Saturday - edited!

SSaturday - Paris is a Woman
We woke late, slept until 11:30. We needed it after days of walking for 12-15 hours straight. We didn’t get out of the house until after 1 in the afternoon. Another perfect day weather wise.

If New York is a man with its straight streets and tall rectilinear un-ornamented buildings then Paris is a Woman:
She is beautiful and elegant and her power comes from here. She is not afraid of beauty she preens constantly and there is a coiffure on every block. She is expensive and changes by the hour. She has big wet gash running through her center with 2 diamond shaped islands. She is curvy and shines in the night. Her neighborhoods change but overall she is strong. Her architecture is needlessly decorative. She seems to survive on wine, chocolate, cheese, clothes and shopping.

We got a dog update from Rob. Duke’s stool was little soft the first day but it firmed up. We think about his turds way too much. Bina took him to work at SVA on Friday, which I am sure he loved. Probably had art school girls and boys cooing at him and sat there as the little pasha that he is. It’s a relief to know that he is well and getting lots of attention. We also got a note from Elodie, the woman we swapped apartments with. She says not to worry about the tomatoes and that all is well in the apartment in NY.

After sorting out our information, we walked to a near-ish market street. Rue Montorgueil runs between the 1st & 2nd arrondisement. It is lined with small restaurants and food shops. We bought sandwiches and ate them while sitting near the head sculpture, known as “The Listener” by Henri de Miller. It sits in the courtyard in front of St. Eustache church and is a draw for children and tourists alike. Terry took photos of tourist, so easily and so many the expression like shooting fish in a barrel, came to mind. We ate and walked to the Pompidou courtyard and around the neighborhood. Before the shops closed we returned to the market and got supplies for a picnic: half a rotisserie roasted chicken, too much cheese, amazing cherries, a good bottle of Cotes du Ventoux, bread and prosciutto. We also bought plastic plates and cutlery from the store Habitat, but got real glass wines glasses because you can’t drink good wine out of plastic. We picnicked on the banks of the Seine near Notre Dame at dusk. The air was alive with people walking and talking, one young American accosted us to wonder where our scrumptious repast had come from. We laughed at his youth and lack of planning. It was a perfect meal. The chicken was moist, tender, and had a slight spice. Our cheese were inspired, the Strong salty blue cheese was perfect when spread onto a half eaten cherry. The chevre was wrapped in proscuttio, and you just can’t go wrong with that. We also had a mild tome. As the sun set we sat and enjoyed our surroundings, and our meal.

We have been to the infamous Shakespeare & Co bookstore almost every day since we arrived. There is a charming English accented young man about town who is seemingly buzzed every night we see him. The wine only adds to his charm as he knows the location of every book they have. He must get all the young English speaking women he wants, as he has the gift of gab in spades. The book store has beds upstairs and one downstairs for poor travelers to sleep in. The upstairs is full of books that are not for sale, but you can sit and read them as “reference”. They have a book on Black mountain college which I have never seen before, not for sale. I did buy a copy of The seven ages of Paris which is where I lifted the Paris is a woman analogy from.

Surprisingly, we haven’t been inside a museum yet. The weather has been so glorious and the walks so exhausting, we simply haven’t had the inclination or the energy to go inside. Maybe next week!

This six year old original iBook doesn’t want to hold a charge anymore. Its tiny 3 gig drive was huge when it was new, but seems cramped and slow now.