Arnie and I had two more days in Paris after la Fête de la Musique. A bit sluggish getting up the next morning, we had a late breakfast around the corner at a sidewalk café before heading back towards the river through le Jardin du Luxembourg.

There was a boules tournament, so we stopped to take in the event. We have watched this game, also known as petanque, enough so that we can pretty much home in on the good teams. We found one, and it turned out that one of the players was a fellow professional photographer.

He had spied our pro equipment immediately and struck up a conversation with us between sets. Because he had singled us out for conversation, we also had exchanges with one of his teammates who, as it turned out, probably ran the whole tournament.

We watched “our” team progress up through the ranks. They were older and cagier than some of the younger teams, and it served them well. When opposing teams had boules that looked to be tied, measuring tapes came out to determine the closest one. Eventually, in the quarter finals, I think, they lost. It was a close match.

Disappointed, we ambled on. In many Parisian gardens, there are a number of chess tables set up. Some matches are played with timers, speed chess, they call it. We found some men playing both kids of chess under a covered pavilion, and we watched them for a while. This pair was playing regular chess, deliberating over each play. One man would start for a piece, hand hovering over the”board” until he changed his mind and retracted it to rethink his next move. People wandered in like us, observed for a while, then moved on. There was a manificent statue in the garden that I liked. Nestled in the shrubbery, it looked contemplative.

Where we had visited the poetry festival yesterday, there was now a photo exhibit. It was fun browsing the books. Some were quite valuable, and we handled them reverently. Arnie found a first edition of Robert Frank’s The Americans. To be able to leaf through it was a privilege. No one lurked over us. They could see that we respected these amazing books. We asked the price and gulped when we heard the answer. It was certainly fair, but not in our budget!

We walked back into the park and across to explore the other side. There was a great view of la Place du Panthéon behind a statue at the top of some broad steps. I liked the way the view was foreshortened with the allée between the statue and la Place not showing.

Unfortunately for me, all the tourists wanted a more common variation of part of the scene, sometimes with their family and friends in front of the statue. Every time I clicked the shutter, someone would come in from the right or from the left up above. I shoot with both eyes open to try and reduce such frustrations, but I was thwarted at every attempt. As the steps cleared off, a group would fill in and gather in front of the statue, all rears to me. Not quite what I had in mind!

Eventually, we got down to the river and returned to the I.M. Pei fountains at the Louvre. It was delicious sitting there in the heat of the afternoon, taking turns lying down and napping while the other watched out gear. Not that people weren’t honest and open and friendly, but it only takes one thief to spoil a photographer’s trip.

We went to the restaurant that our boules photographer had recommended. It was quite delicious, but while we enjoyed our meal and the great service, we thought it quite pricey for what we got. We’ll stick to our favorites and explore new possibilities next year.

After supper, photographing the Seine at night was irresistible, and we found ourselves on the Pont des Arts, bracing ourselves against whatever we could find to hold our cameras still. Cities do not look kindly these days on people with tripods sans the requisite permits. Since permits are a pain to acquire and long in coming, we stuck to hand holding our gear.

La Samaritaine, one of the oldest department stores not only in Paris, but Europe, stood magestically above the Pont Neuf and boat reflections in the Seine. Some of the river tourist boats used this area of the river to turn around and head back to their starting point.

To the right, houseboats were lined up along the quay, looking beautiful in the night light pointing their bows upriver to Île de la Cité and one of our favorite parks. I’ve always yearned to rent a houseboat for a year and ply the various rivers and canals of Europe. What a wonderful way to see this part of the world. You load up a couple of beater bikes (good ones can be stolen), your clothing, and you are all set. Any stopping point has a market or shops where you can pick up food and wine. What more could one want?

The Pont des Arts was filled with people enjoying the beautiful evening. Others used the bridge to simply cross the river, perhaps stop for a moment or two to take in the scene and enjoy the views. Behind them loomed the beautiful Palais de l’Institut.

I am always amazed at these cameras these days. 1/25 second with the wind howling and buffeting us, and clear as the proverbial bell. Wow! And I keep reminding myself of the old days, not all that terribly long ago, when I would travel for two months on a trip with Fuji film and not have the foggiest idea if it would all came out (luckily, it always did).

I was getting chilly, as the forecast did not predict such windy and raw fare when we selected clothing for the whole day that morning. And it was late. The bridge was empty; the benches clear. The scene was only marred by a lone trash bag blowing in the brisk winds. We headed back to our digs and crashed.

The next day after a leisurely breakfast in our pension, we headed back to Jardin du Luxembourg. I still wanted that shot! Perhaps earlier in the day, I would have better luck. Again, every time I clicked the shutter, there was an unwanted intrusion in the frame. I decided the situation was akin to water seeking its own level or probably more like a woman’s purse that defies being empty. This location did not want to be free of people by the statue and the steps at the same time. The statue would clear and I would quickly trip the shutter only to find there was another gaggle of tourists that had slipped in. While being frustrated, I really could not complain. While I have French ancestors, I had no more claim to the city than anyone else.

When my shot was finally clear of people, the light wasn’t right for what I wanted. Finally, I gave up, ran up the steps, and got a shot. Nothing much, only a grab shot, but at least a reminder of what might have been!

We meandered in the direction of one of our favorite parks, this one on the downriver side of Île de la Cité. We had been on Pont des Arts last night, so we hung around Pont Neuf with its newly-cleaned façade. Watching the various wide Bateaux Mouche, Bateaux Parisian, and other tourist boats, I marveled at how their captains navigated against a strong river current through arches not much wider than their boats.

Pont Neuf, contrary to its name “New Bridge,” is Paris’ oldest standing bridge across the Seine. It was also the first bridge constructed without houses on it. Actually, it is two bridges connecting the right and left banks together at Île de la Cité in the middle. (See nighttime shots above.) Along with Pont Alexandre III, it is also considered one of the most beautiful. Opened in 1607, the bridge, it was innovative with its curved meeting places at each “footing” where one could sit and socialize. We enjoyed the architecture of the bridge, the recently-cleaned stonework, and the views through the arches.

After doing some more photography, we headed down to the park. I’m particularly fond of this park, as one can sit along the quay, dangling one’s feet over the edge, or one can take shelter in the shade on one of many park benches with ample views of the river. As we headed down the steps, there were a couple of interesting views.

After an hour or so at the park, we headed off for la Samaritaine (where Henri took me many years ago) to replenish my perfume that had been discontinued for years. It turned out to be another exercise in futility, since the perfume houses understandably had only the popular brands and couldn’t and/or wouldn’t give me directions to the House of Givenchy.

In our thwarted search for my perfume, we did see a great example of the wonderfully ornate Art Deco Metro signs, and I did a few shots. It wasn’t, however, worth spending any more time looking for Givenchy, and we were hungry. As we headed back to the Rue de Rivoli to find something to eat, my eye caught a simple shot, a straw hat nestled into a rack at the entrance to a restaurant. I couldn’t resist stopping.

We found a sandwich/lunch place with very reasonable prices, so we stocked up and headed over to the shade of Jardin des Tuileries to enjoy our picnic.

We looked across the park toward the Louvre, and thoughts of sitting by the pools again was very appealing. We immediately shed our shoes (flip-flops for me) and stuck our feet in the refreshing water. Couples were delighted when we took pictures of them with their cameras. We watched families enjoying Paris, including an Asian one that took advantage of the slant of one of the smaller I.M. Pei pyramids.

Eventually, we left to once again walk along the river where we found what was obviously a student photographer doing an assignment. Is subject was a very disinterested and stilted “bride” in a gorgeous dress. The poses he had her strike had nothing to do with a happy bride. He never checked the hem of the dress to make sure it was not tucked under. We were amused, and did a few shots of our own!

There was one last shot in Paris that grabbed my eye. A little shop we passed had the most colorful display of yarns, bags, scarves, pillows, and trinkets that I had ever seen. It was a riot of color, and I couldn’t resist stopping.

Alas, we had to pack for tomorrow’s early-morning departure to Charles de Gaulle, and we wanted to organize our things so we could enjoy a relaxing supper.

Since many of the restaurants are closed on Monday, we looked for simpler fare and found a great little mom-and-pop pizza place nearby that was excellent.

We lingered over a last glass of wine as we chatted about the workshop, our time in Paris, and our plans for next year’s workshop.

Adieu, Paris, La Ville-lumière! Nous reviendrons l’année prochaine! Farewell, Paris, the City of Light! We’ll be back next year!

And so, we will! As noted last week, the dates are already listed on our website’s calendar.

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