Monday, May 7, 2001
We were literally
running to catch the 9:30 a.m. Paris Canal tour boat outside the Orsay, only
to find it is apparently flooded out. Saw filming going on at a Seine-side
ramp. [I bet Mark Wahlberg was the guy crouching behind the car in the scene.]
We métroed to place de la Madeleine where we ogled pastries at the original Laduree; bought a “Please Disturb” sign at a passage; then nearly lost my mind at Hediard. I want to drag Helen there by any available appendage. The produce was art! Sheer art! Chocolates in violin-shaped red boxes. Exotic flavored vinegars, oils, jams, and honeys. Gorgeous spices! Walls of tea! I’ve been nagging London-bound friends to check Twinning’s for red fruit tea (I bought four sample bags in 1991 and have craved more ever since). Julie Olson and Leisl Findley brought back delicious herbal fruit teas which I appreciated and enjoyed, but it wasn’t quite it. Voila! (I think). Melange Quatre Fruit Rouge. It smelled just like what I remember. I bought a big old tin of it. And a small tin of Vanilla tea. Vanilla tea! We also got a cool jar of black, white, green, and red peppercorns for our pepper mill (poivre moulin). Shoot! I need solely red peppercorns in its own mill so I’ll have Moulin Rouge! (I just sang the theme from the 1952 “Moulin Rouge” to Alan right on the #81 bus in front of God and everybody.)
Bussed over to the Latin Mandarin’s doorstep. We walked around until it opened and were its first customers. We were adventurous and ordered – chicken soup!! Bussed over to avenue l’Opéra Monoprix where we found replacement socks for Alan (Obvious Tip of The Day: never pack anything you’ve just purchased and never worn); cheap French perfume with which the girls can spritz themselves with impunity; and Mom’s favorite (U.S. discontinued) lavender product. Then up to Brentano’s American Bookstore to buy a Hemingway anthology for Alan (He’s never read anything Hemingway. I’ll be satisfied once he’s read “The Short, Happy Life of Francis Macomber.”); Patricia Page’s “A Clean Start”, and the book of Michael Palin’s “Hemingway Adventure” which quite adequately describes George’s place. I want to get Michael Palin’s comic novel “Hemingway’s Chair” at some point. Alan would only agree to buy the expensive “Hemingway Adventure” tome if I put back “Hemingway’s Chair”. Exchanged money, went home to unload our loot, bought groceries, ate a hot rotisserie chicken, took a nap.
[To literary enthusiasts:if you were to buy any of the above through their links or the one at disaster-area.org, a portion of the proceeds go to the Wes Stoops Scholarship.]
Bussed back to the Latin Quarter, bought frites and went to Sheri-D Wilson’s poetry reading where I learned “never get attached to a golf ball”. Or attached to a writing table. As we sat there, two things happened:
1. I noticed the tall wall of books behind me was not at a 90-degree angle
over our heads. It was at a perilous 80-degree angle over our heads.
2. A black cat cuddled up in Alan’s lap and placed its paw on my wrist as
Alan loved on it.
Afterward Alan lingered to listen to Ron (one of our Sunday Tea tour guides who is a cross between Robson Greene/Jeremy Piven/and Richard Ruccolo of “Two Guys, a Girl, and a Pizza Place”) talk about his adventures in Morocco.
We
métroed to place de la Concorde and rode the Paris Wheel. A quarter of the
way up I wondered why someone with a fear of heights (ME!) was up there.
The
Eiffel Tower had kinetic lights on and looked like a giant sparkler. I already
“needed a McDonald’s”. Then we métroed to the Champs Elysées-Clemenceau to
connect with the Saint Denis #13. Nearly two hours later (11:42 p.m.) my
overwrought bladder and I are still in the métro. There’s an impasse in the
line. We were sent back to Concorde to take a different route to connect
with #13 at Saint-Lazare. The irony is, the only thing I’m suffering from
more, other than my bladder, is thirst. Which I could slake, except I’d certainly
explode in 10 minutes. No room at the inn! I’m considering one of the more
disgraceful hobo behaviors. I keep writing to avoid considering it.
The métro arrives at 11:50 p.m.
I make it home dignity intact!
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