Tuesday, May 8, 2001

            So far on V.E. Day there are no buses.  We’ve walked to the métro and gotten on.  We’re headed for Sarah Bernhardt’s final resting place.

            The SUN came out!  BLUE sky!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            Alan bought a 10F map of Père Lachaise cemetery and we meandered past Colette, Rossini, Ingres, Delacroix, Balzac, et al on our unerring path to and from Sarah Bernhardt in area 44 (huge change from 1996's wandering through the cemetery for 40 years).  Her name was so big on her “crypt awning” that a legal size paper used to attempt a rubbing could barely cover “SARA”, so I contented myself with a rubbing of the dates.  We took photos of me and my petnamesake’s tomb, then meandered out.  Along the way we found a bronze statue writing on a stone tomb.  I don’t want an eventual gravestone – I’d rather a memorial xeriscopic butterfly garden –  but if I did, I’d want an interrupted statue writing “Christine LaPreal Cummings-Weis was a b”.  And whoever knew me could fill in the rest according to their reality!  Bore.  Beastly person. Bodacious creature.  I’ll have to do a drawing to go on my eventual funeral program!

            It was a shame to have such a gorgeous day for Père Lachaise.  One really needs cold and mist.  So much more appropriate to hum permanent-resident-Chopin’s Funeral March from Piano Sonata No. 2 (unofficial lyric: “Pray for the dead and the dead will pray for you”) than “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning”.

           

Métroed to La Samaritaine and went straight for the 9^th floor and the panorama stairs. 

            After we’d gawked and clicked photos in the sunshine, we had poulet sandwiches from the terrace restaurant; fed crumbs to sparrows; took more pictures; ate chocolate; and spotted Sheri-D Wilson, Martin, and others from the poetry reading last night. 

            I let Alan sit in the sunshine while I went downstairs, bought a silver-tone Monet brooch, and several-language DVD versions of “The Wizard of Oz” and “A Bug’s Life” (“1001 Pattes” here).

 

 

 

 

 

 

            After I got back, Alan used the 9^th floor men’s restroom.  When he opened the door a woman was there.  “I’m sorry I’m in the men’s room.  The women’s room is full and I REALLY have to go!  Oh!  It’s you!”  It was Sheri-D.  If only he had responded “You don’t have to pee that bad!  You’re not wearing a leotard and you don’t have a writing table tied to your back.” ...You had to be at her poetry reading.  “From Bunhead to Bard” made me laugh until I cried.  That and “Spinster”.

            Later we met them all at the elevator and we exchanged stalking accusations.  I assured them I was a registered stalker in only a few states.  She said as long as I didn’t have a weapon.  I said, no, just my mouth: it was weapon enough and I took it everywhere with me.  Then we told her the story of the Thief of Berganz Bag 1999 at the Sacré-Cœur.  We laughed and talked.  She bid us good-bye with “See you at the next bathroom!”

            Métroed to the Hotel LeCrillon at place de la Concorde to enjoy a High Tea of madelines, muffins, petit gatelles, salmon and poulet finger-sandwiches, live harp music, attentive waiters (a first!), and opulent surroundings – marble, gilt, velvet, crystal...No, it wasn’t my idea.  Alan wanted to do this.  Of course, I went kicking and screaming...

            Ladies nearby were drinking fruit juice with a swizzle stick that had the LeCrillon logo atop it (a crowned “C”) that sorta looked like a thistle.  I wanted one to make into a Christmas ornament.  So I ordered the fruit juice (which was called a “fruit cocktail”).  Now, we knew Le Crillon high tea was an uncommon splurge at 185F each.  But would you believe a fruit cocktail at 120F?!  BOTH of us can eat dinner on Rue Cler for 120F!  But now I have a $17 swizzle stick/Christmas ornament.  Let’s hear it for $17 swizzles...WooHOO! [I could've been tacky enough to walk over and swipe the ladies's abandoned swizzles for free, like we pocketed the cocktail napkin and the tiny jar of raspberry preserves (label and lid above with swizzle). But the place was so swank I was too intimidated to take out my camera, let alone swipe a swizzle!]

            Métroed back to FNAC Les Halles to pick up a “Nosferatu” DVD.  I’d passed it up before because it didn’t advertise that it was also in English...I’d forgotten that the film classic is silent.  Duh.  Somewhere my film professors, Bob and Andy were groaning in shame.  I’ve always wanted to see it, could never find it.  Now I’ve got a “souvenir” for Paris and the “Nosferatu” ‘ballet’.

            We walked over to place Igor Stravinsky by the Pompidou Centre to take pictures of the crazy fountain.

            Métroed home for an early night...ha!  11:30 p.m. 

            Carl and Ella sent us a beaucoup-money-saving telecard.  We were expecting it.  What we didn’t expect were drawings from Nikki and Kilory!  We taped them up under the TV.  I wonder what the maid will think.

[The Eiffel Tower is between the smokeless smokestack and the apartment building. But you can't see it in the above photo. You can see my Lily of the Valley plant, and my bouquet of pink roses. And a pile of stuff.]

Index/Highlights

 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