Paris Journal 2011 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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Monday’s copy of Le Parisien’s central section, the Journal de Paris, featured a headline article, “The vendors of illegal souvenirs chased from the Eiffel Tower.” Here’s what happened: First of all, I tripped over the French language again yesterday. When I wrote in yesterday’s entry that one of the vendors electrocuted himself in escaping from the police, I did not understand that in French, when you say “he electrocuted himself,” it does not mean that he died, necessarily. In English, of course, if we say “he electrocuted himself,” that means he died. In French, it can mean that he gave himself a bad shock or electrical burns. Such was the case with the illegal vendor I wrote about yesterday. He did not die; he has electrical burns. But “his days are not in danger,” Le Parisien reported yesterday. He’ll live and fully recover. Nevertheless, about a hundred of the illegal vendors were outraged by an untrue rumor that the guy’s state of health had deterioriated, and, spurred on by the recent rioting in London, decided to gather in a large mob and threaten the security police, the feared CRS of France. (CRS stands for Compagnie Républicaine de Sécurité, also known as the French riot police.) The police showed restraint and did not charge the mob. However, some members of the mob threw rocks at the police and a few police were injured. That happened on Sunday. Big mistake on the part of the illegal vendors. By Monday morning, the CRS received 60-some reinforcements. By the time we finished working at the computers and went out walking, we’d read about all this and were expecting to see police with helmets and shields. As soon as we turned the corner onto the rue du Commerce, we saw two motorcycle policemen zipping down the street, coming from the direction of the Champ de Mars. At the corner of avenue de la Motte Picquet and the boulevard de Grenelle, by one of the exits of the metro, an illegal fruit vendor usually sits on a crate and sells melons and such. As we walked by, a policeman stood over that vendor as he slowly packed up his fruit. Another policeman and a paddy wagon stood by, waiting. The illegal fruit vendor was being arrested. When we reached the Champ de Mars, we were stunned by its serenity. Without the 300 or so illegal vendors of Eiffel Tower trinkets, the place seemed calm and spacious. We realized that a lot of tension was gone. We felt better, not realizing that we had been feeling the tension before. Because, in addition to there being no illegal vendors of Eiffel Towers, the Gypsies were gone, too. And all of the people who watch to see where tourists put their money after buying a trinket or giving to a Gypsy were gone, too. Their associated pickpockets were gone. Without these hundreds of people, there was much more green space and we remaining people were able to relax on the Champs, enjoying the company of our friends and families, without being constantly interrupted by the hundreds of scammers and illegal vendors and their associates. Wow. What a difference a day makes. The big clearing out of the illegals must have happened early in the day yesterday. By the time we were out and about, there weren’t even that many CRS officers out on the Champ. They were probably processing all the guys they’d loaded up into many paddy wagons earlier in the day. Or more likely, by that time they were celebrating by enjoying a pint at the brasserie nearest the CRS headquarters. Anyway, we thoroughly enjoyed seeing the Champ de Mars the way it used to be – elegant, serene, relaxed. We walked through the throng under the tower, and crossed over to the edge of the Trocadéro. Then we walked along the Seine to the southwest, an unusual direction for us. Reaching the Pont de Bir Hakeim, we decided to walk down the Allée des Cygnes, but when we crossed back over to the left bank on the Pont de Grenelle, we did not feel like walking through all that annoying big construction at Beaugrenelle on the rue Linois. Instead, we turned up the Quai de Grenelle, where a couple of towering hotels stand. These monstrosities are built over the street, and when we started walking in the annoyingly dark, dingy, covered-over rue de Caillavet, we realized that there was a much more pleasant place to be over our heads, a sort of raised park one level up from the street – a platform connecting the various monstrosities dating back to the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Finding the narrow stairway by way of a sign that announced “RESTAURANT” with an arrow, I said, “Let’s go up there.” The stairway was dingy, dark, and narrow. We felt like explorers in the netherworld. I said, “This is like urban spelunking!” When we reached the platform/park, we found daylight and flowerbeds teaming with bleeding hearts (a perennial flower) and other nice plants. We even found a modern synagogue up there! The whole place was a delightful discovery. No automobiles. Nice. Then we saw an arched footbridge that went over the rue Emeriau, landing in the Square Pablo Casals where many children play. Before we crossed over the bridge, we passed the building where the Mourlan public indoor pool is located – it is closed due to health problems, as are many other Paris municipal pools. We were delighted to see a large space devoted to tennis courts. This is part of a public sports center, and the courts were being used. At the Square Pablo Casals, we decided to walk up to the pleasant Place Saint Charles, where we once saw a movie being filmed. As we started down the rue du Theatre toward home, we looked over our shoulders and saw that a storm cloud was approaching. “What kind of food do you want for dinner?” I asked Tom. He said, “French.” I said, “Okay, French. Let’s see. It is Monday, and Rungis is closed, so the best French restos are closed. But this is Paris, there still are French restaurants to go to on Monday.” The other factor that went into the decision-making process was foie gras. I haven’t had any all summer yet. I’d been building up a slight craving for it, and then the other day, my friend Chef Christian Vivet posted something in Facebook about wanting to do a new appetizer involving foie gras. That did it. After reading that, my craving was full force. The storm cloud was right behind us, closing in. I said, “We better go someplace close to home, because we don’t have umbrellas.” That made the decision simple: Le Café du Commerce, the restaurant right behind our apartment building. We’ve forgiven them for the unacceptable bloody jarret de porc; we remember their delightful Baba au Rhum. It was 7:30PM, so we had a hope of getting one of the upstairs tables, where we prefer to be. The maître d’hotel greeted us with a big smile and said yes, we could go upstairs. The headwaiter upstairs greeted us with a big smile and showed us to our little table. I looked up through the atrium. The glass roof was open. I wondered if they have a rain sensor on it to make it close automatically. Not our problem. Our table was under cover. I ordered the foie gras de canard maison for us to share. It came with a sprinkle of sea salt, a couple slices of country bread, which I love, and an apple and pear chutney. Tom and I shared that starter course. His main course was a delicious steak, an onglet de boeuf, and mine was the suprême de poulet, a roasted Frenched chicken breast in a pool of a sauce called crème forestiere. This sauce involves forest mushrooms, crème fraiche, shallots, broth, herbs, etc. It was delicious. We know the Baba au rhum is the best at this restaurant, so we shared one for dessert. One Baba shared by two is plenty at this place. Our server was attentive and accommodating. No problem with us sharing dessert, and the instant she thought we might need more bread, she presented a new basketful. She brought our check as soon as we asked for it, and knew exactly what to do with a chip-less credit card. When we exited, the rain finally started, replete with thunder and lightning. We managed to get around the corner to our building’s entrance before the real downpour. In the apartment, I opened the kitchen window and took photos of the dramatic sky in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. I looked down at the restaurant; the glass ceiling was now closed. I tried and tried to time the photos to capture the spectacular lightning, but alas, I could not capture the lightning in any of the images. This morning, we woke up to find that there was no power to the modem for our internet connection. The lightning had caused one of the fuses to blow. I determined the technological part – network switch is working, modem is not, no power to modem. That put the responsibility for fixing the problem into Tom’s bailiwick. I do technology, he does raw electricity. And so he found and fixed the problem. I love thunderstorms, though. After watching last night’s through the window, I was able to sleep soundly, all night long. Sign
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Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Even the
illegal fruit vendors were being arrested yesterday in the new zero-tolerance
mode that follows illegal vendors throwing stones at police on Sunday.
Serenity
and dignity have returned to the Champ de Mars.
Footbridge
over to the Square Pablo Casals.
Tennis
courts and track at the rue Emeriau.
Surprise
garden that we found one level up from the street, around the ugly Front de
Seine high-rise buildings.
Above, a paté de foie gras made at Le Café du Commerce, and below, the suprême de poulet
in a sauce called crème forestière, and the onglet de boeuf with Béarnaise
sauce. Sorry I was so caught up by the
Baba au rhum
dessert that I forgot to photograph it.
Our kitchen
window view, with a skyline like those in the movie Ratatouille, with a dramatic thunderstorm at sunset.
At 9PM, the
tower starts to twinkle for ten minutes. |
