Snapshots of Paris

Well, that was a swift trip. Up there on Wednesday, work on Thursday, back on Friday. Train both ways with lengthy books.

   The general strike on Thursday seemed to have little effect in Paris apart from thinning the traffic along the quais. Someone told me this was because many people took a day off rather than face with what turned out to be no chaos at all.

   The metro was running--I learned this after I'd worked 40 minutes from the hotel to my appointment. That over, I ducked underground and metro-ed to Opera for lunch and a quick look at the clothes in Galeries Lafayette. 

   But it was too summery to be indoors. I started walking back in the vague direction of Ile de la Cité avoiding the grands boulevards, letting narrow streets take me where they wanted and coming upon an entire glass-covered alleyway lined with shops selling nothing but old postcards, stamps and coins.

   The day was warm enough to have filled outdoor seats at all the cafés  in 

Rue Montorgueil to bursting.

   Cyclists, pedestrians, dog walkers including this couple with the matched set of poodles, everyone was making the most of the sunshine.

   I crossed over to Notre Dame. Kids see-sawed and chased each other in the gardens to the south. As usual, the flowers in the formal gardens intrigued me. Whoever designs the plantings always choses unexpected combinations. This time, santolina and chard were in the mix. On the left bank, you could buy a print of this grand and graceful cathedral and just stand there in the sunshine and gaze and gaze at the real thing.

  

Back in Paris for a few days...

Paris is only a couple of hours, if that, from Toulouse if you fly but, after totalling the time needed to take the train from Pamiers, the shuttle bus to the airport, the check-in time, the flight, the transfer from airport to city centre and metro to near my hotel, I opted for the SNCF instead. The National Society of the Iron Way--loose translation--is slow travel but easier on the nerves. By 7 p.m. last night, I was wandering through the tunnels under the Gare d'Austerlitz in search of the metro. 

The hotel I'm staying in is bohemian life personified with ornate and very old wallpaper, a precipitous wood staircase and a tiny lobby furnished with crimson-velvet-covered chairs. I'm on the third floor and this is the view when I lean out over the little balcony. Yes, really. No "zoom"used  on the camera. This is what I see--and I still can't get used to it.

Notre Dame de Paris

Even if it hadn't been a chilly damp day, being inside Notre Dame cathedral would still give me goose bumps. Take a look at those soaring arches and wonder what it must have been like to build them. Although as the various guides were pointing out, if it weren't for those spider-leg flying buttresses outside, the whole thing would come crashing down. 

Some of the windows were restored in the 19th century. Like most cathedrals, this one was built over a long period of time and has been repaired as time has eroded it. 

Even though it's now late September, Notre Dame was still packed, a steady stream of visitors, cel phones held high to take photos, cameras flashing, shuffling along, up one side aisle and down another.

Still, there were pockets of absolute calm as in the side chapel where this old lady was lighting a candle.

On another small-scale "human" note, the pews have seats woven of rushes like the simple chair in Van Gogh's painting of his bedroom. 

Back outside, we stood back and looked up at the facade. Each time we come, we pay our respects to a certain saint who we call "Saint Gormless" because of his dim-witted expression and the fact that he seemed to ignore the fact that his hat had fallen over his eyes. It was only when we looked at a close up shot of him that we realized that the hat brim is actually a snake. Divine apologies are in order.

Autumn in Paris

Monday we took the train from Pamiers to Toulouse, and then from Toulouse to Paris. The apartment we're rented is on Ile St. Louis and overlooks the Seine. It's the tall narrow one on the extreme right.

Even though it's on the second floor (and remember, the second floor is the third floor in North American parlance) it's still 62 steps. Winding, curving, steep, well-polished stairs lead to the front door which opens into a 27 square metre apartment. About 280 square feet in non-metric. It's a small space but the owners have done a clever job with white furniture, mirrors and see-through chairs of making it look far larger than it is. 

From the window we can see the dome of the Pantheon and, if we lean out over the tiny balcony and risk plummeting on to the road below, a small vertical sliver of Notre Dame. Across the bridge that's directly in front of us is, what we've come to realize, the Tour d'Argent, the oldest restaurant in Paris.