A New Area of Paris for Us
Following our normal modus operendi, we walked the short distance to the corner for breakfast. In the window, I saw a gentleman with whom I had enjoyed a conversation the other day. He beckoned us in, and we met his wife and chatted about art, photography, and their upcoming move to Berlin where prices, we are told are half those in Paris.
We said we were looking for another neighborhood market, and they told us of one ten or so minutes away. Cards were exchanged and arrangements made to keep in touch and hopefully get together before we left Paris.
On our way to Le Mouffetard, the new-to-us area of the 5e arrondissement we saw a frustrated man stuff this umbrella into the trash. Paris is a windy city, and we often see people walking along with dejected-looking parapluies, reminding me of Wile E. Coyote when Roadrunner has once again thwarted him. Umbrellas cost money, and people keep using them until they’re no longer of any use.
As we walked down Rue Mouffetard, we heard music. A French/American jazz band was playing wonderful, classic music. Strains of Billie Holiday filled the air, along with Ray Charles and other musicians. People were dancing in the streets, normal, we understand.
We had not yet reached the main market are.a, however, so after some photography, we took our leave and continued down la rue. Markets filled each side of the cobbled street, as people dodged one another with their umbrellas. It was another one of those in-and-out days weather-wise.
In a large place by a cathedral, we found traditional French songs and music being performed. Songs I remember from my French professor in school.
A stunning, very-French (said with a French accent, of course) couple danced with great energy and grace. They both could have been professionals, but when I asked them later, they said they were not. When we arrived, it was still raining lightly, and she carried a red umbrella as her partner twirled her around.
Her skirt had beautiful action and reminded me of the materials that one might see in a Twyla Tharp or Paul Taylor production.
The accordion player pretended to be grumpy, but he would show his true colors when he looked at children, me, and other women, and the twinkle would appear in his eyes. He is, after all, French.
The music was winding down, and after some great conversations with both performers and people in the crowd, we moved on to revisit an area that we had not been in for several years. We passed another market where the cheeses looked very tempting.
The wind picked up, and the rains came down in earnest. We took refuge in a chocolate shop. Oh dear! What a terrible place to be caught in a storm!
With the dark skies, there were some great contrasts when the rain let up.
Another wave of wet weather arrived, and since we had been on our feet all day, a sidewalk café looked inviting, and we stopped for a glass of wine under the shelter of the awning. As it rained ahrder, everyone pushed their chairs and tables closer to the building.
For Arnie and me, it was a great vantage point. With the wet pavement, there were subtle reflections, and I liked this women hurrying by with her red umbrella.
We wandered some more, always finding things to photograph.
“What do you like to photograph,” people will ask us.
“Whatever is in front of the camera,” we will respond.
We were tired, and we opted for an early-ish dinner at one of our favorite little places. There was one other person in there, and the three of remarked that it was so unusual to find the restaurant anything but full.
One of the nice things about travel is the encounters one finds with locals. As we ate our appetizers and dinner, sipping an Haut-Medoc Bordeaux, we talked about travel, art, the unusually cold weather in Paris, and other things. It was a lovely way to pass the evening.
We were tired, and we took our leave of the now-full restaurant, two people eyed our table with great interest.
On the way back to the hotel, this door begged to be photographed. I quickly got this shot and was going for a different angle when the lights went out.
“How dare they,” I kiddingly exclaimed to Arnie, and he agreed. “Don’t they know there are photographers outside?”
It was another lovely day in Paris. Tomorrow would be our last full day here.
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Once again, delightful and full of life. I could picture you and Arnie in every setting! Thanks so much for bringing us into your adventures. 🙂
Jeanne,
It has been a wonderful month, and I’m so glad you enjoyed our adventures. Perhaps you’ll join us one year.
Take care,
TBC