Well, it was Dirk’s first full day in Paris, and we made the most of it. Completely off the record, it took a little bit of mental acclimatization for me when he showed up. He is a dear friend, and if we were to tour Paris with anyone, it would be him. He’s relentlessly cheerful, energetic and always the first to say “hey, let’s try doing this”. He is one of our airplane pilot friends, and has a little red aerobatic airplane he’ll take us up in from time to time. So, courteous, generous, funny and a delight to be around. Yet, he’s a tad of a third wheel, I’m afraid. I feel awful saying this, because I do like him so much, but until now, this had been our Parisian second honeymoon, and now it’s more like three friends being tourists. He’s completely American, with an apologetic lack of French, so all those times we used to chat up the locals in fractured “Franglais” are rather gone. I think people are less willing to chat up a group than a couple, anyway. So, we’re in “tour group” mode now, with a charging ahead plan of taking in all the sights. Well, could be worse, but I do miss the lingering over tea for hours in brasseries with Oxy.
Well, if Oxy could put up with me and my writer friend in England, I can hang about with the fellows. We were typically male-ish goal oriented, starting with a hike up Montmartre to see the sunrise.
Dirk went about snapping some astounding photos (he’s much better than I, but does it commercially, so I am afraid I can’t post them). I met a nice old gentleman with a dog that reminded me entirely too much of Puppy, down to the way she’d sit as his feet waiting patiently for him to throw the ball. I complemented him on his belle chou-chou, then it was off to a café for croissants while we waited for the Basilica to open.
The Basilica was worth the wait. It was a long climb up, but at that hour, it was free of crowds. Actually, it was only the three of us! Words can’t describe, so hopefully these pictures will. The staircase was wonderfully claustrophobic,
then suddenly *boom* there we were, up on the roof tops.
Eventually, we wound our way up to the dome proper, with the sound of nuns singing in the distance (hammer dulcimer and voice). I forgot to mention that we had tried to sneak into the back during the morning service in order to hear their voices, but Dirk and his camera ways got us quickly shooed out rolleyes Well, I didn’t want to intrude on their privacy, anyway. I guess they have a lot of time to practice, because what we could hear sounded literally angelic.
The dome is the second highest point in Paris, next to the Eiffel Tower, and is far prettier if you ask me (although tourists and locals have put their share of graffiti on the inside sad )
The 12th century Church used before the Sacre Coeur was built in the late 19th century
The Bell Tower
Then it was downtown to a church that had advertised a free harpsichord concert.
Well, instead it was Xinerca, a one man act, but we were hardly disappointed. He plays a two hundred year old cittern (NOT a replica eek !) and has a voice that filled the entire medieval church with his arrangements of secular and religious melodies from the Troubadour times to the classical period.
Wow. He’s kinda cute, too razz Anyway, Oxy, ever my dearest love, talked to him afterwards. Oxy does classical concert organizing, and might just be able to get him to come out to Southern California for a gig. Yay, Oxy!
We then headed down the Jardin de Tullieries (or however you spell it).
Un Petit Bateau (as Rosetta Stone would say...)
This time, I got to see it without an initial urgent need for les toilettes femmes, but I have to admit, classical conditioning or all those fountains eventually did the trick and we had to wend our way off to a café to placate me. redface A bit embarrassing to insist on that in front of Dirk, but when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. Still, nothing wrong with a bit of tea in downtown Paris on the banks of the Seine. Hmm….maybe if I cut back on tea, I’d…..naw, not going to do it whee
Finally, we wound up the evening with dinner at our little restaurant next door. The French never cease to amaze me—who on earth would have thought of a duck liver salad? Yet, and stay with me here, it was WONDERFUL. I know I sound like a broken record, but these guys can cook! Well, maybe I’ll get a few ideas to take back with me. Perhaps if I wear my haute couture scarf while I make dinner, I’ll make tasty food, too whee Anyway, my policy of “try anything once” has put me in good stead here. Of course, the chocolate mousse for dessert was a bit of a “gimme” insofar as that goes domokun
Full, but ready to do it again tomorrow,
V
