The things people say

August 1, 2017 -- The things people say are a continuing source of amusement for us as we move through Paris.  We were walking along the rue Norvins on Montmartre, into the thick crowd of tourists and hawkers in the Place du Tertre when I heard an American dad explain to his son, who didn’t see the point in wasting time in a touristy area: “We are just taking in the neighborhood – seeing what the neighborhood is like.”

Sacre Coeur

I’d have to side with the son on this one; the quaint Montmartre neighborhood is not really exemplified by the crazy Place du Tertre, which is not a normal place.  That's one reason we start our Montmartre walks at Lamarck-Caulaincourt.

Later, we heard another American man as we walked past the terrace of a brasserie.  In plain, ordinary American English, he said to the waiter, “What’s your favorite meal on this menu?”  Watch out, I thought.  The server just might say “la tete du veau.”  Actually, I like tete du veau, but I eat unusual things for an American.  I’d recommend that the American man spend a little more time trying to understand the menu.

Statue of the legendary Saint Denis in the Square Suzanne Buisson.

Evidently, people have been saying weird stuff in Paris for a long time.  According to a historical plaque that we at the Square Suzanne Buisson, way back in Merovingian times, priests told tales to help evangelize the region.  One that they loved to embellish was the story of Saint Denis, the legendary first bishop and missionary sent by Pope Clement.  The tales told are so varied that they have St. Denis and the priest Eleuthere being killed in at least four places in the city in 273.  In 840, the Abbot Hiduin relayed the legend, with great success, of “cephalophoria”; he said that, without stopping his preaching, Saint Denis collected his severed head and carried it up to this fountain.  Hence, the statue of Saint Denis holding his head stands over the fountain in this little park.

Beautiful apartment building on rue Jean Baptiste Pigalle.  (Autostitch panorama)

It was my idea to take the metro to the back side of Montmartre, to the Lamarck-Caulaincourt station, and to walk over the hill and all the way back home -- one of our longest walks of the summer so far.

After passing over the peak of the hill at Sacre Coeur, we took the many many steps down hill to the rue de Steinkerque, which was so thick with people walking toward Sacre Coeur that we could barely thread our way down to the boulevard de Rochouart.  I was surprised to see so many people on a Monday; I deliberately selected a Monday for this walk because I know how crowded Montmartre can be on weekends.  Oh well.

The walk was all downhill from there.  We enjoyed having a little more elbow room as we sauntered down the boulevard to the Place Pigalle, where we veered off onto the rue Jean Baptiste Pigalle.  I was delighted by the sight of a beautiful Haussmannian apartment building with particularly beautiful flower boxes on along two of its upper level apartments.

The church of Sainte Trinite

When we reached the church of Sainte Trinité, we entered.  This is such a beautiful place!  I silently took many photographs (no flashes, not ever, in churches!).  I don’t even allow my camera to make a beep or a click.

The grounds in front of this church are now a park with a playground.  It was alive with families with kids.

As we continued our downhill trek on the rue de Mogador, we were amused to see a theater of the same name, featuring a long-running production of that classic musical, Grease.  Tom said, “I should see if they need a drummer!”  He played the drums for the Sanibel School’s production of that musical.

Sainte Trinite church.

Now we were in a chic shopping area, and the crowds grew thicker again.  We walked along the boulevard des Capucines and wandered into a Henckels kitchen supply store.  We’ve been looking for a set of measuring spoons for the apartment’s kitchen.  We checked out a store in the Cour St. Emilion, and now this store in the 9^th arrondissement.  So far, we’ve found no measuring spoons.  And I’m surprised the apartment’s kitchen doesn’t have any – it seems to have everything else.

All I can surmise so far is that instead of spoons, French kitchens use small shot glasses with lines marking off centiliters and ounces.  Maybe Christian Vivet or Isabelle Houry can enlighten me about this.

La Madeleine

After walking past La Madeleine, we turned onto the rue Royale.  We walked through the vast Place de la Concorde, a place that Tom always proclaims as “too monumental.”  I had fun rotating in place as I recited all the names, in Parisian French, of all the monuments I could see from there.  I did this dance several times, using the sweetest French voice I could muster.

At last it was 4PM as we crossed the Seine in front of the National Assembly building.  Tea time!  We could take a break at Le Bourbon, amid the deputies and their staffs.  We like Le Bourbon for being a classy brasserie and for its view of the Place du Palais Bourbon, the great space behind the National Assembly building.

Tom had a café gourmand and I had a glass of rosé and lots of sparking water.  Fortified, we were able to take a look at the sourvenir boutique for the National Assembly.  I appreciated the sense of humor and bipartisanship (tripatisanship?) displayed in the items sold.  For example, you could buy red “right” oven mits, or blue “left” oven mits.  Same for socks.  Blue, white, and red multi-colored fold-out paper chickens were also on sale.  So were mugs that said “vote pour moi” (vote for me), buttons that said vote for, and some that said vote against.  All of it was presented in the spirit of good fun.

We still had enough energy that we were able to make it home along the rue Saint Dominique, the Esplanade des Invalides, and the avenue de la Motte Picquet.   

Annapurti

Annapurti

At home, we rested for a short while, and then walked (once again!) to Annapurti, our new favorite Indian resto in Paris.  This was the last night before Annapurti’s annual vacation closure.  When we arrived, the owner told us nicely that there was no lamb.  I understood why; Rungis (wholesale supply market) was closed on Monday, and besides, the resto was going to be closed for a month.

No problem.  This Indian restaurant is so good that I trust them with fish.  After a chicken tikka starter, Tom had the biryani with prawns, and I had a fish masala.  All of it was excellent.  So far, Annapurti seems flawless.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s tale about an adventure into a French medical laboratory!