A Paris Return

The day for another departure.  This time it is Tutu that is having a bit of an I-don’t-want-to-leave! fit.  Now that he has found a companion, he is not looking forward to the new destination.  But, alas, he has no choice, and in he goes into my suitcase after bidding farewell to his new pink friend. I head to the kitchen.  Look out the window,  wash a few dishes and I am ready. We go to the Amiens Station one more time.  At Gare du Nord, still a bit frazzled when I finally find a ticket booth (see my post about that day here) I find myself tired of speaking or attempting to speak French so I ask in English for 2 round-trip tickets to Amiens.  The woman asks me in English if I can make the one leaving in 5 minutes, I say no, next one is in 30 minutes, I say great, she asks how many and I repeat 2 round-trips to Amiens. She gives them to me.  So when we go to the Amiens station we go straight to the train that takes us back to Paris.  On the train the ticket-taker comes, we hand him the tickets and oops, not a return ticket after all.  Oh sorry, so here is our fare.  Not enough? What? We each get charged 25 Euros fine for not having a ticket. Lesson learned to check and recheck tickets… maybe.

Today, instead of using airbnb, we have decided to check into a hotel, Super Hotel, (Super for super tiny rooms perhaps?) next to Pére Lachaise where we will be filming tomorrow. We are staying only one night. The place is miniscule.   Tutu goes into a corner still complaining about being alone.  But the neighborhood is lively and I like it.  The réalisateur (I think in French it has a nicer ring to it than “director”) scouts the neighborhood he is already quite familiar with.  I chill.  We reunite and go to dinner. I just love these very Parisian bistros.  And the bonus was that the food was quite good.       The morning of filming starts off in a very laid back way. We have coffee  at our local café since we can’t make it in the room. Of course, accompanied by the proverbial croissant which is flaky airy and delicious pretty much everywhere.   So much so that all I could photograph was this empty plate.    Today I have no responsibilities but to tag along so while they prepare to film, I laugh at Parisian parking skills.  Seems that they feel that they can park anywhere!   But on close inspection, he has a ticket or a warning that he will have to contend with!    The filming begins.   My attention goes to windows with flowers.  And as we walk to the next location, of balconies loaded with figurines I’m partial to: elephants.    We enter our next location.    Gratefully, it does not rain though it does threaten to at times.   I walk around.  So sad to see some mausoleums bordering on being neglected.  v I continue to roam and come to a moving tribute   to those who perished  in concentration camps.

Filming goes on.    I am again saddened by a mausoleum of what seems to be a young boy.    Looking up, something that seems so out of place.    The statues and their poses capture me.  

Before I realize it, it’s a day’s wrap.  We leave.   

It’s been good.  We open our laptops, play a bit on them, and then go off to eat in a neighborhood Indian restaurant which was surprisingly terrific.  Back to the hotel and tomorrow we shall move on to our next location. Where to next…?

I’m a Loca Parisienne!! Revision: a LocaL Parisienne! :)

Today is a day of errands.  My companion is off helping a student filmmaker make his thesis film and I am left to my own devices.  I wake early (Yes, you heard that right… early!) to see him go and to start my day.

So what do Parisians do in the morning?  Perhaps prepare their first cup of coffee.  Perhaps.  Probably go get the morning croissant and baguette.  Even if that isn’t what they do that is what I will do!  I go in search of the neighborhood boulangerie (bakery for all you non-Parisians) and return to my closest supermarché.

So once I map out my route, I depart.  I also must go to the bank, so first I head there while enjoying “my” neighborhood.    The walk is only two blocks but it takes me a while since I stop to photograph anything that catches my eye.

A door.    A window. 

A street. 

Once there, I return to the apartment (pied-a-terre) and towards  the boulangerie where I confidently (Okay, not so confidently ask for 4 croissants, donut, and can he add another two croissants please?  Bonne journée madame.  The equivalent of “Have a good day.” A vous aussi.  You too.  Yay!  I manage to feel like I belong.

And with my precious croissants – my, do they smell good – I go to the supermarket  that reminds me when they opened in Elkins Park, Philadelphia a million (well, maybe about 20 years ago).  I like their baskets, which have a curve so I can carry it on my side without having to lean like the Tower of Pisa.    Now back to the apartment.  I put away my groceries. Munch on a croissant. Vaguely think that all these carbs that I am consuming are going to make me fat.  Quickly discard that fact and stare at the pile of clothes I have to take to the lavomatique (laundromat).  Procrastinating sounds just the way to deal with this, but I do not…mainly propelled by the fact that I have no more socks or undies left clean, than by a recognition that procrastinating will get me nowhere.

Again I map my course and off I go!  I pick up the keys which are the oddest shape.    And with my very heavy two bags of clothes I go into the unknown.  I’m really not that sure of where it is.  After a quite a few blocks I must admit to myself (though not to others) that I have mapped out my course dreadfully wrong.  So I ask a woman on the street where is the closest laundromat and manage to understand perfectly well her directions.  Am relieved to know it is only two more blocks away and that I will not have to climb these steps to get to it.     Or these…  By the way, on the side is “The Aztec” club which is a weight training gym.  I get a kick out of that.

What I’m not getting a kick out of is carrying these two heavy bags of clothes.  As I approach the laundromat I spot a word that propels me back home:  Audition.  Never mind that it refers to nothing about my profession (acting) but does refer to auditory needs.     And I arrive.  Phew!  I don’t take a picture ’cause I am way too busy trying to figure out how to work/pay for the wash.  The machines are tiny.  It’s about $6 a wash.  Yikes!  And only after somebody actually comes to my aid am I able to use them.

What I do with great ease is go to the café, the Arch in the Sky,   (L’arc en Ciel) next door, empty except for one table of locals outside, and sit and feel like I am really part of this neighborhood.  Une noisette s’il vous plait.  A little espresso with a drop of milk please (And can I feel any more French today?).  I read.  I look out the lace curtain.    I survey the place.  I like the fact that my waiter seems to be 100 years old and doesn’t question my choice of boisson (drink).  Time to pay and return to my errands.  I fold. I feel good. I am loving everything just about now.

I return home to a welcoming by Tutu   From my kitchen I see Paris’ rooftops.  I wonder about who lives in them and spin webs of words that gel into lives that really may be far from reality.  

Would love to see this particular wood window open one day.    Even through the bars I find myself enjoying washing dishes.    Dean comes home just in time to enjoy another beautiful sunset in the neighborhood!

 

🙂