Sunday, May 13, 2001
We’re riding the RER train “Zebu” to Chateau Malmaison. And yes, I sang portions of “The Song of the Zebu” right there in front of God and everybody in the RER station.
This is a return trip to Malmaison to confirm my suspicion that Josephine was a closet Texan. Need to see what kind of SPRING flowers are planted here...
Meanwhile back at Paris:
I'm
fairly certain I was the only visitor there taking pictures of the snails
– pardon moi! – escargot.
Malmaison spring flowers don’t have as much in common with Texas as Malmaison fall flowers. The wisteria perfume was so heady it even wafted through Alan’s stuffy nose.
In a week or two Josephine’s rose garden, the birthplace of my beloved “Souvenir
de la Malmaison” rose, ought to be an explosion of blooms. Now it’s mostly
an explosion of unopened buds. Alan liked how inexpensive their vending machine
sodas were.
We seem to spend the last Paris Sunday at brocante fests. This one at the Bastille was like a sauna. We’d been given the tickets to enter. Others paid 40F each. It was so hot I had sweat running down my front and back. I could hardly wait to get to Shakespeare and Company at 4 p.m. to partake of HOT tea! Ack!
I showed up at the tea with a cold “Coca Cola Light” that I bought at a métro. I went into the writers’ room and waited for “the tour” to begin.
I could hear Alan in the parlor regaling the other guests with this and that.
He met a person from Keene, New Hampshire who’d met someone from Keene, Texas
just the other day. He also met a retiree from Scotsdale, AZ whose daughter
lives in Plano, Texas. The guy stayed at George’s ten years ago. Said nothing
had changed. This time in searching for a cheap sleep he had Alan to give
him a spare Formule 1 brochure that he had on him.
Much later, Ron played a small guitar and sang his self-penned song of how
beautiful and empty his life was (beautiful and MTV?), and “Viva Las Vegas”
on the stairs. As I’d been sitting on the stairs below/at Steven’s feet –
learning that the basement is the remains of a monastery – I ended up with
the front row seat for Ron’s performance.
I bought George’s “Tumbleweed Hotel” and “Fire Readings” publications and had him sign them.
Then
we had our quintennial Mother’s Day meal at Jardin Notre Dame. (We’ve now
eaten Mother’s day dinner there three times: 1991, 1996, 2001.) It was our
second meal there THIS trip. The owner teased us that we always order the
same thing. Which is true.
At 6:15 the bells of Notre Dame began pealing and did not quit for 13 minutes. It was wonderful. When we first sat down, I laughed and laughed because the flowers on the table were dead. Not wilted; DEAD. The owner later brought fresh flowers and when we left, called out “See you tomorrow!”
Went to a Seineside exchange to convert Francs to Dollars. Next door was one more chance to spend 200F! Adorable sweatshirts with embroidered children flying embroidered kites in front of an embroidered Eiffel tower. Bought them big because it won’t be sweatshirt weather until November.
Friday, April 27 | Sabbath, April 28 | Sunday, April 29 | Monday, April 30 | Tuesday, May 1 | Wednesday, May 2 | Thursday, May 3 | Friday, May 4 | Saturday, May 5 | Sunday, May 6 | Monday, May 7 | Tuesday, May 8 | Wednesday, May 9 | Thursday, May 10 | Friday, May 11| Saturday, May 12 | Sunday, May 13 | Monday, May 14 | Epilogue