Rainy Sunday

I'd set the clock for 8:50am so I would wake to call Alex in time. 9:30am came and the alarm had not gone off. I phoned Alex and his mother answered. She spoke perfect English, explaining that Alex would be back at 2pm and to call back then.

After showering and starting the laundry, we set off on our day. Forgetting to bring Alex's number along, we retreated: I for the studio to get the number, and John to the corner boulanger for croissants. Again we headed out, on foot, for Pere Lachaise, a long block or so away. The weather turned drizzley today and we were glad to have our umbrellas for once. (Okay, John was happy to have his, but my technicolored umbrella turned out to be a bit of an embarrassment for him!)

One isn't ready for the sheer monstrosity of Pere Lachaise. The cemetary is divided into districts, of how many, I cannot be sure as we didn't buy a map. (At 2E it would have been well worth the cost). In between each little district lay cobblestone footpaths or drives. Very few cars ventured here. Whereas we fond Collette's tomb nearly by accident, it took us about thirty extra minutes of walking to find Jim Morrison's. I guess the prudent thing to do would have been to merely follow anyone our age or younger, especially if they were toting a map along with them.

Collette's grave was decorated with fresh flowers and, oddly, fresh chestnuts. I wonder if they were a known favorite of hers, or, if her grave had become something of a shrine, like Jim Morrisson's? Jim's grave was merely covered in flowers, but there was a bar in front of his grave to keep people out. I wondered how the flowers arrived on his grave being that it was impossible to approach it?

Having our fill of the dead, and John still feeling no less immortal for having visited this army of dead, we set out buying our daily carte Mobilis, and hopped onto the metro no 2 heading north west towards the Arc di Triomphe. On the way, I suggested to John (with a wink) that maybe we should stop by Pigalle to see what it was like but the train map said that the train wasn't currently stopping at Pigalle. John seemed to want to exit prematurely, so I suggested that perhaps we should get off at Sacre Couer, which we did.

Sacre Couer is very close to the metro exit. Out of the metro, and straight up the hill, in fact. Before the journey up the hill, we stopped for sandwiches at a street vendor (un sandwich avec trois fromage et tomate, et un sandwich avec saumon....yum!). As we started up the stairs to the Byzantine domed church, we were met by a group of Jamaican brothers who wanted to play some sort of string trick on us. They were rather aggressive & persistant, but I kept saying "pardon!" and tried to walk around them. Of course whatever they were doing was contructed to separate me from some of my money, so I manuevered around them and continued up the hill.

Sacre Couer itself was quite beautiful, for a modern cathedral-like construction. The sheer scale of it was quite impressive, and especially noteworthy was the huge domed area in the center. Many say it is a dissapointment, but it IS beauiful in its own right, and the views of Paris make it worth the journey. The crypt below can be accessed for a fee of 5E but we passed. Behind Sacre Couer is a cute little village area, but it is jammed full of shops and restaurants that exist solely for tourists. Adjacent to Sacre Couer is a very nice church,probably 400 to 600 years old. The odd thing about this church is that the stained glass windows were all done by a cubist artist. I'll have to do some research to find out who redid the windows as they most certainly weren't original!

By now the weather had picked up. We realized it was time to call Alex and went off in search of a telephone. An oddity here in Paris, which we soon came to realize,is that there are absolutely no public telephones that accept currency. In order to make a call, you either need to buy a telephone card (260 minutes for 7.5E) or find a shop that will let you make telephone calls (sometimes internet shops have this service). The fee for making a call this way was 0.15E/minute. Outrageous? Yes, but when you're desperate, what the hell?

I finally got ahold of Alex. We both agreed that it was too late to meet today and decided, instead, to meet Tuesday at 11am at Trocadero Square at the metro exit. (Trocadeo is across the Seine from the Eiffel Tower). When the call was done, we bought a phone card for future use and were off yet again. We hopped back on No. 2 heading west and exited at Charles de Gaulle metro stop to see the Arc Du Triomphe. I wasn't really prepapred for how large this monument is. Like the Louvre, I envisioned this monument being much much smaller than it is in real life. It is a mass of stone that literally dwarfts those that stand beneath. There are a few plaques on the ground honoring those that served in various wars as well as one for the "unknown soldier" with a perpetual flame. A worker constantly cleaned the floor plaques from water and debris with a straw broom, a veritible task of Sisyphus, if you ask me.

There's not much around the Arc except the haunts of the fashionista...very few easily accessible restaurants, so back onto the metro we went, this time hopping aboard the No. 1 towards the Marais. We got off long enough to see the Place Vendome and the Parc directly in front of the Louvre. The weather had turned dismal and John was feeling tired and grumpy, so we headed onto the Marais (St.Paul stop) where we could grab a bite and rest a bit.

Being that the Marais is literally the Jewish quarter, we were sure to find a place to eat. The rest of Paris seems to shut down on Sundays due to a combination of union pressure and traditional Catholic values, but not here. Here in the Marais, the streets are FULL of people shopping, dining, having tea, and just socializing. We found a deli restaurant called Chez Marianne and sat down for dinner. John ordered an assiette du saumon (18E?) and a chimay (6E)...and I ordered a mezza with four items (12E) and a gamay (2.8E) John's plate of salmon, although quite a bit of salmon, was quite boring....it really lacked what we consider normal garnishings for salmon: onion, cornichons, capers, etc. Instead, his nearly 1/4 pound of salmon was garnished with a lemon wedge, four kalamata olives, and a basket of bread. Not quite what we expected. My mezza had four falafel balls, a small chunk of feta, hummous with way too much tahini, and a babaganouj that resembled anything but babaganouj. I think that the main ingredient of the babaganouj was sour cream...not sure where they got their recipe from. It was quite tasty, but couldn't help thinking it was something that I simply should not be eating being that I am allergic to milk. (Yes, I am eating cheese here, but I'm also picking my allergy battles as I choose them).

After dinner we walked around the corner to Sacha Finkelsztajn, La Boutique Jaune Patissier (42-72-78-91, 4e- 27 Rue de Rossiers). This is an amazing Jewish bakery that specializes in a number of traditional baked goods.They have three or more kinds of cheesecake (gateau fromage) that look like they are to die for. We forgot that they had tables inside where one could sit and enjoy the pastries...which would have been far preferred to the dinner we just had. But they didn't have what I was looking for in terms of dessert, so we continued on down the street to another bakery. This street (Rue de Rossiers) has at least 4 bakeries that all contain amazing baked goods. We settled on 2 croissants for morning as well as a piece of Sacher (chocolate cake) for dessert later on tonight.

Again on foot, we went in search of bus No. 96. Bus No.96 is our friend. It takes us from home to the Marais, to the left bank, and home again. So it is 8:05pm as I close and John is fast asleep in bed. The laundry is drying in the kitchen, french weather lady chattering away on the tv, and I think I can get away with that entire Sacher cake without waking John. Snicker....

PS. The Sacher cake was dried out. Should have stuck with the original bakery.
Sigh.