Settling in at the church waiting for the concert.
It’s a 400-year-old church on one of the little islands in the river Seine. I had a bit of time to stroll around and snap photos before we all sat down.
I can’t help thinking of fault lines back in California when I see this dude.
A few weeks later I would show these pictures to Ann and Andrew. Of the first one, I said “I can’t help thinking of the Bay Area when I see San Andreas…”
Andrew replied, “Hah, well that’s hardly his fault. Oh wait! it is.”
When I showed them second picture, of the plaque donated by the city of St Louis, Andrew said “Wow, thanks guys. Classy American gift…”
I said, “Oh come on, there’s not a lot going on in St Louis, and a plaque is a nice gift.”
Ann said, “Tell that to my dentist…”
Aaaanyway. The conductor walked to the podium and there was a brief introduction, then a couple of short pieces I wasn’t familiar with but enjoyed. Then the full choir shuffled out and the requiem began.
Nice shed you’ve got here! Must keep the rain out a treat!
It was wonderful. An absolutely “bucket list” experience, and one that I didn’t even know I could have before yesterday. This music, in this intimate old church, in the heart of Paris… Oh là là!
I noticed that among all the people in the audience, I moved around the most. I couldn’t help tilting my head and tapping my fingers on my leg. I didn’t want to bother other people, but … come on y’all, it’s great music. I suppose if I spent more time in churches I would feel more hushed and reverential, and less like I was at a show that could be visibly appreciated.
Some well-dressed people in the audience stuck their phones up and tried to record large chunks of the performance. Like, not 30 seconds or so, but entire five-minute movements. It was a little strange because I thought only Americans were that gauche.
The performance relaxed me, beyond the relaxation I already felt from the weekend. When I emerged from the church I was like, “aaaaahhhhh,” and walked slowly around the little island with my AirPods quieting the city sounds. And then, ice cream was right there, so why not!
This is about an hour of waiting in line for a few scoops of ice cream. I’m sure it’s tasty but, I’m going to go with a different vendor, thanks…
One scoop passionfruit and one scoop dark chocolate.
I also knew it was a holiday from work tomorrow. Usually I would spend part of Sunday reviewing notes and email, to be ready the next morning. The thought that I didn’t have anything to do at all except stare at the canal and eat ice cream, with the Requiem echoing in my head, felt unfamiliar in a way that was almost sad.
It really is true that people live their lives stretched out, across the events of the previous days and the looming demands of the next ones. The feeling that I didn’t have to leave the present moment at all – not just for the next hour, but for the rest of the day – was spooky. I wasn’t even planning to change locations soon, like I usually would on a bike tour.
Why walk around in the crowded streets when you can cram your butt onto a barge, standing cheek-to-cheek?
Why walk around in the crowded streets when you can cram your butt onto a barge, standing cheek-to-cheek?
Look at all them tourists goooo!
As magical as it was, I didn’t want to linger on the island for the whole evening. I unlocked my bike and rode back near the apartment, and sought out yet another bakery I hadn’t tried. There I found a slice of quiche and a little chocolate eclair.
That’s 17 bakeries open after 7:00pm, within a 5 minute walk of the apartment.
That’s 17 bakeries open after 7:00pm, within a 5 minute walk of the apartment.
I was being careful with the amounts of things I ate, because I noticed some weight loss on the Rhineland bike tour and I wanted to keep the momentum. It felt easy to hold back, when I knew I was completely surrounded by amazing food, so close at hand that I could walk in any direction for less than one minute and find something great.
An ex of mine (who shall remain nameless because she was rather unkind) once said, “Being in Paris consists of a lot of ‘seeing of beauty.'” Since this was my first non-work day in the city, it was time to go do some of that!
I stripped all my luggage off the bike, leaving one bag with the camera in it. Everything else could stay locked behind this insane apartment door:
Out in the chaos of people, I made for Seine, the river at the center of the city.
I got a recommendation from friend Cara to try the hot chocolate at Angelina. It looked amazing but there was an equally amazing line, and the wait for a table was 70 minutes. So I hopped across the street to Tuileries Garden, and did some “seeing of beauty” instead.
This park is rather long. Note the tourist dragging his suitcase. Common thing: Pack up to leave your hotel room, then roll around for the day until you get on a train in the evening.
This park is rather long. Note the tourist dragging his suitcase. Common thing: Pack up to leave your hotel room, then roll around for the day until you get on a train in the evening.
I wandered the gardens with my “courtyard” playlist adding to the atmosphere — mostly stuff by Harold Budd and Stephan Micus, with the Coil album “The Agelic Conversation” mixed in.
I passed two large fountains ringed with chairs, and every chair was occupied, with crowds milling around them. There were at least three cafes partially under shade, and each had a line about 20 people deep. It was more like being in the middle of a farmers market than being in a park. Perhaps it’s some kind of post-COVID travel boom, but it really feels excessive, like, how do the actual residents of Paris even put up with this?
I also saw people – I couldn’t tell if they were locals or tourists – sitting with their feet deliberately across a second chair just to get a little more comfortable, even though literally hundreds of people, including elderly, were all around them and any one of them would have probably sat down given the chance. I was thinking, “Is this Parisians saying ‘screw you’ to the tourists, or is this tourists saying ‘screw you’ to each other? Maybe both…”
When I reached the other side, it was time to launch myself into the streets again to find that big pokey-uppey thing everyone’s heard about:
Cool! Now if someone dares me to prove that I’ve seen the pokey-uppey thing, I can show them this picture, which looks totally fake and exactly like all the other ones. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!
Meandering back to the north, I encountered a protest in progress.
This is a march about … Hmm. About apparent side-effects from the COVID-19 vaccine? What?
Several people were carrying anti-COVID-vaccine signs, but they were mixed with others I couldn’t parse. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what the protest was about. But it was very French.
After that, I found some more buildings to stand in front of:
Whoever’s buried here must be, like, important and stuff!
Whenever I step out, I bring an angel along to keep my drapes from falling off.
Some time after that I saw this poster on a wall, and was intrigued. With a little help from my phone I realized it was a concert happening the very next day, and I could still buy a ticket for it.
Back in 1992 I was gifted a CD with Mozart’s Requiem, and I played the heck out of it. It fed into my lifelong obsession with music. It’s one of the most popular pieces of “classical” music in the world, and for good reason.
I paused my random bicycling to eat another decadent snack, and try to buy a ticket with my phone. The interface was just a little bit broken. Perhaps that’s why there were still tickets!
We know they’re adorable, but they’re kinda causing problems, so quit leaving your food everywhere, huh?
One of the things I wanted to see was the Labyrinthe du Jardin des Plantes. Not much of a puzzle, but a refreshing walk:
I was starting to run out of daylight, but there was one more garden I could visit on my way to the apartment: Place des Vosges, the oldest planned square in Paris, commissioned by Henri IV in 1612.
When you’re pressed for time because there are so many things to see, and one of those places is a gorgeous park that’s been sitting around being gorgeous for 400 years, and one of the best ways to enjoy a park is to stretch out and read a book for the whole afternoon, but it’s already evening, what can you do?
All I could do was stroll around and take a few photos, and imagine that I’d been lounging on the grass all day.
I was too excited by the city to stay indoors yesterday, but today it was time to catch up on sleep. I woke up half a dozen times, and kept thinking “nope!” and dropping back onto the pillow.
The final tally according to my watch was eleven hours.
Around noon, I threw all my clothes into the tiny washing machine under the counter, puzzled over the French interface, then got it started. As it churned I did some writing and work at the table. It was Friday, and that meant I could put in a workday today, then have the whole weekend free to go exploring.
Three hours later I realized I needed food, and though I knew it would be possible to find some kind of food no matter what time it was, I wanted to catch a bakery before they all closed. I picked one at random, and cycled out.
There are many, many, many bakeries to choose from.
There are many, many, many bakeries to choose from.
So many delicious things! I pointed at stuff until I had at least two meals, then pedaled back to the apartment. The first thing I devoured was a cookie:
Two kinds of quiche from two bakeries, plus other goodies.
Two kinds of quiche from two bakeries, plus other goodies.
The quiche was next. I ate it while spending half an hour trying to figure out how to activate the drying mode on the weird clothes washer installed in the kitchen.
More work, more snacking, a brief walk around outside… Then it was sleep again.
