Paris Journal 2008
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After working at the computers all day, Tom and I went out walking in the neighborhood yesterday evening. Almost everything is closed for the holiday weekend. We wandered down the rue du Theatre, wondering if the restaurant Le Bayadere would be open, but knowing it probably would not be. It wasn’t. So we ambled down the rue St. Charles, wistfully imagining that La Cour St. Charles would be open. It wasn’t. Monsieur had drawn a cartoon of himself fishing, and he posted it on the window with an explanation that he’d gone away to do nothing for several days. We studied the menu posted outside the Bistro Champêtre for a while before deciding to go in. This is a bigger restaurant, and it is a part of a chain of seven somewhat impersonal restaurants, each with a different name, scattered throughout the city. The place was full of Asians. I said it must be a tour group. Tom agreed. The Maitre d’ noticed us right away and we asked for a table for two, carefully speaking ONLY in French, not allowing him to hear us speak any English to each other. He showed us to a very nice table in the front window. Nevertheless, he gave us two English menus. The English menus have only the more expensive items on them. I turned in my chair and asked the female server, very politely, if we could have the French menus. She brought them over right away. This attracted the attention of the couple seated next to us. They were a handsome couple of Americans from Chicago who’ve been living and working in Spain for a while. Now they are vacationing through Europe before returning to live in the US again. They asked us if the English menu was an attempt to cheat us. I explained that it is only part of the whole menu, and that it omitted any mention of the lesser-fixed-price dinner option and that it omitted all the items you can order a la carte. We weren’t just being fussy about the price. The fact is, when you are in your fifties and up, it is difficult to eat four course meals all the time. It was late enough, and Tom and I each wanted just a main course. No €36 four-course dinner, thank you. When the Maitre d’ returned to take our order, he didn’t show any surprise at the fact that we had the French menus. We ordered. He left. The American couple, Rita and Amado, said they admired our ability to speak French. Of course, they speak English and Spanish. Originally from Cuba, both are well-educated forty-somethings. She’s an attorney who works for GE, and he works for CareerBuilder.com, and had been in charge of setting up and running their operations in Spain. We had a long and very interesting conversation over dinner. They had fascinating stories to tell about the bureaucracy in Spain. It makes France’s bureaucracy look like a cuddly kitten by comparison. Spain sounds like a very socialist, difficult, and beautiful country. Tom ordered the steak, which he thought would be good because it is supposedly Charolais beef, but it was very tough. I ordered a filet of Daurade, which was served meuniere-style and came with a great heap of spinach, which I love. I was very happy with my fish and spinach; this food was simple, and cooked correctly. We sat and talked with Rita and Amado for so long that Tom and I changed our minds about a second course. When the Maitre d’ came around, again with the English menus, he asked this time if we’d prefer the French and I said “Oui, s’il vous plait. Je préfére le Français.” He disappeared and reappeared quickly with the French menus. I had a small crème brulée, and Tom had the apple tarte, which was served with flaming Calvados poured over it before our eyes. I hope that was good enough to make up for the tough steak. Rita and Amado want to come back to Paris next Fall for a visit (not for work). I hope they do. This morning, just before sitting down to write for all of you, I heard a saxophone playing in the street. I opened the French doors. It was more than just a sax. But I couldn’t see the musicians. I decided to go out to buy the French newspaper so I could also find the source of the music. They played “Take Five” especially well. There they were, just at the corner of the rue du Theatre and the rue du Commerce – a sax player, a trumpet player, and a guy playing a strange instrument, the size and shape of a carton of cigarettes, painted light green, with keys like an accordian’s or a piano’s on the side, and a hole at the top that he blew into while operating the keys. I’ve never seen anything like it, but Tom says he has. I gave them some coins on the way to get the newspaper, and some more on my way home. August is a time when some people are out of work, and they have to be creative about making ends meet. These guys were doing it by making beautiful music. |
Monday, August 18, 2008
Flowers at the entrance of the Parc Saint-Lambert.
If you lose anything in Paris, try the lost and found,
called “Objets Trouves,” at 38 rue des Morillons in the 15th
arrondissement, near the Parc Georges Brassens.
People enjoying the lawn at the Parc Georges Brassens.
Door near the Parc Monceau.
Musée d’Orsay. |
