Ah, Paris

This is such a meeting place for the world. One hears so many languages on the street. I'm not nearly as embarrassed by my poor French as I was, nor is it as necessary as last time. So many people speak English, locals and tourists alike. Of course we are immediately spotted as English speakers. We were standing in line at the Notre Dame and the gentleman in front of us asked us whether we spoke English; he had some questions. I asked where he was from: India. And I laughed in sympathy with a tired middle-aged Asian woman in the Orangerie elevator. Not knowing her language I didn't comment aloud. But she spoke to me in English. She was from Hong Kong. Then we struck up a conversation on the bus with a couple with a strong accent, who were complaining about the heat. That surprised me; they sure looked Indian. But having lived in Minnesota for over 25 years, 90 degrees was as wilting to them as it was to me.

The scooters are bigger than they used to be; I keep mistaking them for motorcycles. And now there must be helmet laws. It amazed me to see a woman wearing a motorcycle helmet and rhinestone sandals. 

Fewer people smoke, and it doesn't seem to be all Gauloises. And in fact, it appears to be an outdoor activity. Maybe it's no longer OK indoors.

Last time I was here I was struck by the uniformity of dress. It seemed there was one general look, and every woman wore a variant of it. Now I'm hard put to find any commonalities. Every possible skirt length and dress shape, A few possible themes I notice, or make up out of what catches my eye. The color of the season seems to be a brilliant vermillion orange. Sheer black overskirts or tunics over shorter black garments can look either graceful or absurd. And it seems torn jeans will never go out of fashion, especially over fishnets. or other underlayers. But perhaps the most noticeable to me was a young man (20's? 30's?) in what looked like a fairly form-fitting (nice butt) toddler's sunsuit in a print like a geometric tie.

So what's the difference between a 55 euro dinner and a 110 euro dinner?

For one thing, one claims 8 courses, brings 4 at once, then two separately, then two together, for a total of 4. Okay, five with the bread.

The other claims 6 courses, and brings 16 separate items, one at a time. Well, it's true I'm counting the bread, but they brought three successive breads, and butter with the first, for which we had to ask at the other place. 

I loved the fancy one. Nels preferred the somewhat more simple one. A treat to try both. Our neighborhood restaurants seem consistently good also.

The Orangerie at last. Monet's Water Lilies. The last time I was here was 49 years ago with my father, who adored Monet's work. I believe I can see more in the canvases now, despite my ageing eyes. No wonder my dad was excited about those canvases. They were contemporary with his youth (painted 1920 -1926). I had thought they were historic, even to him.

There were two things I like better in Reykjavik than in Paris - the botanic garden and the weather. It's in the 90s here the past couple of days. The peonies were barely in bud in Iceland, and already lost their blossoms here. Ah, Paris. Was walking home from the botanic garden. Got tired, found a cafe, ordered ice cream and tea, looked up and across the river, there was Notre Dame. Pulled out the binoculars, studied the details of the part we could see between the trees. Later went inside. While we were looking at the carvings they started playing the organ and singing. And we walked out into the sound of bells ringing for mass.

Nels likes it here, we briefly imagine living here. Then I realize how I would miss my garden.