Paris Journal 2008
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The other day, just as we started walking down the street to go to the apartment in the 6th to meet up with Carol and Ron, we were stopped by Reza, the man that our landlord calls “the old Iranian plumber.” Reza isn’t that old – I’d say perhaps mid-70s. He is trim and handsome, and he has two very fine white Persian cats who sit in the display window of his plumbing shop. He seems to us to be someone who was something much more than a plumber when he lived in Iran, which was a long time ago. We’re guessing that he left Iran in 1979 or so, around the time that Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi left. Reza the “old Iranian plumber” dresses very well. Even when he is wearing blue jeans, he puts his outfits together with flair. In the evenings, he often dresses up for dinner. That’s the way he was when he stopped us. While we don’t dress up quite the way Reza does, we also don’t dress like American tourists. That evening, I was wearing black Chico’s Traveler’s Collection clothes, and Tom was wearing his black blazer over one of his standard black T-shirts. Reza likes Tom’s jacket. Reza, who was wearing a light beige Givenchy summer suit with a beautiful aubergine dress shirt, stopped us to say (in French, of course) “Ah, see, an Iranian man and an American man who are more elegant that the French men!” He went on to explain that Tom was modeling the winter collection (black), and he was modeling the summer collection. Reza was effusive, as he often is after Happy Hour. (He is much, much more subdued if we happen to see him in the morning.) He and Tom discussed various designers of men’s clothing. They didn’t agree on all of them. Tom likes Armani suits, for example, and Reza does not like any of the Italian designers. I told Reza that I loved the aubergine color of his shirt. He was very pleased with the compliment. He said the aubergine complements his tan complexion. He’s right. Reza likes us, but he does not like all Americans. We became aware of this some years ago when the hot water heater in the apartment needed serious repair. We stopped in Reza’s shop, and waited while the radio played opera – Pavarotti, I believe. When the music and Reza’s dream state ended, we explained the situation. He knows we are in our landlord’s apartment, and he had just overhauled the hot water heating system there the previous Spring. The fact that it wasn’t working was very bad news to him. But before we could get to the business at hand, he asked us, to confirm, if we were Americans. We answered yes. He frowned. He said something about George Bush. At the time, you must understand, we were at our wits’ end with worry about Crystal, our daughter-in-law at the time, who was in Iraq on a tour of duty with the National Guard. This was at the beginning of the Iraq war. Her tour had been extended several times, she was living in horrible conditions, and her unit had been supplied with very poor and nonfunctional equipment. I said, “I DETEST George Bush,” with emphasis, and in French. Reza’s face brightened into a smile. Tom elaborated upon this opinion of ours. Reza became almost enthusiastic about helping us with the hot water heater. He said he’d be at the apartment in two hours. He showed up on time, fixed the heater, lectured us about not touching any of the dials, showed us how to properly light the pilot should it go out, and then refused to charge us anything for the service call. Last night, we just had a quiet stroll down through the 15th, and we found that the Bistro d’Andre is now open (but it was too early for dinner). We’ll try that place soon – it looks promising. We strolled back up to our neighborhood, stopped at the Monop (fast, small Monoprix grocery) for a few supplies, and then went to the Brasserie Tour Eiffel for dinner because the special of the day was barbequed pork ribs. We are recognized there now. We had a very nice, small, casual dinner, and were home before 8:30PM! This left me plenty of time to watch several episodes of ER on French national television. This very popular show is dubbed in French and televised here with almost no commercials. Here, they call it “Urgences.” French subtitles are available for the hearing impaired. To improve my French listening comprehension, I watch this show, with its rapid-fire dialog, and I turn on the subtitles so I can see what I’m hearing. The French love this show so much that it received higher ratings even than the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. In all other big EU countries, the opening ceremonies were number 1. Go figure. |
Saturday, August 23, 2008
The St. Eustache church, as seen from one of the
entrances to Les Halles.
Lawns in Paris parks are given periodic periods of
“repose.” This means you stay off the
grass when you see this sign.
The now-famous cheap rental bicycles in Paris, called “Velib’,” are placed in cages like this
when they need maintenance. The
maintenance is done on a barge that goes up and down the Seine.
The Louvre. |
