Day 7 - 9/21/2012
I get a late start and head out for a coffee. My plan is to buy the pole, then visit the Jardins du Luxembourg. The store is called Des Poisson Si Grande. It is near Napoleon's tomb. On my way, I pass the Musée de L'Armée and wonder at the green cannons and the long grande avenue that stretches across the Seine and connects the Concorde with the right bank. Was it designed for a triumphal promenade of the army? It would be very effective for that.
I arrive at the fish store about noon and it is filled with rods and tackle. I found it! I describe to Marcelo, the owner, that I want to go fishing in Paris and need a cheap pole that can be left behind. He did better than that and sells me a telescoping rod designed for travel. It is longer than I like but who cares. Before we conclude the transaction, he tells me I have to come back in half an hour. It is lunch-time. I wander around the block until 1:10, then go back and buy the rod. I am tooled up and ready to fish.
There is a light rain falling. On my route to the Jardins du Luxembourg, I see a small cafe on a quiet street and take note. I want to stop there later. I stroll through the garden. The leaves have changed color, the sandy walkways are covered in damp brown, gold, yellow, red. The woods smell delicious in the rain. I hear men speaking and the clanking of metal. There is a large group of men playing Pétanque. I sit on the bench and watch, wondering why they aren't working.
The rain grows heavy. I leave the game and return to the cafe Le Fleurus. I sit under the awning and drink an espresso. There is bridal shop across the street with large windows. A lady sits at a desk and works. On the wall behind her is a large sheet of paper. I can only read part it. It a paraphrase of a quote from Goethe: 'Every day one should at least listen to a little song, read a good poem, look at a fine painting, and, if possible, say a few reasonable words.'
A lady and her dog sit at the last table. She orders a glass of red wine. When the waiter returns, he has her wine, some peanuts (if not happy hour, they have to do that), a bowl and some water for her dog. I could smell the wine in the air. The rain lets up.
I return to the garden and stroll through the grounds on the south end. I am elated by the atmosphere. A group of young people hail me and ask me to take their photo. I do. As I leave, I hear music. An orchestra is playing Wagner under a bandshell. I stand in the light mist and listen to divine music. When they finish, I walk over to La Fontaine Médicis.
The fountain lies behind the bandshell. The rain patters on the water in the reflecting pool, blurring the koi swimming before the awesome fountain. It is too beautiful. If it wasn't raining, I would spend the rest of the day here.
I pass another group of men playing chess under a pavillion. I walk home in the light rain to rest. I play with my new fishing rod and imagine the fish I will catch. Later that evening, I meet Anna for my first visit to a creperie. We eat at Crêperie Josselin. It is very crowded and small. The interior is wood with an alpine or northern feel. Everywhere there are mosiacs, including the tables.
Having a bit of a sausage fetish, I order a galette with Andouille de Guéménée sausage. It is the vilest thing I've ever smelled. The sausage pieces look like minute coiled intestines. I eat some of it but the smell kills my appetite. I spend the rest of the time drinking the cider that accompanies the meal. Note to self: sausage is a very dangerous meat!
To end the evening, Anna and I go down the street to Le Falstaff's, a small bar playing heavy metal and serving Belgian beer on tap. We drink until 1, leaving for Anna to catch the last metro. I walk home and pass out, delighted. I dream of pigs.
I arrive at the fish store about noon and it is filled with rods and tackle. I found it! I describe to Marcelo, the owner, that I want to go fishing in Paris and need a cheap pole that can be left behind. He did better than that and sells me a telescoping rod designed for travel. It is longer than I like but who cares. Before we conclude the transaction, he tells me I have to come back in half an hour. It is lunch-time. I wander around the block until 1:10, then go back and buy the rod. I am tooled up and ready to fish.
There is a light rain falling. On my route to the Jardins du Luxembourg, I see a small cafe on a quiet street and take note. I want to stop there later. I stroll through the garden. The leaves have changed color, the sandy walkways are covered in damp brown, gold, yellow, red. The woods smell delicious in the rain. I hear men speaking and the clanking of metal. There is a large group of men playing Pétanque. I sit on the bench and watch, wondering why they aren't working.
The rain grows heavy. I leave the game and return to the cafe Le Fleurus. I sit under the awning and drink an espresso. There is bridal shop across the street with large windows. A lady sits at a desk and works. On the wall behind her is a large sheet of paper. I can only read part it. It a paraphrase of a quote from Goethe: 'Every day one should at least listen to a little song, read a good poem, look at a fine painting, and, if possible, say a few reasonable words.'
A lady and her dog sit at the last table. She orders a glass of red wine. When the waiter returns, he has her wine, some peanuts (if not happy hour, they have to do that), a bowl and some water for her dog. I could smell the wine in the air. The rain lets up.
I return to the garden and stroll through the grounds on the south end. I am elated by the atmosphere. A group of young people hail me and ask me to take their photo. I do. As I leave, I hear music. An orchestra is playing Wagner under a bandshell. I stand in the light mist and listen to divine music. When they finish, I walk over to La Fontaine Médicis.
The fountain lies behind the bandshell. The rain patters on the water in the reflecting pool, blurring the koi swimming before the awesome fountain. It is too beautiful. If it wasn't raining, I would spend the rest of the day here.
I pass another group of men playing chess under a pavillion. I walk home in the light rain to rest. I play with my new fishing rod and imagine the fish I will catch. Later that evening, I meet Anna for my first visit to a creperie. We eat at Crêperie Josselin. It is very crowded and small. The interior is wood with an alpine or northern feel. Everywhere there are mosiacs, including the tables.
Having a bit of a sausage fetish, I order a galette with Andouille de Guéménée sausage. It is the vilest thing I've ever smelled. The sausage pieces look like minute coiled intestines. I eat some of it but the smell kills my appetite. I spend the rest of the time drinking the cider that accompanies the meal. Note to self: sausage is a very dangerous meat!
To end the evening, Anna and I go down the street to Le Falstaff's, a small bar playing heavy metal and serving Belgian beer on tap. We drink until 1, leaving for Anna to catch the last metro. I walk home and pass out, delighted. I dream of pigs.
Orchestra at Jardins des Luxembourg
La Fontaine Médicis
