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

Photos and thoughts about Paris

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Most people don’t realize how much time I put into this journal. The handling of the photos is one job. The writing is another. Then there is the organizing of all the html and jpg files, and the tedious task of uploading each item into the correct place on the web host’s server. If I translate articles, as I did yesterday, that’s even more time, and a very different kind of task. There is also the searching and finding of links to make to items or places mentioned in the journal text or captions. Then I must create those links in the html file, too. Maybe none of this makes sense unless you create websites yourself, but trust me, one must concentrate while doing all of this. So on a day like yesterday where I did a major journal entry, and then because of the strikes going on regarding changes to the French retirement system (I had to read the French newspaper online) – I get tired of sitting. The distributors of newspapers were on strike. In the evening, we hoped we’d be able to buy the International Herald Tribune (IHT), but no cigar. Only the British Guardian and a major German newspaper seemed to be available. Plus some oddball French tabloids were for sale. Mostly the racks at the news kiosques and presse shops were empty. We tried to find the IHT at about a dozen places before giving up. The entire afternoon yesterday, Tom and I devoted to creating the latest newsletter for our homeowners association in Florida. So I had an entire day of sitting in my chair, in front of the computer. I was more stiff and sore from this than I would have been if I walked all the way across Paris and back. Tom also put desk time into calculating how much he’s made in royalties since 1995 (as far back as I have Quicken records). Today brings another punishing morning in the desk chair for me, this time to produce the Zonta newsletter for the club I belong to back on Sanibel. Still, I want to write for you all. But first, Tom and I must go take a break to hear a one-hour mid-day jazz concert by the “Guardians of the Peace” at the gazebo in the Luxembourg Gardens. Chow for now. Back now. We really did hear the music of the Gardiens de la Paix. These musically talented Parisian police – 22 men and one woman – wore their sharp-looking dress uniforms. There was a 3-person rhythm section, including tympani, drumset, xylophone, and various assorted accessories. Everyone else played a horn. All of the various horns had no valves! Some of the trumpets had holes over which the players placed their fingers. Otherwise, I guess, the musicians controlled the notes with their mouths and with their hands held in the bells. I’ll show you pictures of them on another day, after I’ve had the chance to process the photos. Tom had thought that perhaps this group would be rather amateurish, like a firemen’s rock group that we once saw in Paris. But no, these police are very talented musicians. They played big band (jazz) music and concert band music, including some marches. The drummer, on the regular drumset, was the absolute star of the show. Wow. We set up our chairs on the side of the gazebo so we could see the rhythm section. That was a good choice. The crowd was not large, and they were for the most part right in front of the band, and so they could not see the drummer. What a pity for them. We had the best seats, off to the side, by ourselves. What a treat to have this facility with these concerts so nearby. Tomorrow, there is more music in the park. Not jazz, but one singer of French songs, and then something called “We Were Evergreen,” described as “toy pop.” What is toy pop? I have no clue. I thought it was a video arcade game. But as a genre of music? Can anyone out there tell me? Last night after we gave up the search for newspapers, we went down from the boulevard Saint Germain toward the Odéon Theatre, thinking we might go to La Bastide Odéon, a restaurant that Tom remembers fondly, but for which I have only moderate memories. An extraordinarily loud rock band was playing in front of the Odéon, unfortunately. The concert was probably something in “solidarité” with the strikers. We didn’t care for it. Too loud. So we went down rue Monsieur le Prince instead of rue de l’Odéon, checking out some restaurants along the way. But at rue Vaugirard, we went back around to the rue Corneille, where La Bastide is located. It was open, and two of the servers were hanging out in the open doorway, listing to the rock band. But the volume wasn’t so bad there; the loudspeakers were aimed in the other direction. So we went in, and we had a good dinner. The problem was, l’Épi Dupin of the night before was a very tough act to follow. I had a croustillant of andouillette, which was exactly what I expected, and quite good. The croustillant looked like an egg roll, cut in half, but stuffed with the insides of andouillette sausage instead of Asian fare. It came with a really nice, fresh white mushroom salad with fresh chives. My main course was a filet of dorade (sea bream), one of my favorite fishes, cooked perfectly and served with a sauce that was a dark green emulsion of herbs and olive oil. It came with a tasty big pile of sautéed snow peas and broccoli. Really good. Tom had the roasted chicken breast, served with a nice brown demi-glace sauce. For dessert, he had a terrific mille-feuille, with vanilla cream inside. It was large, light, and fluffy. The service did not match the food. The servers were young, overweight, and devoid of warmth. To them, this is just a job. Not a profession. One of them was so detached that we’d have to say he was rude. In good French restaurants like this, the servers are normally very professional about their work, and usually they seem to enjoy it, or at least to find it satisfying. And the prices at La Bastide are just a bit too high. Each of our dinners should have been 6 or 8 euros less. And so it goes. More tomorrow. 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.

Thursday, September 9, 2010 Rising from the dead, at the Saint Sulpice church. Angel in the Saint Sulpice church. The sacristy of the Saint Sulpice church, restored mostly with dollars from American benefactors. ← Previous Next →