Days 04 – Le 5e Arrondissement

We have always loved the 5th Arrondissement in Paris. The city is divided into some 20 arrondissements, or administrative districts. The 5th is an artsy area, full of galleries and cafés. This is one of the areas my Granny frequented. Discussions over the curled smoke of the still-omnipresent cigarettes (although it is getting much better and not allowed inside buildings), a quiet hour or so with a coffee and a good book, a meeting for lunch, and always, the hustle bustle of business passing everyone by.

There are also quiet doorways, visually leading you to some upstairs retreat or soirée.

We ended up on Pont des Arts again. It is a marvelous place to people watch. Businessmen walk briskly by, briefcases in hand. Parents dangle small tots between them. Old men stroll with little frou-frou dogs that perhaps belong to their wives. Lovers are entwined, oblivious of anyone else around.

There is life on this bridge against a handsome backdrop of architecture, in this case, Institut de France. And yes, you may recognize Arnie in there.

I put the camera down and just caught legs and feet against the locks mentioned in an earlier blog.

The sun appeared in the late afternoon and outlined two old friends chatting outside, cigarette smoke curling upwards and fortunately not near me.

We mentioned the plethora of galleries, and the other day, we passed by a gallery that was featuring Steve McCurry’s work. Steve McCurry worked for National Geographic and produced some stunning and memorable images … the girl in Afghanistan, young but wary at such a tender age and later, old at 30, the camels being pulled by their owners in a dust storm, the backlit platform at a train station. I had met Steve many years ago, and we have mutual friends. I asked him if he would share a few words with our participants. It was interesting, because he reinforced all the principles that Arnie and I keep telling our group. But it was also interesting to note that when I asked him about the process of making images and the importance of light, it took him a bit aback, because he does it so instinctively, he doesn’t really think about the process. He also talked about patience and starting with an idea.

It was a real treat to see him again after several decades, and we chatted briefly about mutual friends before heading off. I did not feel right about photographing the gallery with his work in it, but there was the bronze work of a Spanish artist, and I did capture just a portion of one of his whimsical bulls.

Everyone felt it was half past wine o’clock, so we returned to the restaurant of the previous evening. Another fabulous meal, and Arnie and I shared a baked camembert salad, and once again, I had the steak tartare. Our waiter recognized us right away. He reminded me of a blond Danny Kay with a spritely attitude, a droll and mobile face full of expression.

When he brought my tartare, it sat there on my plate with an oeuf (egg) nested in it. What? No mixing?

I went inside and did a teasing pout, saying that the egg looked very lonely in its nest. Our waiter laughed and said he would be right out, and much to the delight of both our table and those nearby, he mixed my tartare as he had done before, and without being asked to do a design, did another heart. It was busy at the restaurant, so no arrow, but the fact that he remembered was wonderful, and the meal was a lovely way to end the day.

We headed back to the hotel, and for all of us, sleep came quickly.

Next: La Fête de la Musique …

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