Paris, One Patisserie at a Time
We seem to keep coming back to Paris, so how to keep her fresh and exciting? You can only marvel at the Eiffel Tower and Sacre Coeur so many times.
Our solution - pick a new neighbourhood, draw a 3-block radius around it and don’t go beyond.
We randomly choose Levallouis-Perret, partly because it’s on the north side closer to the airport, and more because of a fabulous AirBnB with a private courtyard and sunroom. And three blocks is the current limit on Sarah’s shiny new 16-day-old knee.
Happiness is 18 Bakeries within Walking Distance
Shopping is a healthy and culturally-immersive Joy, not a convenience. I buy baguettes and almond croissants from two of the 18 nearby bakeries, latte from Sarah’s favourite joint on the corner, cheese from a cheese shop, marinated chicken skewers from a meat shop, fruit from the fruit stand outside the subway stop, the best chocolate mousse of my life at Chapon chocolaterie, flowers from the… well, you get it. I could have hastily grabbed it all from the Carrefours across the street, but why on earth would I do that?!
On our last morning we go one last time to our favourite “French Bastards” for a fresh loaf to carry back to Canada for our son. The baker is so thrilled by this that he grabs a bag and stuffs it full of pastries to also share with our family. Some of the big stores in France do have membership programs that translate as “Fidelity Cards”, but this is loyalty rewards on a personal scale.
100 Shades of Cheese
147, actually. Just this one fromagerie has 147 types of cheese to choose from. I know because one day I wait almost 15 minutes for the couple before me to finish their detailed conversation with the cheese monger about which particular variety is best suited to tonight’s meal, giving me time to count to 147. Ignorant, uncultured Canadian that I am, I couldn’t say which ones I selected or how well they paired with marinated chicken skewers, but it’ll be painful to ever again buy Wisconsin Mild.
1,000 Sad World Cup Fans
It’s not just food stores. On the night of the World Cup semi-finals I stop by just ten of the closest bars and restaurants showing Les Bleus, their beloved national team that has looked unbeatable until now. Tables and chairs spill out into the streets, surrounded by more fans like me standing and craning our necks.
Sadly, what should have been a loud raucous party is instead a subdued, funereal affair as the French are convincingly manhandled by a far superior Spanish squad. Even when a car slows down to honk victoriously, flaunting a Spanish flag and loud Spanish music, no-one even yells or throws a baguette at him. They’ve been whumped good and they know it.
Bastille Day
On July 14 I ditch Sarah and burst past the 3-block barrier to join the multitudes celebrating the 1789 storming of the Bastille prison, the collapse of royal tyranny and the end of the old absolute monarchy.
Like a dog finally released after straining against his leash, I bound towards the Arch de Triumph in long loping strides. Then stop dead in my tracks as old military planes fly in low formation over the city, a chilling reminder of wartime bombing of European cities that I’ve seen so often in movies. They seem to pass by so slowly, ominously, and it’s impossible to not imagine those hatch doors opening in their beastly bellies to release their deadly, impersonal bombs.
Back on the street, long processions of brown tanks and army vehicles are lined up waiting to join the parade. Grown men and their (mostly boy) children are gleefully welcomed on board, climbing up into the gunner’s platform to imagine releasing the swivel machine gun onto the crowds around them. It’s an invisible line between celebrating freedom and glorifying violence.
So we miss Montmartre and Champs d’Elysees this trip. Instead, for one week we get intimate with one postage stamp neighbourhood. Three blocks to the physio, ½ block to French Bastards, should we turn left down by So-So Cookies or right up past the little park? Ridiculous little dogs, women with their morning baguettes, students pulling airport-style bags on wheels instead of backpacks. Even a friendly wave from an upper balcony. This is Paris at its least overwhelming and most overwelcoming.
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Currently in...
Moncton, New Brunswick for a month of post-knee-replacement rehab (Sarah's) with our lovely Galen and his fiance Cai.
Heading to...
Newfoundland, Uruguay, Chile, Easter Island, Carnival!, Monteverde. Please share any sites, people or ideas by email.
Salivating over the photos of the variety of cheeses and pastries available. Thanks for sharing.