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Monday Monday

Went out for a walk late afternoon yesterday, because it was, again, too beautiful to stay in. I read on a tourist website that the average temperatures in April in Paris are a high of 58 and a low of 41. On Sunday, it must have been at least 80 – 25 celsius. There’s a heat wave in Spain right now – 33 Celsius.

Gosh, I wonder what’s happening to the climate? How strange. Anyway, today, Monday, it’s back to more seasonal temperatures, which is a relief. It’s just odd to be sweltering in early April!
Speaking of global warming, I am following as much as I can bear of Canadian and American politics long distance – I watch Jon Stewart, read the Globe and the Star almost daily, and was reading the New York Times until I was cut off and asked to pay money. Imagine! Actual money! And I will probably do it, too. Anyway, the whole scene is appalling, makes me glad to be in this bubble of history, art and cheese. Thanks to Jon, I know that the disgusting Republicans in the U.S. were ready to shut down Congress over funding to Planned Parenthood; I know from an article in the “Guardian” about massive cuts to the arts in Britain, including writer’s festivals and small presses and the “Artists in the Schools” program. Very depressing.
And in Canada, the only hope so far to avoid a Tory majority is Sheila Fraser’s revelations about G20 sleaze, as if that’s a surprise.
Okay, that’s my dip into politics. Back to food, wine, and beauty. Quickly!
My walk on Sunday was just around the neighborhood. I’m in love with just about every old door I see, have to limit myself. I went back to my favourite church in Paris – well, okay, one of them – St. Etienne du Mont, close to here, next to the Pantheon. Racine and Blaise Pascal are both buried here, as is Ste. Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris. Construction began in 1492 and finished in 1626; it’s a beautiful church with a complex facade and a soaring interior, and it’s always nearly empty.
I also discovered what looks like a divine little bistro nearby, where perhaps Bruth and I will dine this week to celebrate our journey. It was so pretty, I wrote down the name and checked it on-line – rave reviews.
Wandered, took pictures, enjoyed everything, and then came home and took a photo of the fine window in this apartment, and my resting feet. I have a blister from so much walking. And yet, despite the exercise, my skirt is much tighter.
Today, Monday, I worked almost all day. There’s a tiny little torture going on for moi here – noise. During the day, some sort of massive travaux are going on nearby – deafening drilling, pounding, crashing. When it stops, at lunchtime and after work, there’s another little noise. Someone in this building has gone away, forgetting to turn off his or her alarm clock. The poor little thing has not stopped beeping every few seconds for 4 or 5 days. Beep beep beep, continuously. It’s an admirably tough little machine – must be exhausted, but has not flagged. I have to sleep with earplugs. Beep beep beep. I’d like to throw it out the window. Beep beep beep. I’d like to throw its owner out the window.
Only joking. Ha!
On my brief sorties out today, I went to Marionnaud, the cosmetics store, to talk to the wise woman I met last week, asking her all sorts of questions – for example, about eyebrows. She peered at me and confirmed, yes, that my surcils were sauvage. Savage eyebrows! Not much to be done about that. She informed me that the skin renews itself every six days and I should be scrubbing those dead cells away. While there, I tested all kinds of perfumes, and she gave me enough free samples that I don’t need to buy any. Not that I wear it, funnily enough, once I’ve left France. There’s something about France that makes wearing perfume mandatory.
And I walked down the Boulevard St. Michel to Gibert, the famous old bookstore. I was looking for a specific book about the Sixties magazines I’d read during our year here, as research for my memoir. Various people in the store were not very helpful, and I was grumbling about the supercilious French, but then a woman in the right department found me the book – both a new copy and a used one. It was enormously heavy; impossible to bring it home. So I just stood there, reading and taking notes for twenty minutes, perfectly at ease because all around me were scores of people, also browsing and poking about. When I’d finished, I apologized to her – It’s too heavy, Madame, I said, or else I would have bought it. She needed no explanation. Absolutely no problem, she said. I was happy to find it for you, and it was yours to read.
Tres tres civilisé, ce pays.
Home to eat more duck for dinner. I’ve never eaten so much duck in my life. It turned out that the packet of frozen duck I bought contained quite a lot, so I’m still ploughing through. I may be off duck for awhile after this. Not that that will be a problem back home. Not much duck being cooked up on a daily basis in old Cabbagetown.
Home! In a week! Duckless!
Beep beep beep.



One response to “Monday Monday”

  1. clothing says:

    Thank you share with us your experience, I like the post, because it has taught me a lot. Thank you to let me continuous learning everyday.

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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