Barbara Cooley's Paris Journal

Paris Journal 2013 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

Find me on Facebook 2012 Paris Journal ← Previous Next → Back to the Beginning

A nice aspect of being in this neighborhood is that we see people we know on the street, they greet us, and we chat with them. This includes people from the building, like the guardienne and her husband, or other occupants of the building, like the couple living below our apartment or the older lady on the second floor or the older lady on the 6^th floor. It includes the woman who runs the alterations/leather jacket store across the street. It includes the servers we know from La Gitane, who are still there, now that the place is a bar called Le Pavillon.

It is heartwarming to have busy servers call out to greet you as you walk by on a busy sidewalk.

One person we often ran into as we walked in the neighborhood was Reza, the old Iranian electrician/plumber whose headquarters was in a shop down the street. He does work occasionally for the owners of this apartment where we’re staying. The owners also consider him to be a friend and longtime acquaintance.

When we saw the owners in early July, they informed us that Reza retired this Spring, but was still in the neighborhood. However, we haven’t seen him. We miss seeing him, and miss seeing his two white Persian cats who used to lounge about amidst all the plumbing parts and pieces in the shop windows.

Another person we’ve seen for years is a woman who is probably about my age. In the first years that we saw her, I had the impression that she was homeless. But she seemed to live in some imaginary, wonderful world in her mind. She dressed like a child of the 60s. I believe she is a schizophrenic. In the early years that we saw her, I think she was off her medication.

In more recent years, she has been more subdued, as if she is on her medication. A couple years ago, we saw her standing in the open window of one of the beat-up buildings on the rue du Commerce, near the Monoprix. So she wasn’t homeless anymore. That was reassuring.

She often begs, as she sits on the sidewalk, usually on the rue du Commerce. She does so politely. Other longtime residents of the neighborhood generally do stop to give her some coins. We do the same.

But we had not seen her yet this summer. Then one day last week, as I was walking back from the Champ de Mars, I saw that a woman was sitting on the sidewalk up ahead of me. I could not quite see her face, as she leaned back against the wall of the building behind her.

One of her legs was in a cast, which was wrapped up on plastic to keep it dry.

As I approached, I could see that it was her – the schizophrenic lady. I rummaged in the zippered coin compartment of my camera bag as I walked past. I could barely hear her weak voice as she asked a person ahead of me for some change.

Just after I’d passed her, I found the right coins. I turned, went back to her, and said “Bonjour, madame,” as I gave her a few euros.

She thanked me, and I smiled a little as I bade her a good day.

I am amazed at how much she has aged. She still seems to be subdued, as if on her medications. I suppose those meds could age a person. I’m sure the life she leads is not easy, and that would age a person, too.

There but for the grace of God . . . .

I am so thankful for my health and for my family.

We must guard our health. Since the heat and the air pollution weren’t so bad yesterday, we decided to take a very long walk: up past the Champ de Mars, through the garden of the Musée du Quai Branly, and down to the riverbank, where we strolled and enjoyed the new pedestrian amenities.

The archipel was looking even better, as plants are taking hold. When we needed to rest, we sat on some of the timbers that serve as whimsical benches, in the deep shade under one the Pont d’Alma, near the tunnel where Princess Diana was in a fatal car accident.

We walked on to my favorite bridge, the Pont Alexandre III, which will soon have a nice restaurant in its lower chambers, where we used to see edgy, impromptu art exhibits that would appear suddenly, and then disappear just as quickly.

The restaurant will be called Faust. Already, there is an outdoor drinks-only café on the riverbank next to this bridge. It is also called Faust, so I guess that when the resto is completed, this will be the terrasse for the resto.

It is possible to buy some food to accompany your drinks at the café now. You simply walk over to a nearby Airstream trailer called Faust, where you can buy sandwiches and perhaps tapas in paper containers or wrappers, which you bring back to your table.

We just wanted liquid refreshment, so we sat down at a table in the shade and ordered an espresso, a Badoit, and a glass of white wine. Our thoughtful and generous server delivered two tumblers full of ice to accompany the Badoit.

We thoroughly enjoyed the music coming out of the Bose speakers at Faust: Ray Charles. The Parisians do love American jazz, rhythm and blues. Ray seranaded us with a Beatles medly, which was different; and then there was Ray singing “Georgia.” It doesn’t get much better than that.

Our server seemed to notice how much we were quietly enjoying the music. The view was fine, too. The Seine. My favorite bridge, the overly decorated Pont Alexandre III. The statues atop the Grand Palais. Lovely.

After that pause, we walked some more, pausing briefly to watch some BMX bike stunts on a ramp installed for that purpose (also for skateboards) on the riverbank.

Tom fooled around on some chin-up bars. There are lots of other amenities like that, for fitness, and for kids to climb on, here and there all along the riverbank now.

As the afternoon warmed up, we walked more slowly. Finally arriving back at the apartment, we noticed that the internet connection had died. I did the usual, unplugging the modem, waiting 30 seconds, plugging it back in, waiting to see if it would connect. I did that several times.

The wireless was working just fine, but there was no internet connection.

Tom took a pre-dinner nap. I realized that the internet connection was seriously broken, so I woke him up a half hour early. We went together down the street to the Numericable boutique to ask about what was wrong.

Numericable is the internet service provider and the cable TV provider for this apartment. During the Tour de France, we sometimes lost the signal, but that wasn’t much of a problem since we could easily turn on France 2 or 3 on the dining room TV, which still receives its signal from an antenna on the roof of the building – no cable required.

I hope that what the man told me last night at Numericable is true. He said that the problem is caused by some workers who cut a cable, and that 78 households are affected. If that’s true, the problem should be fixed promptly.

But since we were already having signal problems during the Tour de France, I’m skeptical. I think the cut cable story is one that might be used to deflect blame. We shall see. But now it is 10 in the morning and we still have no internet service.

This day’s journal entry is almost written, but I have no internet connection with which to upload it for you to see. Pas de connexion.

Of course, this comes at a time when we need the connection more than ever, because of a real estate transaction that we’ll be completing over the next several days.

We will deal with the problem, but it will present some challenges. To complicate things further, tomorrow (Friday) and Saturday will once again be heat wave days, with high temperatures in the 90s F.

I’m talking about checking into a hotel tonight or tomorrow if things don’t improve. On va voir . . . .

Back to the positive: Dinner last night at Axuria was superb. It began with one mis en bouche – a couple tiny cheese-puff rolls and a few bits of Parma ham. Then another one arrived – a shot glass containing cool curry-seasoned fish soup with a thin crouton.

Then we shared an appetizer consisting of two thin slices of Basque paté with a bit of salad and vinaigrette. It was very tasty.

I wanted to have some of the house specialty – milk-fed lamb. And so I ordered the noisette d’agneau. Tom had the roasted veal, which arrived as a large portion, on its own platter. There was also a side dish of Axuria’s delicious vegetables. The only thing on Tom’s plate was a pile of sautéed potatoes. The rest he had to dish up from the platter and side dish.

So it felt like the meal was served family-style. My noisette was very small, but Tom shared his veal with me.

I guess Tom didn’t want to share dessert, because at the beginning of the meal, he ordered two Grand Marnier soufflés for us. Okay. I can deal with that. The soufflés, while impressive looking, are very light.

The sauces at Axuria are far from bland. They explode with flavor. The meat is always expertly prepared, in our experiences there. As usual, the restaurant was full of chattering French people who all seemed to deeply appreciate the cuisine and the company of the people they were with.

Oh good. I just received a good omen: today’s mail finally includes the vacuum cleaner parts I had ordered a couple weeks ago, as well as two DVD’s from my church back home. So I can make the movie files of the sermons to upload to the church web site.

If only I had an internet connection!

Skype dings! The omen was correct! I’m connected! Here you go, another day in my Paris Journal. Cheers!

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Thursday, July 25, 2013