Paris Journal 2014 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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As I started walking to the food market one day, I saw a woman standing alone, across the street, as I turned onto the rue Servandoni. “Bonjour, Madame, escusez moi,” she called to me, quietly. I crossed the street so that I could hear her. I thought she probably was going to ask me for some coins, and I was right. She was short, and had lost her teeth. Yet she was well groomed and neatly dressed, with short, darkly dyed hair. She said her daughter had recently died, and she had no one to look after her. She said she needed a little money to get something to eat. “Désolé, je n’ai pas de la monnaie,” I responded, thinking that the smallest denomination I had was a 20-euro bill, which I might need at the market if the vendors’ credit card machines weren’t working. I wished her a good day, and went on to the market. I was sorry that I had no coins. On the way home, I stopped in the Saint Sulpice church to sit and meditate. As my mind emptied of the clutter, I had a vague recollection of putting a few coins in my billfold. That was unusual; almost all summer, I have had no coins in my little zippered billfold. (Note: we do often give coins to beggars, but Tom carries the coins when we’re out together; this time, I was alone. Coins include 1- and 2-euro denominations; the smallest paper bill is a 5-euro note.) I checked it, and voila! There was a euro coin. Not much, but at least it is something. I thought the woman would perhaps still be there, on the rue Servandoni. So I turned toward the exit nearest that street, at the end of the right transept. As I approached the door, I saw her several feet in front of me. She had come into the church, and she didn’t see me. She noticed when I approached and said, “bonjour madame.” I gave her the coin, and she said thanks. She did remember me, but still she was a little surprised. I had forgotten the incident until this morning, when I was doing one of my little volunteer jobs: making and posting on YouTube a video file of a sermon from a DVD my church had mailed to me. Something in Pastor John’s sermon reminded me of my interaction with the woman from the rue Servandoni. I hope assembled enough coins for a good lunch that day. In thinking of churches and lunches, I’m reminded of my friend Roniece. On Fridays, she volunteers with a group of people who make lunch on Fridays, and serve it to the needy at one of the American churches. For a while, they’d done this at the American Church in the 7th arrondissement. But in recent weeks, the group’s Friday Mission Lunch has been at the American Cathedral (an Episcopal church) on the swish avenue Georges V on the right bank. Yesterday afternoon, Roniece posted on Facebook a nice little account about mint that was mysteriously missing from the cathedral’s fridge. It was necessary for the lunch. So she and a colleague donned their aprons and walked up to the luxurious Hotel George V, a short block away. At the kitchen, they asked the chef if he could spare some of his mint. “At first, we didn’t think they would let us in the door,” she wrote. But no, the staff did let them in and gave them “a beautiful bunch of the freshest, greenest mint ever!” Bravo to the Four Seasons Hotel George V and Chef Eric Briffard! I realize that restaurants sometimes commit these courtesies for each other, in a quid pro quo arrangement. But the mission lunch group isn’t a restaurant, and probably could not return the favor to the Hotel George V. Nevertheless, the group was given the same courtesy. Last night we went to our favorite left bank luxury hotel, the Aubusson, to hear live jazz by Christian Brenner and friends once again. Tom went into the hotel’s café to secure our table. Before I could settle down at our table, however, I had a small task. I approached the front desk, and said (entirely in French), “Good evening. My name is Barbara Joy Cooley, and my friend, Deborah L______ stayed here last week. She forgot a skirt; she left it in her room. She asked me to stop by here to pick it up for her.” Deborah and John left Paris on a Viking River Cruise almost a week ago. John emailed me when they realized the skirt had been left behind. I readily agreed to pick it up last night or tonight, when we were there. I resolved the initial difficulty John had in finding an email address for the hotel; by Thursday, the hotel replied that yes, the skirt was there in the lost and found, and that it would be at the front desk for me to pick up. I had a pleasant conversation with the young man at the front desk (entirely in French, although English is spoken generally at the Aubusson). Once names were verified he handed me a plastic bag with the skirt inside and a copy of John’s and my email messages to the hotel taped on the outside. I said thanks, and started to say good evening, but then the young man offered me a gorgeous shopping bag with “Hotel d’Aubusson” embossed on each side. How could I refuse it? It was a much more elegant parcel to stash under our table in Café Laurent than the plastic bag would have been. The music was outstandingly beautiful last night. Accompanying Christian Brenner (piano) were Pier Paolo Pozzi (drums) and Matyas Szandai (bass). Once again, Laurent remembered us and exactly what we order (drinks only at Café Laurent). During the break between sets, we met the interesting woman from Israel who was seated at the table next to us. She used to teach Hebrew, but now teaches journalism, at a university in Haifa. She visits Paris for a week or so every year. Earlier in the evening, we had dined at La Cuisine de Philippe, on the rue Servandoni. I had “discovered” this little bistro two years ago, when it was brand new. It took the place of the former Kiwi, a New Zealand resto. We each skipped the starter course. Tom ordered the magret de canard, which was excellent, and I had a sea bass filet in a creamy sauce with a few veggies and a little risotto. It was superb, and it just melted in my mouth. Oh la la! Philippe specializes in soufflés, so Tom ordered the caramel soufflé, and I had the dessert of the day, a soufflé noisette (nuts). Tom’s was a little too sweet for my taste, but just right for him. I adored the soufflé noisette. After that small feast, we were glad to have the walk up to the rue Dauphine. The streets around the Carrefour de Buci were buzzing and bustling with activity. That was even more true by the time we left the Hotel d’Aubusson, at about 11:30PM. We turned onto the rue de Buci to find it completely blocked by a crowd that had gathered around a group of four break dancers. We’ve seen these kind of street dancers before in various places, but these four young men were the most amazing I’ve seen yet. We marveled at their acrobatics. When a couple of them ripped off their shirts (uh, it was an unusually warm night), the young women next to us screamed in delight. When the little show was over, Tom put a few euros in one of the hats the dancers held out, and we walked on through the crowd, then crossed the broad boulevard Saint Germain. We passed the corner bar at the Marché Saint Germain; it was packed with young adults. Ever since that place opened a few years ago, it has been a popular place for singles to hang out. Turning onto the rue Mabillon, toward the massive Saint Sulpice church, we entered the dark, quiet zone again. As we slipped through the ancient doorway into the courtyard, we soaked in the silence. Amazing, what a difference a few blocks makes!
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Saturday, September 20, 2014
Pigeons like the fountain in the Place Saint Sulpice.
The ceiling at La Cuisine de Philippe retains the
decorations from the former Kiwi restaurant.
Peeking through the doorway to the kitchen, you see three
steps up; the kitchen is actually in a different building from the dining
room. The restrooms are reached by
walking through a courtyard.
Duck breast slices in a honey-based sweet and sour sauce
with veggies, potatoes, and some kind of veggie soufflé chunks.
Sea bass on a little bit of risotto, with a delicious
creamy sauce, a few veggies, and bits of veggie soufflé.
Our dessert soufflés, noisette in the foreground, caramel
in the background. |
