On Monday (17 March) we decided to explore the North of the city. First we walked up,to the cafe HolyBerry. I follow them on twitter – the proprietor seemed pleased to know – told me how to say it in French – je vous suivre sur twitter!) The people who run it have spent time in Australia – Melbourne in fact. He told us when they returned to Paris they wanted to, but found they couldn’t, get the sort of food they had enjoyed in Melbourne. So they started this place to do just that. And that’s what it was like. A little bit of the best of Brunswick or Northcote here in the middle of Paris. It was located in quite a grungy side street – so that was similar too. The food was terrific. We both had eggs and our usual accompaniments (beans for him, boudin blanc for me). And our usual coffee – long black and flat white. Great.
After breakfast we walked to the Canal Saint Martin which was close by. We were lucky enough to see the lock opening and closing to let a boat go upstream. We continued to walk quite a way along the canal because it was pretty and we could have a decent walk – meaning quick and un impeded by people. We came across where they have the market – awnings rolled back but the frame-works in place for stall-holders to ply their wares. We may find out when it is held and come back to it.
Then we walked back the Boulevard Voltaire towards the Place Republic. Where we were on the spot when an accident occurred. A motor bike rider was hit and dragged by a car. The worst thing was the car continued with the person underneath, seemingly oblivious, while while his girlfriend screamed. It was probably only seconds but seemed a long time. We were very close to it – about to cross the street the bike had been turning into I think. Joe saw passers-by physically lift the car off the bike rider. I and a young Japanese woman who was next to us hugged each other. It was a shock. There was some sort of medical vehicle nearby and the driver came forward. It all looked very serious. Later we heard an ambulance. We kept walking. Continuing on our way North. Stopping by a sports wear shop where Joe bought some black reebok walking shoes – very chic – which he wore for the rest of the day.
There were some smaller versions of the Arc’D’Triomphe along the way. And later came upon this fine looking church that, unusually, was all boarded up.
We walked on up to the Gare Du Nord. What a great looking building – such a grand facade, such elevated ceilings inside. And what historic events has this place witnessed. People waiting for trains to St Pancreas in London, to Belgium – anywhere to the North. With the great triangular window at its end it retains an air of romance that airports just don’t have. It reminded me of my time as a student traveller – with our precious EuroPass we spent a fair bit of time in this place!
Then we walked back towards the Opera. And to the a Galleries Lafayette! Here I managed what I thought may have been impossible – but no. I was able to easily acquire the lingerie I had promised myself. A beautiful looking store with its great glass dome although it looks more like a traditional department store than I remember. Now everything is arranged according to labels. Maybe it always was but I remember just rows of coloured lingerie stretching over a whole floor. Probably a misremember. The big difference from home is the number of sales people on hand willing and able to serve customers (Australian department stores should take note). A coffee place on each floor. Joe spent time in one while I got a bit caught up in sales mania. Thankfully not followed through to the purchase of any unnecessary or ill-considered ‘bargains’. I was pleased to see I could have purchased my black bag here. We did however buy another suitcase – which we’d been planning to do and this was 30% off so what the heck. Meant we looked like tourists all the way home.
Out of the store we were immediately behind the Opera House. I do remember this when I was last here. It is a very beautiful building. This phrase is becoming repetitive. We didn’t go in, burdened as we were with our new bag, but may return. That’s another recurring sentence. That is what is lovely about having a month. Although there remain lots of unexplored places on our list as well.
Following a small street we unexpectedly came upon the the Palais Royal. Where the revolution started Joe tells me. A very handsome garden with pink magnolias in bloom. A plaque about Colette, saying, I think that she spent her last years living here. (I must read the book on her that I brought with me). Very flash shops along the handsome arcades bordering the square, including Stella McCartney. Very hip and modern looking. Too dark for photos though. Some other designers there as well. And art galleries.
Then back past the front of the Bourse (we’ve previously only been around the back). I can’t go past it without thinking of the Auden poem ‘In Memory of WB Yeats’; one of my very favourite poems. It contains the line ‘When the brokers are roaring like beasts on the floor of the Bourse’. I had never heard of the Bourse although I got the drift. Now I think of Auden and Yeats and death and beauty whenever I go past this building.
Home past a jewelry shop we’d seen on our way out so I popped in (as you do) and bought my ‘collier’. Another promise to myself. So now I have all my Paris mementos – un sac noir, nouvelle lingerie and un collier!
Home at about five o clock where we’ve been since apart from a quick visit to St Eustace where we lit two candles. One for my mother and one for the bike rider. A person was practicing the organ and it sounded quite lovely in the beautiful chapel.
Pauline says
Sounds like a distressing day to start but glad you found your ‘treasures’.