Paris Journal 2013 – Barbara Joy Cooley                  Home: barbarajoycooley.com

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She walked into Au Chien Qui Fume and went straight to the end of the bar.  She was a sight to see.

 

Stylishly coiffed in a Vidal Sassoon sort of way, the lady’s hair fell right back into place after being buffeted about by the gusty wind that swept the streets outside.  She wore expensive mary-jane low-heeled pumps in a light taupe color.  They perfectly matched her knee-length straight skirt. 

 

Over her white silk blouse, she wore a white cardigan that hung more like a jacket than a sweater.  It had an open, lacy-but-modern design.  She did not carry a handbag, but instead, gripped her keys in her hand.

 

She smiled as she looked over the bar.  She could barely look over the bar.  She was tiny; not just short, but thin and small-boned.

 

The bartender appeared, and she chatted with him briefly, pleasantly.  She took one of the Journal du Dimanche newspapers from the Lucite stand at the end of the bar.  After she and the bartender exchanged a few more pleasantries, she turned, and made her way slowly out the door.

 

Slowly, because she had a tremor, and she used a cane for support and steadiness.  Her thick hair, you see, was silver, and her pale skin was slightly wrinkled.

 

We decided that she had to be 100 years old.  I was concerned, as I saw her move slowly to the crosswalk over the wide and busy boulevard du Montparnasse.  Would she make it across in time, before the traffic started zooming again? 

 

Thank heavens it is a boulevard.  There is a place to stand safely in the middle, if you are a pedestrian who did not make it all the way across before the light changed.

 

She made it slowly, and safely, to the middle.  There she stood and waited for the light to change in her favor again.  She then made it to the other side.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

 

She paused on the sidewalk, as if looking at the buildings there.  Perhaps she was just catching her breath.  She was trying to look like this was a normal, small errand in her day, but I think it was a major outing, a big effort.

 

After a minute or two, she moved across the wide sidewalk to the door of 1940s or 1950s building that was sandwiched between two older Haussmannian buildings.  She entered the door code, and managed to push the door open.

 

I felt better.  She was safely inside her building, and in a “newer” building like that, surely there would be an elevator to take her up to her apartment.

 

She’s somebody’s mother/aunt/sister/cousin, I thought as we waited for our refreshments to arrive at our table.  Should she be out there on her own, on the boulevard du Montparnasse?  She was so frail, it just didn’t seem right.  Someone should have been with her.  But maybe being alone is her choice.  I don’t know.

 

Maybe she takes her meals at the Smoking Dog (Au Chien Qui Fume), or at the little bistro across the street, right next to her building.  I had not seen her give the bartender any coins for the newspaper, so perhaps she has an account there.  I hope so.  I hope somebody checks on her well-being regularly.

 

Tom and I had just visited the Musée Bourdelle.  It was about 5:30PM, and Tom was ready for refreshments.  From the rue Antoine Bourdelle, we walked to the grand boulevard du Montparnasse.  There was Au Chien Qui Fume, which we’d passed many times.  Now was the time to try it.

 

We chose a table inside, near the open French doors.  Tom ordered sparkling water, coffee, and a peach-almond cream tart.  I ordered a glass of rosé, the vin du moment, featured at the top of the blackboard.

 

We looked up and admired the Lalique glass light fixtures overhead.  We’re both fans of Lalique glass.

 

Looking over the railing by our table, I had a good view of the attractive bar, where I saw the stylish old lady.

 

The peach tart was delicious.  We’ll have to try dining at the smoking dog place sometime.

 

The sculptures that Antoine Bourdelle created were monumental, and at least 20 years ahead of his time.  His style is one I associate with the 1930s and 40s, not the 1900s and 1910s.  We appreciated his work much more during this visit than we had when we saw this museum years ago. 

 

The Great Hall of the museum, where the most monumental works are displayed, was awesome.  I didn’t think I could capture the magnificence of the works in there with a camera, so I didn’t try.  I did take a few photos when we were in one of the museums three gardens, and on the terrace overlooking that garden.  (Note: flash photography is not allowed in the museum.)

 

Photos are allowed, but they must be “for personal use only.” I think that may mean I cannot share them with you here in this journal.  Sorry about that.  But you can see some of the sculptures in photos on the museum web site.

 

The museum is not easy to find.  Use your GPS.  What’s great about the location is that this is where Antoine Bourdelle actually worked.

 

It took us a full 45 minutes to walk to the museum, which is in the 15th arrondissement.  We weren’t even walking the full breadth of the 15th as we made our way from the apartment to the museum.  This illustrates the fact that the 15th is one of the the largest arrondissements of Paris, geographically.  I used to believe it was the largest, but Wikipedia points out that the largest in land area is the 16th. 

 

However, that is including the enormous Bois de Boulogne as part of the 16th arrondissement.  If you take away the Bois, the 16th is not the largest.  The same is true of the 12th arrondissement; without the Bois de Vincennes, the 12th is not so large.

 

Not counting either Bois, the 15th is the largest arrondissement, geographically.

 

The 15th  is unquestionably the largest arrondissement in terms of population, with a whopping 225,362 people.  That’s down from a peak of 250,551 in 1962.  It is a city unto itself.

 

After the crazy, thick crowds of tourists that we experienced the day before in the Marais and near Notre Dame, we relished the relative calm of the 15th yesterday.  We took a slightly longer route for the walk “home,” down the boulevard du Montparnasse, across the rue de Sevres, and along the boulevard Garibaldi to the neighborhood that was once the village of Grenelle, “our” neighborhood.

 

It isn’t as ritzy as the 16th arrondissement, but that’s a good thing.  The 15th has a lot of character and texture.  It is relatively safe (much more so than the 19th or 20th), and is very real – not touristy.  Many jobs and businesses are located in the 15th.  When you do hear English spoken here, you mustn’t assume that the speakers are tourists.  They may very well be foreigners who are working in Paris for a while.  Or foreigners who are living in Paris for a while, comme nous.

 

We leave this arrondissement in a dozen days from now, so we plan to make the most of it while we are here.  There’s no place like “home.”

 

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Monday, August 19, 2013

 

Part of the interior of Au Chien Qui Fume, at the corner of the rue du Cherche-Midi and the boulevard du Montparnasse.

 

Lalique glass light fixture in Au Chien Qui Fume.

 

Wood carvings in the church of Saint Gervais.

 

 

 

In the nave of the church of Saint Gervais, small wooden benches are used instead of chairs or pews.

 

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