postscript
This week was, on the whole, an entirely surrealistic experience.
Clouded by the US election results, but not without fun and adventure for the two of us.
Firstly, our friend Sally came for a short visit and our culinary exploits continued. We ate lunch again at Taokan then back to Pizza Chic.
On election day in the US, we elected to dine at another historic eatery here in Paris, La Coupole on Bd Montparnasse. Angèle joined the two of us for excellent choucroute and Sally opted for steak frites. This was our replacement for the horrible Brasserie Lipp. Waiters and food so much better!
Wednesday was a surreal day in more than one sense:
We had already booked tickets for the three of us to visit the Centre Pompidou to see the Surrealism exhibit, one of the most extensive shows of the genre ever, and included (of course) Magritte, Arp, Max Ernst, Miró, Picasso, Klee, Dalí, Man Ray … and those are just the names I am familiar with.
While Scott and Sally enjoyed the exhibition immensely, I found it, well, disturbing. Erotic, scary, beautiful, otherworldly and in the end, simply disturbing. It was nice we ended up back at Cafe Laperouse, where we once again had a lovely, lingering lunch. The waiters remembered us and we lingered because we could. Our guy even brought us dessert, not because we asked for it, but because he liked us. The afternoon there took away some of the strangeness of a wholly surreal day.
We also took Sally back to our favourite, Pizza Chic. But let me tell you about a really cool cocktail bar up on Bd St. Germain, Craven, recommended by Angèle. It’s not pronounced as you’d expect, rather, the a is pronounced ah. The bar is actually several, in several stories, housed in a building dating from the 17th century. They haven’t finished the upper stories yet, but given that the first two floors are lively and elegant, we look forward to seeing the rest. And once again we are recognised and acknowledged by the owners.
We said goodbye to Sally on Thursday and turned our attention a little further afield, because Scott had found a true Mexican restaurant we wanted to try: Anahuacalli down past the Musée Cluny and just around the corner off Bd St. Germain on Rue des Bernardins in the Fifth Arrondissement. It’s not TexMex and it’s not California Mex, although there were some crossovers: we started with lots of guacamole and chips, chicken taquitos and then cochinita pibil with black beans and the very authentic fresh cheese ‘queso fresco’. Scott had gorgeous cheese enchiladas. Margaritas and beer.
I was stuffed to the gills and very very happy.
And very sleepy. Back to the flat for a lie-down before dinner with Angèle.
We met at Craven for a pre-dinner cocktail, the Royal Basilique: Champagne with essence of basil flowers.
Dinner was at Yen, an authentic Japanese restaurant specialising in soba noodles.
Friday being our last day, we managed a Farewell Tour of sorts, beginning at Craven for our usuals: Royal Basilique and Mad Collins (ginger, gin and fizzy water).
On to Pizza Chic.
And lastly, to our Grand Café Dragon, which was, BTW, hopping with young people. We were lucky to get a table, but of course the manager found one just for us.
We’ve told everyone we’ll be back in April.
This has been only the second time I have spent more than a week at a time in Paris (the first back in 1975 for an extended French course), and it has been so much fun to pretend we’re locals. Locals don’t gawk at the scenery or almost get hit by crazy bicyclists (mostly) and even direct tourists when they’re lost.
There is something to be said about slow tourism - spending weeks in one place - rather than a day here a day there. I know when we return to Paris, and indeed to Naples next year, the friends and acquaintances we’ve made will welcome us back.
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