Paris Journal 2009 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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Our walk yesterday took us to
the Tuileries, and we decided to walk back through that monumental park since
we haven’t done so in the past few years. First, though, we walked along
the Seine, as we always do on Sunday afternoons. Because Tom finished working earlier than
usual, we had an earlier start. Even
so, by the time we reached the Passerelle Solferino, Bernard Constant had
stopped playing. He came over to chat
with us instead. He said he’s going to
have a four-day vacation soon on the Côte D’Azur – all play, no work, no
music. Good for Bernard! Then he went out by the river
to have a cigarette. I wish he would
not smoke. It has to be bad for his
evidently fragile health. Part of the way through our
Tuileries walk we examined the menu at the outdoor café nearest the Louvre
end of the park. We did not like the
menu, and in particular, we do not like the way that café charges much more
for drinks consumed with no meal. So we went on to the café that
is situated more in the middle of the park.
This is the one we remember from the past – the Café Renard, which has
evidently been there since 1905. Prices there are very
reasonable, and the service is friendly.
At least, our server was friendly. Tom had an apple tart, an
espresso, and a bottle of mineral water, and I had a little carafe of chardonnay. It is interesting that they
call the menu a menu at the Café Renard, because usually it is called a
“carte” in French. And it was not
because the carte was in English. It
was, mostly, in French, with a few words of English in tiny type here and there,
to help the tourists. Menu, in French, is used to
refer to a two- or three- or more course meal at a fixed price. It was not dinnertime, it was
only tea time, when we were at Café Renard, but upon examination of the
menu/carte, I’d have to say that this place just might be a good value for
dinner or for a big lunch. We also liked the little coffee
cups used to serve the espresso. The setting of the café could
not be more pleasant. Completely
surrounded by large trees, the tables are not too crowded together and every
spot is good for watching people pass by, or for gazing at nearby statues. If you go to a café in the
Tuileries, be sure to select the Café
Renard, and not the other one, whatever its name might be. After resting and consuming
enough to feel restored, we walked on through the monumental Tuileries until
we reached the even more monumental Place de la Concorde. We turned to cross the Seine and walk
around the National Assembly building, also known as the Palais Bourbon, to
reach the Place Bourbon – one of our favorite places in Paris. There at the little square on
the left just before reaching the Place Bourbon we saw two men of sub-Saharan
origin taking down banners that had been used in a demonstration earlier in
the day. We’d missed the demonstration,
but we were there in time to read the banners. The demonstration’s purpose,
evidently, was to protest mistreatment by the French of the “Harkis.” Harki is a word that has evolved
since the early 1960s. Originally, it
referred to Muslim Algerians who served in the French army. Now, in France, it is used to refer to
Muslims whose origin or whose ancestors are from former French colonies in
Africa, who are now living in France.
Wikipedia says it now means "repatriated French Muslims." There is some real tension
here, to be sure. Read the protest
banner, at right. Walking back toward the
apartment around 6PM, we were astonished at how hot the sun was. Desert weather again. Fortunately, I’d watered the balcony plants
in the morning. When we arrived home,
the first thing I did was to prepare a basin of cool, soapy water in which I
soaked my feet. My feet do pretty well,
considering that I simply refuse to wear socks and athletic shoes during our
long walks. Tom wears socks and
sensible shoes, but I, being a Florida person, insist on wearing open shoes
in the summer. What I wear is
Naturalizers. They seem to get along
with me very well. When it came to be time for
dinner, we simply went to the brasserie down on the corner at the Commerce
park. The server who is sometimes
deranged saw us coming again and waved us into the restaurant with a grand
welcoming gesture, calling us his friends. Tom selected a table in the
wide open window, just next to the terrace, in between two tables occupied by
local French people: one older couple
enjoying pizzas, and one couple of older ladies. All four seemed to accept us because we
spoke French. A couple times during dinner,
the deranged server reached right across the middle of the older couple’s
table to deliver our food. I was very
embarrassed about that; there was no reason for him to disturb that nice
couple that way. It was completely
unnecessary. Then he brought the coffee and
dessert to the ladies next to us on the other side, loudly complimenting
himself on the great quality of his service.
I could not help but smile at this, and one of the ladies caught my
eye and was smiling, too. The server
was over the top. We paid with cash rather than
expect him to operate the credit card machine, which we know confounds him. The regular Pizza Man was on
duty again, and I had the good fortune of sitting across from his
station. Throughout dinner, I enjoyed
watching him toss dough into perfect circles. The food was good. Pizza Man makes an outstanding Andalouse
pizza with garlic, mushrooms, onions, and chorizo. Tom had his regular carpaccio of beef
served with a nice green salad and homemade fries. I just wish that the deranged
server would go to charm school. Speaking of good manners, when
we arrived at our apartment building late Saturday evening after dinner, we
were surprised to see a note from one of the neighbors posted inside the
elevator. Here’s a translation of it: Dear
neighbors, I’m
organizing this evening (Saturday) a soirée at my place. I beg you in advance to excuse me for this
occasion of bothering you. Cordially, J-----
M----- (3rd
Floor) She need not have
apologized. It was 11PM, and all was
quiet in the building. |
Monday, August 24, 2009
Rough translation of protest banner: “France is racist in regard to the
Harkis. We have been numbered, treated
like animals, and caged in the camps.
France has broken our childhood, destroyed our youth, premeditated our
scholarly failure and our future.
France has reduced us to downfall and misery, and put us on the road
to becoming beggars.”
Naturalizer shoes take me everywhere in Paris.
A magnificent statue near the Café Renard in the
Tuileries. I wonder what
fundamentalists think of the abundant nudity on display in the form of
statues in Paris parks? |
