Wonderful Paris

The apartment is comfortable — small, but I have everything I need. Well, I don't have a fridge in the little kitchen, so I'm limited on what I can buy, but I can make it work. Today I stopped at one of the open-air fruit markets and bought some tangerines, grapes and bananas, and last night I bought 1/2 dozen eggs (eggs are not refrigerated in France), and I've located some little patisseries and bakeries that also sell sandwiches and inexpensive salads that I can pick up and bring home. I'm happy to be returning to more of my routine, food-wise. I'll have a big lunch every day and have my egg for breakfast and light suppers. You may have noticed from the photo of me in the red blouse that I've put on several pounds. I'm not beating myself up about it — it was bound to happen, eating all those large dinners at Jacqueline's every night, and practically every cafe serves frites (french fries) with their lunches, and the menu of the day always includes a delicious dessert. I'll continue to allow myself a nice lunch, enjoying whatever is on the menu, but simply having a boiled egg in the morning, and cutting back on big meals at night will help.

I had a wonderful day today. Paris is rainy and cold, and I am here with light-weight blouses, a very light sweater, a light jacket and a raincoat. So, the first thing I did after leaving the apartment today was to find a little shop I had passed yesterday and go in and try on a hat. I ended up buying the hat I saw in the window yesterday — a beige woollen hat with a little flower on it — super warm, and a bit stylish. I figured that, since 80% of the body's heat goes off the head, that if I can keep my head warm, the rest of me should be okay.

I walked and walked all day today. I did some shopping — found some nice postcards and some little souvenirs, tried on a few coats and sweaters, but no success there. I had a nice lunch — frogs' legs, a delicious chicken dish with mashed potatoes, and strawberries and cream for dessert. I was up and down and all around the Boulevard St. Germain. I lost track of the boulevard a couple of times; once, wandering past a church, I was stopped by a gentleman who was inviting people to come in for the service. We had a really nice, long conversation about the church (and I even understood most of it!!!) and when he asked me my religion, he had no comprehension of "Episcopalian." He said "ah, Presbyterian!" and then I tried to explain "L'eglise d'Angleterre" and he acted as if he knew what I was talking about, but I don't think he really did. He ended up giving me a religious medal related to a miracle at Lourdes and I told him I would return for a service on another day.

I am having much more success in being understood in Paris. I honestly don't know what the problem was in the south of France. Well, Jacqueline told me that she sometimes has a difficult time in being understood there, so there IS a regional difference. I had the most difficult time in communicating even the most simple information. For example, when I was asked where I was staying in Aix, I replied "Le Jardin de Marie." I had to repeat it two or three times, and the woman actually ended up asking me to spell it! And then another experience really took the cake. I was in a little cafe and ordered a beer, saying the name "Monaco," while pointing directly to it on the menu, and the waiter said "Leffe?" which was the beer on the line above. So, obviously, the problem was NOT all me!

But in Paris, it has been quite different. Perhaps it's a regional thing, and my accent is more closely related to the Parisian way of speaking, or it could be that they are more used to understanding the tourists who are butchering their language, or maybe I'm just so happy to be in Paris that my tongue has mysteriously untied itself. I've had several interchanges with sales people today and all of them seemed to understand me. So that makes me feel a whole lot better.

One of the highlights of my day was being in the upper rooms of Shakespeare and Company and finding an old, 1928 edition of a book by E.M. Delafield. She is an author I discovered about 25 years ago — Prairie Lights in Iowa City had some editions that had been reprinted; however, she has written a lot of other things that are currently out of print, and what a joy to pick up a book and see her name on the spine! It was just a great little moment. I took it down, with a little $2 Wilde title to pay for it, but unfortunately, it was not for sale. It is part of their reading library, and if I want to read it, I'll have to return and sit and read it there. (WHAT an inconvenience.) I told the young man at the cash register exactly where I had found it at the store, and he said he would do his best to put it back so I could hopefully find it again. The tiny rooms and corridors of the place were absolutely mobbed with people. It was very difficult to browse the titles, having to move out of everybody's way every 15 seconds or so.

I ended the day with a free organ concert at Notre Dame. It was sublime. This was part of their free concert series, wherein guest organists come from all over the world. Tonight's concert was given by Alexander Gorin, from Tel Aviv, who played some Bartholdy and some Bach (which didn't sound like the Bach I know — it was very soft and quiet).

A concert at Notre Dame. How does one describe the experience of being inside, listening to the organ in the body of Notre Dame, like the pulsating heart of a living being, transporting us in the night, as I imagined the stone sensing the sound — alive, somehow — and in my mind's eye, seeing the exterior of the cathedral in lights, while sitting inside and feeling the cathedral inside myself as well. Walking home, stopping on the bridge to see that sublime sight, that magnificent spot on the planet, and being a part of it in this moment in time.