photos and thoughts about Paris

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Never forget that boring can be a good thing. I often remind myself of that. But I need little reminding when I recall some of the worst events that have touched our lives. I’m never bored. Dull days – days when nothing exciting happens – can be good. Dull, productive days keep life going along smoothly. Tom is working hard all day every day until about 3PM or so on the latest edition of one of his college textbooks. The New York publisher’s extraordinarily competent young editor now assigned to his books is sending him tasks to complete very regularly, as the book goes into production. Sitting around at the computers all day can be seen as boring, and I’m sure it is nothing you want to read about, but the need to do this work is a good thing – it means the textbook sales are going along well. Besides, after our hectic high season (winter and early spring) every year, we need this boring time, summer in Paris. So these days, our adventures do not begin until after 3PM. We try to keep our adventures a little on the dull side, too – no bungie jumping, no sky diving, no more rock climbing, none of that. Tom won’t stand for me having a motorcycle, either. We even think that riding a bicycle through the streets of Paris is too dangerous. And you won’t catch us out on the streets of Paris at midnight, no matter what movies are popular at the moment. Reality is, after midnight is when bad things happen out there. If we need “excitement,” we can always walk up to the area under the Eiffel Tower, by the Pont d’Iena, and the Trocadero, where the crowds are, to see what’s happening. Last time we were there, when I photographed the Gypsy girls receiving their scam instructions for the day, we also saw the tuk tuks. Tuk tuks are motorcycle taxicabs. These aren’t ordinary motorcycles, but rather three-wheeled motorized tricycles that have a bit of a body, including a back seat, windshield, etc. They’re common in cities like Bangkok and Bombay, but they only recently arrived in Paris. They aren’t cheap. Fares are charged at a rate of 20 to 60 euros PER PERSON, depending on the duration and distance travelled. There aren’t many places where they are allowed to line up and pick up customers. One of them is there, at the base of the tower, on the Quai Branly. There are also places for them at the Tuileries, and in front of Notre Dame. One of the tuk tuk drivers had a sign, in English, announcing that he could take you anywhere in Paris. So an American man asked if he could take him around in the Champ de Mars. “No!” the driver responded. “I cannot go there!” So of course they cannot go everywhere. They also have a problem with the police, who really didn’t know what to do with them at first, because they didn’t fall into any existing class, like “taxicab,” under the regulations. The newspaper Le Parisien reports that at least six businesses and numerous independents (some clandestine) operate the tuk tuks. One of the drivers is quoted as claiming that the demand is there, that both tourists and Parisians “adore” the tuk tuks. I have no opinion, except that the fares seem to be way too high. Compare them to the cycle-taxis, for example. These vélo-taxis are much less expensive. Each one charges 2 euros, then 2 euros per kilometer for routes within central Paris. I think most of the vélo-taxis are also three-wheelers. Some are assisted by a small electric motor. They’ve been around in Paris for about 5 years now, operated by a company called Cyclobulle. The French train company, SNCF, has an affiliated company called “Gares et connexions” to test using the vélo-taxis to help customers make the connections between different train stations in Lyon. Now they’re ready to put into place a “vélo-calèches” network to do the same thing with six Parisian train stations. This business’s tricycles are authorized only to take clients from the squares in front of the stations. We haven’t had the need to take a taxi since we arrived in Paris on July 4, when we had to use one to get to the apartment. Next time we need one will probably be when we move from one apartment to the other, and I just don’t see how a tuk tuk or a velo-taxi would be able to handle all the luggage we’ll have then. In the meantime, we just walk everywhere. And if we tire of walking, we take the metro home once in a while. We walked to dinner last night, as usual. I reminded Tom that it was Tuesday, and he said, “I know what I want! Travers de porc!” He decided that going to La Gitane for the Tuesday-night spare ribs special was a great idea. First we stopped by a little early, and told our favorite server that we’d be coming back for dinner at 7:30. She smiled and said she’d save us a table just inside the window. When we arrived at 7:30, Olivier Mayeras, one of the owners of La Gitane, came up to greet us and show us to that table. He asked where we were from. “Floride,” Tom responded. Olivier replied with the typical, “Aaaahhh! Floride!” And he went right back to the servers and announced that it was Florida that we were from. Evidently, this had been a topic of speculation and discussion just before our arrival. Olivier came back to our table to tell us that he’s going to Florida soon, somewhere near Key West, for a golfing vacation this winter. He is tan, and he looks like he has just come back from his August vacation. His wife and partner, Corinne, is probably taking her vacation now. For our server’s benefit, Tom told Olivier that we are not Australians. This is a running joke we have going with the server ever since one night last summer when a group of noisy, drunk Australians disrupted the normally orderly ambiance of La Gitane. Later, a couple of women were seated on the terrace, next to us since the full-length window was open. They were evidently travel agents from Australia or New Zealand, and quite unlike last summer’s noisy, drunk Australians, they were very refined in their manners and discussion. They ordered in French, of course. They must be good travel agents because they’d found La Gitane, and chosen it for dinner. The dinner of “spare ribs” as they’re called on the French menu, was exactly what we wanted. The homemade barbeque sauce and French fries were excellent, as before. The cut of meat was quite different than before, and much larger. The French don’t use the same butchering techniques and patterns as the English and Americans do, so it is difficult to describe. Anyway, it was all delicious and satisfying. Tom had the tart of the day, which was made with small yellow plums called mirabelles. I tasted it – it was delightful. We said goodbye to the servers and Olivier and went home to another wonderfully boring evening of reading and listening to jazz. The book I finished last night is one of those crime novels about which most people think “that kind of thing never happens to real people like me.” Tom and I know better, because of bad things that have happened. Violence can visit anyone. That’s one reason why boring is good for us. We’re careful, and we don’t take unnecessary risks. Wherever you are, be safe, and enjoy life! Sign my guestbook. View my guestbook. Note: For addresses & phone numbers of restaurants in this journal, click here.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011 A late-blooming rose growing outside a luxurious apartment building near the Champ de Mars and the Eiffel Tower. A doorway in the east end of the Louvre. Statue of Cain and his sons (1906), by Paul Landowski. The travers de porc, or barbequed spare ribs, at La Gitane. Both La Gitane and La Gauloise are generous in bringing a small, round white ceramic dish of butter to go with the good bread on your table. The featured wine this summer at La Gitane has been a very pale, refreshing rosé from Corsica, at 4.80 euros per glass. ← Previous Next →