Oh, Champs Elysées

A metaphorical experience

Last night, he had an after-work social hour just off the Champs Elysées. When I met him there, he was two gin and tonics into a very good mood and I was tired and sobered, having finished my happy hours across town before making the trek to my least favorite place in all of Paris. Don’t get me wrong. The Champs Elysées is gorgeous—wide and tree-lined, cobble-stoned, with classy storefronts and cafes along both sides and the impressive Arc de Triomphe at the end. But no sooner had I come out of the Metro at Avenue Hoche than two Chinese tourists approached me and asked if I knew where the Louis Vuitton store was. “No,” I said plainly, and “I’m sorry… It must be on the Champs Elysées.” But they insisted that it was somewhere else and so what I didn’t say was that I couldn’t care less where it was or is or will be.

This is what I hate about the Champs Elysées: The tourists. All the luxury boutiques—cars, jewelry, clothes that would never fit me—high-priced restaurants and cafes where people go to be seen, where you will be scolded for not having made a reservation even if the restaurant is half empty, the nightclubs that pick and choose their patrons at the door. I can walk for hours and find nothing of interest. Not even the beggars are authentic, and the street dancers that draw large circles of on lookers are too cheesy for words.

He usually walks a couple of paces ahead of me… no matter how many times I ask him to walk beside me. He blames the dog, his Paris tempo, but not last night. Last night we strolled—well, I dragged and he strolled. The weather was not so cold and, as usual, we had no idea where we were going. We were hungry and he was high on life. When we went to cross the wide street—four lanes in each direction, or is it five?—he stopped half-way across the eastbound side to tie his shoe, which took him a while so I waited at the median until the pedestrian signs turned red in both directions. He had just seconds left to get out of the street when what does he do? He walks on across the westbound lanes too, passing me patiently waiting for him in the middle. The light had been red long enough that I knew we would get caught in front of the twin Mercedes already revving their engines, the scooters rocking back and forth. So I waited and he walked. He walked as if he owned the Avenue and all the cars waited for him and there I was standing in the middle, having waited there for him to tie his shoe.

As the cars zoomed past in both directions, I knew that this was a metaphor for my entire life. Patience and caution and observation, people passing me by. He’s right when he says I belong in the past. He usually says that I need to be more assertive. But last night he just laughed. From across the wide street, he pointed and laughed and looked around him at all the pretty things while he waited for me. When the light finally turned, I did not hurry to him. I did not even put my arm around him until he made me. “C’mon!” he prodded. “This is the best street in the world!” I gave him a look that prompted the question, “What’s the best street in the world for you?”

“Pacific Coast Highway,” I replied, though really I’d prefer any late night street in this city. Emptied of cars, emptied of tourists, with just my own footsteps setting the pace.

Sunday

Finally! April in Paris!

A few weeks ago, we discovered a great little market near our apartment. We've only lived here for a year and a half, after all ;) As with most things, it was just a question of being in the right place at the right time. Until now, we've gone to the Saturday marchee in the Marais or on Sundays we would take the metro to Bastille or even La Motte Piquet, our old haunt. Now, we just walk across the trellised garden at Les Halles. Someone was picking the tulips last night... can't really blame them.



Les Halles is a series of glass walls--a sort of shopping mall--which wraps around a park with grassy areas and smaller gardens like this little beauty with topiary elephants to welcome you...



... Closed today, it seems to be one of a couple of tiny water parks that make up the larger garden. And there in the background is Saint Eustache, an impressive touch of Gothic at the northwest corner of this oldest marketplace in Paris.


Though we made a vow--just last night--to eat at home more often, I insisted on a cafe creme before we started down the block-long row of canopies to choose our fruits and vegetables for the week. I don't have a coffee habit, but I do love the French version, especially when the weather's nice enough to sit outside... a perfect spot to sit and watch the shoppers come...



The back of the church is sooty and neglected compared to the rest, which is currently being renovated... like so much of this city, all the time.






We bought fresh butter, eggs and Camembert, plus strawberries, tangerines, avocados, bananas, kiwis, tomatoes, and a gorgeous salad mix.


... and I bought a little bag of these tiny Easter eggs, which I'm eating right now!


The shell is familiar, but the inside is like nothing I've ever tasted before--crystalized sugar with a tiny, liquid pool in the center. Each color has its own flavor. Once in a great while, some color tastes of licorice... I haven't yet figured out which one, but it's a bit out of place with all the fruity goodness of the others.

They match the colors in the garden that we saw on our walk home... so many bulbs popping up in all the flower beds, all the flowering trees in bloom. Ahhhhh, April in Paris. There really is nothing like it, but we'll have to wear our scarves for a couple more weeks... the French saying goes something like "Wear more than a string in spring," except they say April instead of spring because in French it rhymes with string.

This picture is my favorite one in a long time... of course with all the videos I've been making I haven't had much time for photographs. I think they make the blog so much more entertaining. What do you think?






This tree is already loosing its flowers... It must be related to the Magnolia.

It won't be long before people are shedding their winter layers, too.





The dome beyond the trees...



That's the Chamber of Commerce. But who cares?! Look at the trees! Some haven't even sprung their first leaves yet?! Isn't it divine, the way the sun slants through the branches... all the greens and pinks and the robin's egg blue of the sky?! This afternoon, if the sun doesn't disappear into clouds, the grass will be covered with picnic'ers with wine and cheese... and children kicking soccer balls and chasing each other around... the trees. But at the moment--it's 4:00 now--the clouds seem to be winning. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind a little rain.