Paris on a Sunday

yesterday was Sunday, and i spent it milling around on my own until meeting up later in the evening with Kevin for dinner in a cafe in Montmartre. folks were crammed into the place, and i had a Salade Gourmande, which was huge and topped with sliced potatoes lightly sauteed in garlic til just maybe 10% crispy. d.e.l.i.c.i.o.u.s

i noticed several families, with children ranging from infants to older, all enjoying themselves. this put me in mind of the Hennen clan out in Minneapolis. charles and brenda have been taking their kids, Jack, Claire and Hazel to restaurants since they were in diapers and who now (all between the ages of 6-8) like nothing more than going out for a good meal. well, except for Jack, who might prefer a good old fashioned sword fight, as in, "Say your last words peasant!!" but even then, he'd be glad to arrange for the duel for either before or after dinner.

i spent most of Sunday milling around taking snaps here and there. in Belleville i walked up to the parc and joined those just resting on a hill.

and while heading back down to the Metro stop passed by the birthplace of Edith Piaf, who, as the plaque outside declares, was born in the utmost poverty and went on to move the world with her singing. true dat.

the neighborhood is almost completely Asian these days, and i ran into a very large, handsome and potentially unwieldy wedding party just getting started.

it was then that i decided to try and make it over to Grands Boulevards for a crepe and ended up getting slightly lost. while trying to find my bearings i came across a playground with a bandstand filled with elderly folks playing the song, Tequila, to a crowd of children and their parents. and yes, that Tequila.

i never ended up at Grands Boulevards, but i did pick up a baguette and head over to the Tuilleries, which was filled with folks walking, jogging, reading ... and of course smoking and drinking. i sat and ordered a Bruge Blanche, and then took a walk around before heading up to Montmartre for dinner.

the air was soft and the sky unruly against the statuary.



Perfect weather for reading by the fountain which teems with underwater plant life and algae.



and then off to Montmartre for dinner, when another spring rain began. we headed up the hill after to get a view of Paris as night began to fall ...



***
the thing i've noticed while writing this blog, is how often i go after the same sensation from any particular milieu, and how often this sensation is directly linked to a piece of music or lyrics. and there is often this wistful quality, which, you know, i think a fella has to be careful with. it's like salt - just the right amount brings out flavor. too much, and not only is the meal ruined, but you may face a lifetime of blood pressure meds.

that said, while making my way around the city, i couldn't help but reference the lyrics from Scott Walker singing a certain old Tony Bennett number ...

Every town was Paris
Every day was Sunday
Every month was May