Paris Journal 2010 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

Photos and thoughts about Paris

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Yesterday was a blessed day. First of all, it was my dad’s birthday, and I talked to him via Skype. I am extremely fortunate to have such a wonderful father who is doing so very well in his eighties. Secondly, in the midst of our long Sunday walk, we were able to visit once again with the cat of the Julia, a boat on the Seine near the pedestrian bridge called the Passerelle de Billy – very close to the Eiffel Tower. We met this cat so many years ago – maybe ten years ago? Because of its size and shape of head, I thought it was a male. But now we know she is female. I don’t think I saw her last year or the year before, and three years ago, I thought perhaps she was looking not so well. She must be an old cat now, after all. Yesterday, after we’d had a nice break for lunch at the café of the Musée du Quai Branly, we continued our walk southwestwards along the left bank. At the Passerelle, for some reason I said “Let’s go see if the cat is there,” and Tom agreed. We crossed the Passerelle, and when we’d almost reached the end, Tom called from behind me, “Look, Barbara, there’s the cat!” I quickened my pace. Then I saw her, on the cobblestones, sauntering away from the Julia and toward the shade of the passerelle. I descended from the passerelle to the granite-paver-and-cobblestone quai. There, on the granite near the bottom of the steps, the cat lounged in a queenly posture. She was looking very good and healthy. I gently sat on the granite curb near her and she came right over to be petted and scratched behind the ears. She immediately approved of me and proceeded to rub up against me, encircling me, to be sure she covered all sides. I know this is not a sign of affection in a cat; it is a mark of possession. Now, as far as she was concerned, I was her property, her staff. I’d been rubbed; I was a marked human. We continued this routine, my petting her in long strokes along her backbone, admiring her gorgeous long, thick fur. She is what we call a Maine Coon cat in the U.S., and what the Europeans call a Norwegian Forest cat. At any rate, she’s a big, gorgeous, healthy old long-haired domestic cat with light green eyes. A trim man came up to his motorcycle, parked not more than 7 or 8 feet away from me and the cat. Tom was up on the bridge above us, not wanting to intrude on the scene. He knows that some cats, like a cat we know named Rudy, are afraid of him, and he didn’t want to risk ruining the moment. Neither did the man on the motorcycle, it seems. When he finally had his gear in place and helmet on his head, he started that motorcycle in the most gentle and quiet manner possible. The cat was a bit nervous about him after he put the scary helmet on, but all was okay as the sensitive motorcyclist rode away. I noticed a thirty-something-year-old man on deck of the Julia, hanging laundry. After a while, I stood up, leaving the queenly cat stretched out on the cool granite slab. She was content. I looked up at Tom and said, “Why don’t you come down and we’ll walk down here.” Then I went over toward the man on the Julia and said, “Bonjour, monsieur. Vous avez un beau chat.” He replied, embarrassed, “I only speak English.” He had a very mild German accent. I responded, “Ah. You have a very beautiful cat.” He said, “It is really my uncle’s cat. She thinks she is a queen.” That’s when I learned the cat was female. I said, “We’ve been visiting this cat for maybe ten years. We come here in the summer every year. She looks very much like a cat we once had. He lived to be at least 21 years old, so she will probably live a long time.” The young man was pleasantly surprised. He talked some more about her queenly attitude, and I asked what her name was. He said he didn’t think his uncle had ever given her a name. I said, “So, she is the Cat of the Julia.” I told him his uncle is very fortunate to have such a fine cat. We bade farewell, and he wished us a pleasant stay. Tom and I walked on, then finding that we could not go very far in that direction on the right bank, we turned around, came back to the Passerelle, pausing to say goodbye to the Cat of the Julia (who is not afraid of Tom, it seems), and crossed back over to the Passerelle to continue along the left bank. We went all the way to the Parc André Citroën. That’s a long walk – from the place where rue Bonaparte intersects the Seine in the 6^th arrondissement to the Parc Citroën. Gilles Clément is a landscape designer who was involved with the design of both the magnificent Parc Andre Citroën (on the site of the former Citroën automobile factory in the 15^th arrondissement) and the attractive garden of the Musée du Quai Branly. We were fortunate to visit two of his parks in one day. We found a bench in the shade where we rested for a while, then walked around in the park for a bit until we were too tired to continue. We found the number 10 métro at the Javel stop and went home to rest. Later in the evening, we went out and wandered around, looking for a good place to have Sunday dinner. Earlier, we had eaten at the cafeteria of the Branly – African chicken for me (just like Basque chicken, but a bit spicier) and carpaccio of beef for Tom. Portions were just right for lunch, and with all that walking, we were hungry for dinner. Finally, after wandering for a half hour, we were surprised to find that the restaurant Aux 2 Oliviers was open on the rue Vaugirard, near the Senate (Luxembourg Palace). Our friend Carol and a couple others had suggested this place to us. It has only been in business since late 2007. I would never have thought it was open on Sundays, but there it was. We went in and politely asked if there was a table for two, and indeed there was. We were seated about two-thirds of the way back in the very narrow dining room, which was made to seem twice as large by a mirrored wall on one side. It is a nice enough dining room, yet we could see that it had been put together on a budget. When they get some extra money together, the owners should hire a decorator. You have to order at least a two-course dinner at Aux 2 Oliviers, for a minimum of 25 euros per person. We opted for main course and dessert. I will say that the appetizers at the table of political staffers next to us looked beautiful. I ordered the faux filet of beef, knowing that it might be chewy, but wanting the camembert sauce and pommes grenaille that came with it. It was exactly what I expected. The sauce, small white potatoes, and grilled/herbed tomato that came with the chewy-but-tasty beef were all very good. Tom ordered the filet mignon of pork, thinly sliced and sautéed in a wok. It was a small portion, but exceptionally good. I gave him some of my potatoes and steak so he felt well-fed. For dessert, Tom had a superb tarte fine aux pommes with caramel sauce and a scoop of ice cream. He does love his apple pie, and this was an excellent one. I had, for the first time this summer, one of my very favorite desserts. It is what I and most French restaurants usually call a moelleaux au chocolat, or fondant au chocolat, but here at 2 Oliviers it was called a soufflé au chocolat. It was hot and very dark, very rich, and very delicious. It came with a little scoop of old fashioned vanilla ice cream, which was melting rapidly. So I dumped it right into the soufflé. That was an excellent solution. And an excellent way to end the day, along with jazz CDs played softly on the new stereo. Sign my guestbook. View my guestbook. Note: For addresses & phone numbers of restaurants in this journal, click here. And here’s the 2009 Paris Journal.

Monday, September 6, 2010 Statues by Jean Antoine Injalbert on the Pont Mirabeau on the Seine. The beautiful Cat of the Julia, who lives on the Seine. Flowers blooming in the beautiful garden of the Musée du Quai Branly. Parts of the garden at the Musée du Quai Branly look like a Japanese garden. Here, the stones represent water, and the slabs of what look like wood represent a bridge. Grasses are overtaking the ampitheatre at the Musée du Quai Branly. ← Previous Next →