La vie quotidienne

Almost everything about daily life in Paris is inefficient. Fortunately, it's a fairly pleasant sort of inefficiency, like the uncommon kind of airline inefficiency that keeps you in Maui an extra day. Traffic is often snarled up, so the morning commute is long unless you take the subway (fairly pleasant) or live close enough to walk or bike to work (even more pleasant). Evening meals take, well, all evening. In conversation, if a group of people are talking and someone approaches the group, everyone stops to shake his hand (if he's a guy) or do the double kiss on the cheek (if she's a girl). Then they all start talking again. And the French do like to talk!

Even the language itself is pleasantly inefficient--so many letters go unpronounced, with so many words just to say one idea. Take the word "today" for example: "aujourd'hui" is actually a contraction of 5 different words. "At the day of today". Apparently when the ancient French linguists were inventing words, the word they came up with for "today" (hui) sounded exactly like the word they came up with for "yes" (oui). So they added the clarifying phrase aujourd', made up of au (a contraction of "a la" or at the), jour (day), and d' (of or from). Confusing? You bet!

Undaunted by the inefficiencies, we set out (on foot) yesterday afternoon for St. Germain de Pres, a lovely left bank quarter in the 6th arrondissment with loads of restaurants, shops, and parks. From our hotel, it's a 30 minute stroll through the Marais (our neighborhood) along the rue de Rivoli, down to the Seine river, over the pont d'arcole bridge onto the Ile de la Cite, right past the front of Notre Dame church, and off the island across the bridge to the left bank. From there it's a short jaunt to Blvd. Saint Germain where all the action is.

I had noticed earlier that Beth's nice sunglasses were a little crooked on her face (she likes them alot and uses them all the time). We bought them last year at a little opticien shop on Blvd. Saint Germain owned by Serge Wajeman. Serge was very glad to see us again (I'm not really sure he recognized us, but he acted like we were good friends). He adjusted the sunglasses and sold me a tiny pair of reading glasses to carry in my pocket for those french menus. Last year he had recommended a restaurant to us, Chez Fernand, a block from St. Sulpice church (made infamous in The Da Vinci Code as the site of a nun's murder). We remembered having a lovely meal there, and asked him for directions again, since we had gotten a little lost trying to find it last year.

He said it was simple to get there. When his written instructions ran to the 3rd line of the paper, I said it didn't seem all that simple to me. Much to our amazement, he promptly locked the door of his shop and proceeded to walk us to the restaurant. It was around closing time anyway, he said, and since he lived nearby, it was no trouble for him. After a rather labyrinthine route, we found the church (it has a beautiful Italianate facade), and the restaurant. After shaking hands with him several times and promising to come see him before we left Paris, he left for his nearby apartment. We made reservations at Chez Fernand for the table in the front (for people watching purposes), and continued shopping. It was 7:15, and only 2 couples were in the restaurant, both of them probably Americans.

We stumbled on a delightful little shop on rue Gregoire de Tours called Artisanats des Monasteres de Bethleem that sells statues, bas reliefs, and creches. We found a beautiful manger scene of a larger size made of dolomie, a resin and crushed rock material. The statues are fairly heavy, and total 14 including Mary, Joseph, and the Child, the Magi, the shepherds, and assorted stable animals. We tried to figure out a way to get the whole entourage home, but gave up reluctantly, at least for now.

We returned to Chez Fernand where we were welcomed to the front table and served quite enthusiastically and briskly by several young men in aprons. It was 8:30 and the restaurant was chock full. Beth had a thick andalusian gazpacho soup with baguettes that I shared with her. We then had a risotto of lobster meat and bisque-like sauce of the house, a filet mignon of pork with au gratin potatoes in an herbed brown gravy sauce with mustard, and for dessert (you aren't a bit surprised, are you?) a fondant au chocolat and a tarte aux abricots with a little bit of vanilla ice cream. As usual, our evening meal took, well, all evening.

We were there for several hours, just talking and people-watching. Apparently we pulled a coup getting the front table, because the most well-dressed Parisian couples kept standing outside the restaurant looking at us jealously and talking in hushed tones. When they realized that we weren't going anywhere, they reluctantly ducked inside and took another table. For our entire stay, the table next to us was filled with couples who never stopped talking. When one was chewing, the other was talking and vice versa. Like I said, the French really like to talk. If you were unkind, you might suggest that I'd fit in very well here. And I would.

Tomorrow: bridges and gardens...