Wednesday 25 April was the 70th anniversary of my birth, a day that began like any other except, of course, I was in Paris.
One of our two nearby Metro stops: line 6 at Nationale (the other is the 5 at Campo Formio):
Around mid-morning we left home and we made our way to the 8th arrondissement and the Musée Jacquemart-André (158 Boulevard Haussmann).
One of the few things on our short to-do list was see the Mary Cassatt exhibition at the J-A, a museum we had never visited. The exhibition consisted of paintings from collections around the world and was indeed impressive in both number, scope and intensity of color. Our singular complaint was the absence of bi-lingual signage; all the interpretative narrative was in French only.
Leaving the museum we walked out into a light drizzle which soon developed into warm sunshine. We made our way to the Metro and got off at Bir Hakeim (near the Eiffel Tower).
From there we walked down the Quai de Grenelle to Le Cordon Bleu where Susie was to begin her first day of a four-day bread course at 2pm (1400).
After I dropped Susie off I walked to the Charles Michel Metro (line 10) to the Le Motte-Picquet (6) and then to Nation (2) which took me to Père-Lachaise. Not only was I in Paris for my birthday but I was back in one of most favorite spots: the city of the not-quite-so-dead. I say that because there are so many living creatures walking around in search of ghosts, understanding, solitude, anything that brings them peace of mind.
After spending nearly three hours it came time to leave — I draw the line at being locked inside the cemetery since it is virtually impossible to get out once the gates are shut — so I made my way home. A little before 8pm I left the apartment and headed for the Metro and a return to Iovine for my birthday dinner; Susie would meet me there after her class finished at 8pm. After getting off the Metro at Republique I stopped at a bar for to treat myself to a glass of Suze.
Susie arrived at the restaurant shortly after me and we spent the next couple of hours enjoying good food and great company. We struck up conversations with our neighbors on both sides of the table putting to rest the notion that Parisians are snooty, finicky and reluctant to speak to Americans, a fact we’ve known for some years now through our friends Val & Hubert and Marie.
A perfect ending to a wonderful birthday.
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| view from our terrace |
One of our two nearby Metro stops: line 6 at Nationale (the other is the 5 at Campo Formio):
Around mid-morning we left home and we made our way to the 8th arrondissement and the Musée Jacquemart-André (158 Boulevard Haussmann).
One of the few things on our short to-do list was see the Mary Cassatt exhibition at the J-A, a museum we had never visited. The exhibition consisted of paintings from collections around the world and was indeed impressive in both number, scope and intensity of color. Our singular complaint was the absence of bi-lingual signage; all the interpretative narrative was in French only.
From there we walked down the Quai de Grenelle to Le Cordon Bleu where Susie was to begin her first day of a four-day bread course at 2pm (1400).
After I dropped Susie off I walked to the Charles Michel Metro (line 10) to the Le Motte-Picquet (6) and then to Nation (2) which took me to Père-Lachaise. Not only was I in Paris for my birthday but I was back in one of most favorite spots: the city of the not-quite-so-dead. I say that because there are so many living creatures walking around in search of ghosts, understanding, solitude, anything that brings them peace of mind.
After spending nearly three hours it came time to leave — I draw the line at being locked inside the cemetery since it is virtually impossible to get out once the gates are shut — so I made my way home. A little before 8pm I left the apartment and headed for the Metro and a return to Iovine for my birthday dinner; Susie would meet me there after her class finished at 8pm. After getting off the Metro at Republique I stopped at a bar for to treat myself to a glass of Suze.
Susie arrived at the restaurant shortly after me and we spent the next couple of hours enjoying good food and great company. We struck up conversations with our neighbors on both sides of the table putting to rest the notion that Parisians are snooty, finicky and reluctant to speak to Americans, a fact we’ve known for some years now through our friends Val & Hubert and Marie.
A perfect ending to a wonderful birthday.
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