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An
Offer We Could Not Refuse by Rick Brown
I was somewhat beside myself, not just for the gracious generosity of the offer, but because the man had been my supervisor for more than a decade and a half. We had rarely socialized. I didn’t even remember having lunch with him. Yet the warmth of his invitation eased my mild trepidation. Yvonne and I wondered aloud how we could pass up such an opportunity. Within days I told Mike we were in and set some dates shortly after. At first we planned on flying into Barcelona…a city we long to someday visit. But airfare was steep and travel time close to an entire 24-hour day. So we settled (if that’s what one does when speaking of the City of Lights) on Paris. This is my favorite city in the world…at least what I’ve seen of Planet Earth…and the fact that we had been there 14 months earlier invoked an interesting feeling of “going home”. Strange. I rarely display exuberance concerning familiarity. But Paris is far from ordinary…even at its’ most mundane. And riding the TGV high-speed train to the South is a thrill in itself. We really only made one mistake on this journey…and it came at the very beginning. Our flight arrived in Paris at 5:30 a.m. We got to our hotel (a delightful place we stayed at in 2006) at 6:15. Fortunately the Hotel Du Danube has a warm, friendly staff and they allowed us to lock up our luggage, freeing us to meander the predawn streets of Paris…where nothing…and I mean nothing…was open for business…at least not until the coffee shop next door invited us in at 7 or so.
In the mean time we got a detailed view of early morning Paris, which is mostly sleepy, the exception being the street cleaners. Every morning these respected workers clean the streets both wide and narrow. And while The French do not come close to littering like Americans, because they love their dogs and take them everywhere (even into restaurants) the daily cleaning is a blessing…if you catch my drift. So Yvonne and I, once inside our cozy hotel room, took a nap. This killed an entire afternoon. Perhaps in my younger days I could have stayed awake 40 straight hours, but not any more. Jetlag is a part of travel everyone deals with differently. For most of us I believe arriving in late afternoon or early evening, staying up as long as possible after a nice dinner, and then retiring for the night is the best plan. We did have a glorious seafood dinner at a wonderful restaurant we learned about in a travelogue we watched on the flight over. The place is called Fish La Boissonnerie and I had one of the finest meals of my life…no doubt. One reality did present itself that first evening. Despite having free lodging in the South four evenings later on, the American dollar isn’t worth what they are cleaning off the Paris streets each morning. Yet I sensed no hostility concerning the U.S. politics of our time, but ironically a subtle sort of pity and relief knowing George W. Bush’s days are winding down. The French…and Europe in general…are very much intrigued by America’s election in a more than “It couldn’t possibly get worse” kind of way.
The following day we strolled the avenues of Paris with a new vigor and clear headedness. When on foot I always try to savor the journey. I attained this wisdom from learning streets are narrow, street signs change defying logic, and maps are not always accurate. A I overheard a woman telling her husband, “It’s this way. You need to go left to go left to go right”. I’m certain by his chuckle he knew “right” as a direction and not correctness. Better to acknowledge this challenge and take in the vegetables, seafood, sights and smells of each district.
We made our way to the Rodin Museum a little north of the Saint Germain section where our hotel is situated. Still on the Left Bank…and in the middle of this urban coziness, the museum was actually Rodin’s residence. This is a mansion with sprawling gardens and grounds displaying much of his famous sculptures. Whether it’s “The Thinker”, “Balzac”, “The Kiss” or less familiar works, the experience is quite moving.
After spending several hours admiring Rodin (this guys was prolific!!) we headed back through the winding streets. The hustle and bustle of late afternoon is exciting. Of course we were hungry from all that art. So we took to the byways of Saint Germain and wandered into a place where we had eaten before. The name escapes me…but the seafood on display outside does not. One of the traditional “family dinners” of Frances is a bucket of mussels and frites (French Fries). But first I had to down half a dozen or so raw oysters. The oysters here are to die for. Big, fat, and meaty covered in a wine vinaigrette, these briny gems are a visceral experience.
Shortly after our buckets of steamed mussels in bleu cheese arrived a young couple with small children, a boy and a girl took the table next to us. Soon they were all munching on mussels as well and it was fun watching the kids devour them like popcorn. The little boy expressed dismay when he discovered the lack of ketchup on their table. (For some reason I find it amazing…the children all know FRENCH!!!!) I tapped the boy on his shoulder and handed him a bottle of good old Heinz 57. The smile on his face was a picture of universal joy. After dinner we meandered down to Café Laurent to listen to some jazz. Counting our last excursion to Paris this was our third visit to this delightful hotel bar featuring a wonderful jazz trio. (The website is in French. So is everything about this place…be prepared to point if you do not speak the language.) I love this little club and the music is great! The smooth sounds of upright bass, drums, and grand piano is the perfect way to cap off a night in the City of Lights. And after a couple (yes…expensive) glasses of Bordeaux we were ready to head back to our hotel, get a good night’s sleep, and take the bullet train to see our friends in the morning.
“An Offer We Could Not Refuse” will continue with “Part II – The South of France” in the next issue of Naked Sunfish. |
