Paris Journal 2009 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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It was cool and cloudy when we
walked over to the Jardin des Plantes yesterday: good weather for walking. We took my newer, better route for getting
there, generally staying on smaller streets and passing by some of the more
historic sites in the city, like the Panthéon, the St. Étienne du Mont
church, and the old Philippe Auguste wall remnant on rue Clovis. Also included is the rue des Boulangers,
just because I think it is quaint. This route involves some hill
climbing, which is good for the legs and heart. The goal for the day was the
menagerie – an old-fashioned zoo. The
real Paris zoo is out in the Bois de Vincennes, on the eastern edge of
Paris. It is more modern, and has better
facilities for some of the big animals. But we like the leafy greenness
of the old menagerie, along with its quaint older buildings, and its location
in the central part of the city. The large cats are always my
favorite, although it bothers me some to see them so caged. The male snow leopard, in particular, made
me sad because he was pacing back and forth, clearly irritated. But this time, the real
highlights of the day were the tortoises.
We saw them near the end of our visit.
Nobody was paying any attention to them, and I don’t know why. It was clear to us that something was
happening with them. Why did only the two of us
notice? Probably because we are more
attuned to wildlife, since we live in the swamp, than most city dwellers are. When we realized what was going
on, we quickened our pace so we could arrive in time to bring you the
sequence of photos, at right. The male tortoise, who was much
larger than the female, was in the mood for sex. The female was not. He pursued her, and began
climbing up on her back. He made a
loud noise, and even that didn’t attract anyone else’s attention. She made a beeline for the
little wooden house in their penned area.
The door to the house was open, and it was wide enough for her, but
not for him. She made it through the doorway
just in time, before he could do what he wanted to do. In the last photo of the series,
I think you can even see the disappointment on his tortoise face. C’est la vie. We were also mildly amused by
one allée where the macaws were in
cages on one side, and various kinds of vultures were in cages on the other
side. When sparrows flew in to see
about swiping food, they always went to the macaw side, and never to the
vulture side. Who says little birds
are stupid? There were a number of
different kinds of goats on display. I
didn’t know there were so many kinds. And here it was, the day after
I learned that the President had called someone a jackass (off the record, of
course), we got to see a real one. Other wildlife on view at the
menagerie included many kinds of snakes, frogs, weird-looking birds of all
sizes, the biggest rodents in the world, and lots of squealing and screaming
children. After we’d made sure we’d seen
everything in the menagerie, we walked out to one of the little cafés in the
garden. The menu is very limited in
these places, but Tom had fond memories of great fries that he’d eaten in the
Jardin years ago, the last time we’d visited the menagerie. So that’s where we had “tea,”
to refresh ourselves before taking the challenging walk home. By the time we returned to the
apartment, we’d been on our feet for four hours – and some of that time was
spent climbing a steep hill. We rested for a while, and then
made a reservation at Chez Maitre
Paul on the rue Monsieur le Prince because we were hungry. This restaurant
features the hearty cuisine of the Franche-Comté
in eastern France. I just love the poulette fermière at this
restaurant. Tom likes the lamb
chops. We also shared a starter course
of saucisse fumée de Montbéliard
chaude, pommes à l'huile (hot smoked sausage from Montbéliard with
potatoes in olive oil). That tasted very German, and I mean it in a
good way. Tom could not resist ordering
the walnut cake again. Not long ago, when we were at
the fromagerie in the food market at St. Germain, I bought some comté cheese
– one of my favorites. Madame asked if
we wanted the old or the new cheese. I
said the old. She then asked how to
say that in English. We told her that
the word for vieux is “old,” but
with cheese, we would say “aged,” like âgé
in French. But she had difficulty in
pronouncing “aged.” The aged comté makes an
excellent substitute for Parmesan cheese, which can be ridiculously expensive
in France. Yesterday, I used shredded
comté along with chopped country ham from the butcher at the food market to
make a ham and cheese omelette which we shared before embarking on our long
walk. The butter and eggs in the
omelette were also from the fromagerie at the market. High-quality ingredients yielded a
high-quality omelette. |
Thursday, September 17, 2009
He
begins the climb; she begins her escape.
She’s
getting closer to the door.
She’s
almost there.
Sorry,
bud.
This
orangutan was looking at a book with pictures, slowly turning pages just like
a person.
A
healthy bunch of flamingos living in Paris, dining on shrimp, at the
menagerie.
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