Bluecheese Breakfast
Tuesday, March 24th, 2009I’ve passed a most marvellous day in Paris, speaking exclusively French, and I must chalk it up to the fact that I began my day with blue cheese and a croissant. Actually, I began the day by sleeping in, simply because I can. THEN I ate the cheese.
Despite the cold weather, I set out for a full day of walking about. My first stop was the Petit Palais’ free permanent collection. It was bite sized, and just right for my attention span. The building itself is impressive, with it’s huge and ornate doors, beautiful gardens and frescoes. Here, though, I learned once again of my low tolerance for guide books and other general information. Somehow, reading all about the artist, or the history of the place, doesn’t really add to my experience when I’m taking in beauty. Even on the streets, it seems every corner, obelisk, bridge and park has some historical significance. I’d have my nose in the book the whole time trying to keep up if I needed to read about it all!
One thing, the first, really, to move me was a sculpture in the Petit Palais called “Ugolin.” The knuckles and toes on this angry fellow had so much tension that it actually made me feel like I ought to recoil.
I moved on to Montmartre and found my favourite bit of Paris, so far. The place has a real character of its own, not to mention a very impressive church (Sacre-Coeur). I don’t know why, but churches here have a real spirit, like they are living beings themselves, that I find lacking at home. The view from the church out onto the city is amazing, and I managed to enjoy it, despite the large group of tourists singing that “ay ay ay ay….” Mexican song right outside the doors.
In the evening, I enjoyed an “Africain” hot chocolate, i.e. a melted pure chocolate “drink”, and very thick. I sat by the octagonal fountain at the Jardin Tullieres, and was enjoying the serentity of the sun set when a half Marseillaise, half Algerian fellow made himself comfortable beside me. We chatted for a full half hour, at least, all in French I’m proud to say. He found my Canadian accent amusing. It was a nice encounter with a pseudo-local. The first of many, I hope. I heeded the advice of a friend to “trust no one” (wink) and left before he could issue a dinner invitation and just after he felt my bicep when I told him I play soccer (???).
I had a few interesting interactions with phone store clerks, again all in my Quebecois French. They seeemed amused but still friendly with me.
I’m off to bed feeling like I’ve spent a very good day indeed in Paris. Tomorrow: the Louvre and the Musee D’Orsay, if all goes well!
blueskies