Paris Journal 2013 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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Everything seemed to be
normal at first, as I began walking up the right side of the rue du
Commerce. My destination was the Champ
de Mars. I had not walked very far;
I’d only reached the somewhat sharply angled intersection of the avenue Émile
Zola and the rue du Commerce. I could hear a large diesel
engine, so I glanced lazily over in the direction of the noise. There was a rare sight for
this street: a semi-truck with a
full-length, two-level car-carrying trailer loaded with cars. The driver was trying to make that sharp
right turn from the avenue onto the rue.
Good luck, I thought. That will
take several attempts! The driver had other
plans. He must have said to himself
“I’m going to do this in just one try.”
He proceeded slowly. And he did
not stop. The most awful,
ear-piercing sound of metal being crunched and glass being broken rose above
the already noisy urban ambiance. All of us, the many
pedestrians in the various parts of that intersection, stopped dead in our
tracks and stared, mouths open, as it happened. The truck driver kept on
going. He did not stop even once he’d made it around the corner. Behind him, he left some real damage. The main victim of his
hubris was the metal pole with the traffic and pedestrian signals. These objects lay on the pavement of the
sidewalk, the pole bent definitively at its base, where it entered the
concrete. The signals were broken,
not just there on that corner; on each corner of the interesection, the
lights were no longer operating. A
large bag of wine bottles that someone had left on the sidewalk next to one
of those big, green, bottle receptacles was also crushed, leaving a bit of a
mess. We all stood there still,
watching the truck rolling on, away from the scene of the crime, down the rue
du Commerce, toward the old Saint John the Baptist village church of
Grenelle. Surely somebody used a cell
phone to take a photo of the trailer’s rear end with its license plate. My camera was zipped in its bag on my
shoulder, and I didn’t even think about taking a photo. I was too shocked. It is probably just as well; if the driver
had seen me photographing his truck, I would have had a hard time “discussing”
the situation with him because my French tends to leave me when I’m under
serious stress, such as in the midst of a confrontation. So I went on, taking my
life in my hands as I crossed the intersection with no traffic or pedestrian
signals operating. I thought of the words to
use if I happened to see a policeman in the next block or so. I did see two security cops -- very large ones – but they were busy
confronting a shopkeeper who’d illegally deposited three huge, full trash
bags on the sidewalk in front of his store.
Tsk, tsk. With all the cars honking
and the confusion at the Zola and Commerce intersection back there, it would
not be long before the police would be on the scene. I continued to the avenue
de la Motte-Picquet, and when I reached the place where the restaurant La
Gitane used to be and where the bar Le Pavillon is now, I saw that the server
who most often served us at La Gitane was there, working at Le Pavillon. She recognized me and
strolled out through the tables on the terrasse
to shake my hand and greet me. We had an odd conversation
in French. In a matter-of-fact way,
she acknowledged my surprise at the change.
Then she adopted a sardonic tone as she said, “Well, everybody has to
have their Happy Hours. Everybody has
to have their club sandwiches.
Everybody has to have their cheeseburgers. Everybody has to have their tapas. Everybody has to mix their mayonnaise and
their ketchup.” I said, “Wow. That’s just like home, in the United
States.” She said yes, it is the same
everywhere. I asked about Corinne and
Olivier Mayeras, the former owners of La Gitane. She said, “Gone. In retirement.” She did not seem to miss them at all. But I do. She was dressed not in the
white shirt and black slacks or skirt of a server. Now she was dressed in a colorful knit top,
but she did have a server’s apron tied around her hips. We continued the odd
conversation for a bit, then she turned to go back to work, and I thanked her
and went on my way. At the Champ de Mars, I was
planning to go to the bandstand/stage where a group from two middle schools
near Manchester, England, were scheduled to perform. When I arrived there was no
sign of the group. So I went a bit farther
and found myself a nice park bench in the shade by one of the kids’ play
areas with an old-fashioned merry-go-round. I was then using my phone
to call Tom back at the apartment, to tell him not to bother to come because
the group wasn’t there, when all of a sudden, the kids started to arrive out
of nowhere. There were over fifty of
them, crowding onto the platform of the bandstand. Their fearless leader, who
we were later told was their principal, was trying to shout orders and get
them to organize themselves. They did,
eventually, by walking off to find the bus that held all their instruments. When they were filing back
to the bandstand with their instrument cases in hand is when Tom arrived at
the Champ. I’d found us a nice seat
under a shelter, facing the bandstand.
We had a pleasant time just sitting in the shade, watching these
confident, cute kids get ready to perform. Finally they did. At least some of them did. The ones who formed a swing band performed
first, and the others watched. Some of
the others formed a line dancing group, which was fun for us to watch. The people who sat next to
us were grandparents of kids in the band.
They’d come all the way over, across the channel, just to be
supportive and watch the kids perform. The swing band didn’t
really know how to swing, and the drummer had his work cut out for him. But somehow they played pretty good
approximations of the songs. They
played some things that were not easy – like “Maniac” (from the movie Flashdance) and some things that were
fun – like “Locomotion.” Other pieces
were old swing band standards. After a while, they all
rearranged themselves into a smaller band and a big chorus. Suddenly, all the kids were on
stage. We especially enjoyed that part
of the concert. As a chorus, they were
excellent. We did not stay for the
entire concert because Tom wanted to watch the end of the day’s stage of the
Tour de France on TV. On the avenue de la
Motte-Picquet again, we saw the former-server-now-manager of Le
Pavillon. She greeted Tom, whom she’d
not seen yet this summer, and then we were invited inside to see the new
décor. We were impressed. A lot of capital has been invested in Le
Pavillon. It occurred to me that while
it is true that the restaurant is gone -- replaced by a bar -- in a way, the place has
gone back to its roots. Originally the location of
the bar/tabac that was associated
with La Gauloise (restaurant down the street), the spot has become a much
nicer version of what it once was, before it became a restaurant. The tabac
aspect is not there, and instead the luxe quality of a cocktail lounge has
replaced it. We thanked the manager for
the tour and promised to return sometime soon. We walked back down the rue
du Commerce and noticed that the police had the intersection of Zola and
Commerce under control again. A
temporary signal pole had been erected, and as we passed through, it was
switched on and the policewoman who’d been directing traffic was
relieved. Maybe this kind of damage
happens frequently in Paris? I’m not
sure, but it is the first time I’ve seen it, after many summers of wandering
the streets. Tom stopped at the bakery
and I at the Nicolas store. I chatted
with the young woman who works there about the “accident.” C’est
incroyable, we both agreed, how the driver just left the scene. And it was a good thing that nobody was
injured. Back at the apartment, I
checked on our dinner reservation via LaFourchette.com. Darn!
The restaurant Cristal De Sel had annulled our reservation! It must be too full. I was disappointed, because
I’d dressed up in one of my sundresses, put on “new” vintage earrings, and
was all ready for a nice dinner at a French restaurant in Paris. No reservation. Tom suggested we go to La Gauloise, which
is big enough that you can almost always get a table, as long as you’re
willing to sit inside, away from the smokers on the terrasse. We were not disappointed at
La Gauloise. We were given an
excellent table. I was sitting right
in front of a row of photographs of the owner of La Gauloise with a number of
different celebrities and politicians.
The one right behind my head was of Nicolas Sarkozy and the owner,
who, I believe, is an active member of the UMP (center right conservative
party). Almost all the old servers
are gone, except for the man who brought our main courses out from the
kitchen. But the new servers are up to
the standard of La Gauloise. The restaurant has made
some physical/décor improvements in recent years, which is good. Otherwise, a place gets to be fairly beat
up, given the kind of use a restaurant like La Gauloise has. You see, this classic
restaurant is open every day of the week.
And it is popular, and dependably good. Best of all, La Gauloise is beautiful. In fact, we had a dinner
there last night that was as good as any dinner we’ve ever had at La Gauloise
– and that’s saying something. We were given a nice mis en bouche – a light, creamy
vegetable dip with some little, thin slices of toast. For a starter, we shared a
country terrine that was made with slow-cooked beef. It was delicious. I ordered a jumbo shrimp
and calamari dish that was prepared like a paella. It was very good. (I could not eat most of the rice – it was
too much, and very rich – but for someone with a hearty appetite, this would
be appealing.) Tom had a dish called an estouffade. We didn’t know what that was when we were
initially examining the menu, so I’d asked our server about it. She said “C’est comme un boeuf bourgignon.”
I’ve had beef bourgignon at La Gauloise before, and remembered that it
was superb. Tom was delighted with the
dish. He pronounced it “top quality.” He then finished with a crème brûlée for dessert. When the check arrived, it came with two madeleines and two pieces of dark chocolate
as well. Hopefully, Cristal de Sel
will not cancel our reservation tonight.
I’m looking forward to wearing the other sundress I brought. We’ve had excellent
sundress weather. For us, the weather
is warm, but not hot. But then we’re
south Floridians, who don’t think it is hot until the temperatures are in the
90s (F) with 90 percent or more humidity. This week, we’ve had high
temperatures in the low to mid 80s in Paris, and the humidity is not high at
all. With nighttime temperatures in
the 60s, this is very pleasant, for us. Other people here, however,
think this is hot weather. Go
figure. It is all relative, I suppose. We’ve had no rain, and so
the work of keeping all the balcony plants watered is not small. Tomatoes have been added to the mix this
year, and you know how much watering they require! But we have no complaints
about the weather, especially considering how hot it is now in the northern
part of the U.S. We’re happy campers in
Paris. Tom has been especially happy,
because the “work” sent by his publisher this week involves looking over the
surveys completed by teachers who use one of his textbooks, Back to the Lake (3rd
edition). The comments are so
overwhelmingly positive that he glows when he’s reading through them. If Tom’s happy, I’m happy. |
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Middle
school students from Marple Hall and Wilmslow schools near Manchester, England, perform on the
Champ de Mars.
When
the swing band played, some of the kids who were not in the band did some
line dancing. The boy with the dark, curley hair was especially good.
I
had to wait for the horse and buggy to pass before I could reach the Champ de
Mars.
The former server from
La Gitane who now manages
Le Pavillon on the avenue de la Motte-Picquet.
A
lot of money has gone into re-doing the interior of Le Pavillon.
Interior
of La Gauloise, with some new wallpaper panels.
A
country terrine so inviting I forgot to take a photo before digging in and
putting some of it on a nice piece of crusty, country bread.
Shrimp
and calamari paella.
Beef
estouffade
at La Gauloise was part of a fixed price, 29-euro
three-course dinner that included the terrine and a crème brûlée. But there are yet more choices. The shrimp and calamari dish, however, had
to be ordered a la carte.
Our
server, at the bar, at La Gauloise. Note the stuffed rooster in the plexiglass case on the right. He’s a new addition to the place. |
