Paris Journal 2013 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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Determined to
enjoy every last day of our 2013 stay in the 15th arrondissement,
we walked the length of the rue Saint Charles, including the several blocks
that become one of the many Paris open-air markets two days per week. The market wasn’t happening in the evening
when we were walking, but the market stall canopies were in place. When we were
almost to the end of the the street at the bottom of the arrondissement, a
sudden commotion occurred. A car
honked its horn impatiently as we pedestrians were crossing a street. It turned out to be one of those tiny
unmarked cars stuffed full of three big undercover policemen. I turned to
glare at whoever was honking at pedestrians who were crossing legally and saw
one of the guys pull a light off the dashboard in the car, then stick it out
on the roof of the car. It began to
flash. A siren started. The little car
whipped around the corner and just ahead of us, it pulled over quickly to the
curb. The big, fit policemen in dirty
t-shirts and jeans jumped out of the car and walked up to a group of about
six young men who were walking about a half a block ahead of us. About two
minutes before, those young men had passed us on the sidewalk. One of them was exceedingly tall. Tom thought the
exceptionally tall one was not really with the other five young men. He was just trying to look like he was with
them, by walking close to them. The police
singled out the tall one, who then proceeded to pull out what appeared to be
his wallet, to show his identification. Tom thought he
was suspected of having just stolen something from one of the merchants up
the street. Later, we saw the same
unmarked car and undercover police parked in front of a shop up the
street. So I guess that may be what
happened. They’d taken the suspect
back to the scene of the crime. You never know. The day that we
walked over to the Maison de Balzac I became aware of someone following too
close behind me as we made our way along a narrow section under the structure
of the bi-level bridge at Bir Hakeim. I eased up to
Tom’s ear and whispered, “Stop, right here, right now.” So we stopped,
and the man behind me had to keep going.
But later, he kept re-appearing.
I tried to stay way behind him.
We’d turn a different way from the way he was going, then after we’d
walked a block or so, he was suddenly there again. It was bizarre. He truly was following us. He was small,
and thin, dressed in “dude” fashion.
He was even somewhat stylish, but odd.
We caught him a couple more times, following us, on the rue Raynouard. But I wasn’t too concerned. I thought there was no way he’d follow us
into the Maison de Balzac. I was
right. When we turned into that
cultural landmark, the man vanished.
We did not see him again. I pay attention
to my street sense about people who get too close, and stay too close. Stop. Turn.
Stare off at something just beyond the person. Start coughing or pretending to
sneeze. Act like you just had an
epiphany about some new direction to take.
But above all, be aware. Be
very aware. I’m sure the
five young men who were walking along were very startled when the police
nabbed this guy who was right there with them. But he wasn’t really with them. Other than that
oddball event, it was a very pleasant walk on the rue Saint Charles. We took the rue des Entrepreneurs toward
home so I could freshen up and change before dinner. We had
reservations at Stephane Martin, a longtime favorite restaurant on the rue
des Entrepreneurs. When we arrived
for dinner, we were given a quiet table in the corner by the window onto the
rue Edmond Roger. I decided to
have the turbot filet with ravioli. It
was a very white-on-white dish, and so would not photograph well. But it was excellent. The turbot was poached and served in a
spicy poultry broth. The ravioles were definitely home made and
stuffed with just a little goat cheese.
The dish was topped with a nice sprinkling of chives. It was not
large; it was right-sized. Tom had an
excellent veal chop served with tiny round potatoes and roasted garlic
cloves. Yumm. Dessert was a moelleux au chocolat for me, and apple
tart for Tom. It was an excellent
dinner, which would have seemed to be a bit overpriced were it not for the
30% reduction offered through LaFourchette.com. Today, we begin
the preparations for moving over to the 6th arrondissement. That’s a process that will be completed
tomorrow evening. Moving on! |
Friday, August 30, 2013
Statue
of Marshal Joseph Jacques Césaire Joffre
(1852-1931) in front of the École Militaire. He’s pointing toward the Eiffel Tower.
Duckie stuck on the Pont de Bir Hakeim.
Waterbirds on doorway ironwork on the rue Elisée
Reclus.
Desserts at Stephane Martin: moelleux au chocolat, et tarte aux pommes.
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