Paris

Bonjour Paris! Pour Deux S’il Vous Plait
August 25-September 1, 2007

We were in Paris less than 48 hours when we got yelled at and called, “ You fucking bitches!”, by this deli chef in this neighborhood of Passy, in the 16th arrondisement, where we rented a 1-bedroom apartment for our pied-a-terre for a week in this lively, incomparable city of lights, la ville de lumières.
It was on our 2nd day, a Sunday. We slept late, catching up with the 6-hour jet lag and the 4-hour flight delay from the States. Evelyn wanted to go to church, but all the masses in our neighborhood were over after 12:30 PM, so we decided to start our sightseeing in Sacre Coeur, hoping to catch a mass there. We bought a discounted packet of 10 metro subway tickets for E11, a saving of E3, took line 6 to Pasteur, then line 12 and got off on the Abbesses stop for what we thought was a short walk to Sacre Coeur. We didn’t know until we reached the top of the stairs at Abbesses that there was an elevator. We emerged out on Montmarte panting and with tachycardia after an ascent of over 30 meters up endless steps winding around and around a colorful stairwell of tile mosaic and painted walls and art nouveau lighting fixtures, and out into the street through an art deco bronze and iron cast gate, just one of 2 remaining original metro entrances designed by famed architect Hector Guimard. Well, that was ahh, exhilarating, and really lovely. We walked to a bustling and festive street scene with a carousel on one street corner and street musicians and happy children playing, and bistros and cafes and shops lining up the narrow cobblestone alleys and the sun bright and warming the cool air and rendering brilliant red and pink geraniums on balconies, and we were filled with excitement. This was how we envisioned our Paris visit would be. We sat al fresco at Cafe Consulat and had a marvelous lunch and a glass of wine. Climbing steps again to the Montmarte butte, where the resplendent Basilica of the Sacred Heart stood majestically over Paris, we passed the last remaining wooden windmill of Montmarte and the smaller cemetery of St. Vincent. We had luck on a mass at 4 PM and so we felt fulfilled in our obligations. We took the funicular down to Pigalle just for the fun of it, cruised the souvenir shops, and because of Evelyn’s objections, I passed on checking the sex shops for toys and passed on the Moulin Rouge Cancan Revue. She also declined to dine in the Pigalle area, so we took the Metro back to Passy and since it was very late, we decided to just stop by the Deli Cafe a block from the metro station and pick up a carry out. The deli chef was charming and was bantering with us, asking where we’re from, showing off his English, joking, even flirting a little, we thought. Then he started adding our purchases in French and we couldn’t keep up with the numbers, and he said his cash register wasn’t working right, so he couldn’t tally the items, then he wouldn’t accept a credit card, and when we pressed, he said our card wasn’t going through, but he was swiping it wrong and we were showing him how to, and we asked him again to review our purchases for accuracy, when he got all bent out of shape, and became upset, and accused us of calling him a liar, so I told him to stop and and just focus on completing our purchase, and he got all excited about the credit card not going through so I said, Ok just get this over with and I’ll give you cash but listen, I’m very displeased, and if we were so inclined we’d go someplace else, but we prefer to go ahead with the purchase. then he started to yell that we can take our business somewhere else, and started to say something about you Philippine women, so I told him, don’t go there, and just shut up and finish. That’s when he went into apoplexy and called us the b-name for everyone on the take out line and the seated cafe patrons to hear. We got our food and told him he can count on us not to set foot on his premises again, and I decided not to give him the finger, and we left calmly instead without saying another word.
We have planned this trip for a year after reminiscing about Julma, our high school classmate from Colegio de Santa Isabel in Naga City, who became a nun and who we learned was based in Paris in the mother house of the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul. Sr. Julma C. Neo, Daughter of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul, is serving at present as a General Councillor of her Congregation, the first Asian to be elected to that position. Before her election to their General Council, she was Provincial of her congregation in The Philippines. In that capacity, she also served as Chairperson of the Association of Major Superiors of Women Religious in The Philippines. She has assisted her religious order as writer, participant and as speaker / resource person. Before her investiture in the order she was a TOYM awardee.
On the 18th of July 1830, the Holy Virgin appeared to Catherine Labouré in the chapel of the convent of the Filles de la Charité, La Chapelle Notre-Dame de la Médaille Miraculeuse 140, rue du Bac 75340 Paris cedex 07. Catherine Labouré was at that time preparing herself to become a sister. On the 28th of November, the Holy Virgin entrusted Catherine with the miraculous medal and this gave birth to a new devotion to the Blessed Virgin. At the time of Catherine's death, two billion miraculous medals had already been made. Today, two millions pilgrims visit the chapel each year. Fervent celebrations are held everyday and make the chapel the second pilgrimage in France after Lourdes.
Evelyn, Noy and I had developed a tradition after Johnny’s death, of spending August summers around my birthday in Evelyn’s lakeside home in Sturgis MI. We googled Julma there while hanging out last year and I wrote her at the Rue du Bac address. She e-mailed back promptly, so excited to hear from us. Her calendar was very full and we managed to find mutually available dates for August but when our trip finally came together for the week of August 25-September 1, she was suddenly called to go to Indonesia, leaving only August 25, my birthday, available for our visit. Noy could not make it as she had a car accident last winter which disabled her for months and consumed all her leave days. Evelyn, who suffered flying phobia which severely curtailed her mobility, had to pull herself by her bootstraps to muster the courage to make this trip. Having a reunion with Julma after 48 years was the motivation and she distinguished herself with a purple heart on this trip. She was a trouper, and the Lady at rue du Bac proved her miraculous powers. Evelyn is now cured of her flying phobia and is already making plans for her next trip.
Our US flight was 4 hours late of its 8:24 AM arrival at CDG and Julma had checked on our arrival twice already, so our gardienne, the apartment landlady, informed us, and was waiting to have lunch with us. So we put our bags down and without changing our travel clothes, we took the metro to Sevres Babylone and crossed the street from Bon Marche to 140 rue du Bac, and there was Julma and us all choked up after leaving each other as girls in 1959 and meeting again for the first time across oceans and continents and time.
We walked in the convent’s tranquil and bright gardens, she introduced us to her colleagues, all very touched and happy about our remarkable reunion, we toured the conference facilities and the public quarters, she talked about the challenges of dwindling religious postulants, her work in southeast Asia, her experiences in Paris, her wish to return and do work in the Philippines. We observed her attitude of obedience and service, her calm and serenity, her open-mindedness and lack of proseletyzing, and I marvel. Of course, she’s fluent in French. She took us around the convent’s neighborhood, among its streets and alleys. We looked for a place to have a late lunch and most restaurants have stopped lunch service, so we ended up in a Vietnamese fast food place and lingered over coffee until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer, and had to go. We stopped at Bon Marche food section to purchase take out food for dinner, and threw in a bottle of wine and some cheese and pastries for breakfast. It was great to see Julma, it felt like we’ve always been together, just picked up where we left off. I have since reviewed what’s in google about her. I’m very proud of her and very happy for her. I told her I cried and I was confused when I learned she entered the nunnery, that I felt sorry for her, that I thought the sisters brainwashed her, and why be a nun when there were so many young men we knew together who’ve got crushes on her. I know of course that she gave this deep thought and that she’s very learned about her catholic religion and she has actively chosen this life, and the elusive thing I cannot grasp, she has faith. I honestly cannot say that I gave much thought or active choosing of the life course I’m living, but I love my life just the same.
Evelyn and I were on our own then in Paris. We decided to take the hop on hop off tourist waterbus to see the sights. I was familiar with most of the tourist sites as this was my 4th trip to Paris, but I was not taking charge in any of those trips, and here Evelyn was counting on me to have a memorable trip. The waterbus route was super. It offered a unique view of Paris from the Seine, it did not have to contend with traffic and the noise and heat of concrete and exhaust fumes. We had a cool and sunny day to explore the Musee d’Orsay, which was closed on Mondays unfortunately, the Notre Dame and the Latin quarter, St. Germain-des Pres, the Hotel de Ville, which now is the seat of the City municipal government and the nearby le Marais, emerging as the trendsetter of Paris chic and urbanity, the bridges, Pont Alexander, Pont Neuf, Pont Royal, Pont des Arts, Pont de la Concorde, and the bridge to Passy where our apartment was , Pont de Bir Hakiem, which was a mere 10 minute walk to the Tour Eiffel. We got off at the Louvre, went under the glass pyramid to check out the amenities, the mall, restaurants, the underground lay out. We skipped visiting the art galleries as we had no time, reserving this for a more leisurely visit, instead we shopped the museum mall for souvenirs. I bought 3 children’s books and a pair of medieval masks which I forgot on the bench at the Louvre waterbus stop, and 3 days of checking with the tour company did not succeed in returning them. We strolled the nearby Tuileries gardens and found a shaded bench to watch people pass by and to rest our feet. The waterbus terminus is at the foot of the Eiffel tower so we put this last on our tour, planning to have dinner at the halfway platform of the tower at the Jules Verne Restaurant, but alas, it was closed for renovations. We stopped by a bistro in the Grenelle neighborhood. On the way home, as we crossed the bridge to the right bank of the Seine, the Eiffel tower stood against the night sky, bathed in golden light. In the train every night as it crosses the Bir Hakiem bridge we can see the Eiffel emerge from the tree tops, and if the time is right we can catch it covered with twinkling lights dancing all over its surface. I caught it one night alongside the moon, and I got a great picture.
We wanted a taste of Paris shopping so on the 4th day we took the metro to the Opera, and started on Haussman Boulevard, and checked out Galleries Lafayette, and Printemps, then took a breather at Cafe La Paix for lunch, then proceeded to Place Vendome and checked out all the mouth-watering baubles at Cartier, Van Cleef and Arpels, Boucheron, and the like. We lost ourselves browsing on rue St Honore, the boulevard Capucine and rue Royal. We splurged on Louis Vuitton presents. We went home excited with our purchases and wanted to deposit them before going out for dinner in a nice restaurant. By this time we were getting tired of bistro menu, we’ve ordered them all and we wanted something real nice, like grilled fresh fois gras or cotes de veau. Horrors, we forgot our key inside the apartment. We got into the ante foyer by using the code at the door 3436B, which we remember by thinking of bra sizes which do not fit us. We got into the inside foyer through a resident who happened to arrive. The gardienne, Lydia, is the homebody sort who was always around the whole time we were there until tonight. We have waited over an hour until Danielle, a resident in the building for 25 years arrived who knew Lydia and knew that she was babysitting for a friend that night and knew how to contact her there by phone. Lydia arrived all flustered to discover she left her keys too in her apartment! Mon Dieu! But not to worry, her son lives upstairs and has a key to her apartment. Voila, we all got in and found our keys where we left them on the mantle. By this time, it was too late to eat anywhere but we found a Chinese buffet in Passy, about to close for the night but the owner allowed us to have the remaining scraps in the trays. The next day we took the RER train for a day of designer outlet shopping in La Vallee Village, 35 minutes east of Paris. You get off one stop before Disneyland Paris, at Val d’Europe. We had to learn the hard way that the Paris metro tickets are not good for the suburban RER trains. The exit turnstyle wouldn’t open for us until we paid the supplement price of E4.50. I didn’t get too excited in these outlet stores, as I can get better deals at Loehmann’s and at Sak’s and Parisian when they hold their super discount sales.
Everybody goes to Versailles when they visit Paris, so we took another RER to travel 25 minutes southwest of Paris to view the setting of the opulent lifestyle that took the monarchy down, and cost Marie Antionette her head. It was a beautiful day, we took our time, lingered in the gardens, took long walks to the Grand trianon and the petit Trianon and to Marie Antionette’s hamlet. What a grand way to play country maid. We had a delightful lunch at the La Petite Venise, a wonderfully conceived restaurant in the old boat house that once housed the King’s Venetian gondoliers and oarsmen.
Ho hum, this touring is already wearing us down and we’re just about ready to settle to a quiet day of reading or watching TV but our TV is all in French, and the apartment does not have enough lighting good for reading, and we have places we haven’t been yet. We’ve been losing sleep because this charming apartment with its high ceilings and lovely embossed ceiling trays, herringbone-patterned wood floors, antique furnishings, and art on the walls, has no sound insulation at all and in fact the walls acts like conductors of the feeblest sound from elsewhere in the building. We could hear footfalls above, the rustling of paper, conversations,the rush of water in the pipes, the roar of flushing toilets, and the heavy metal clang of the iron elevator outside our door. Lydia, who communicates with us in Spanish since she knows no English and we know no French, bustles noisily in the early morning in the courtyard dragging garbage bins and rattling them every which ways and running the water hose inside the bins which acts like a drum in a marching band. But she’s a dear otherwise, very helpful and friendly. She arranged our airport shuttle and gave us tips and directions. We gave her a bottle of Bordeaux in appreciation.
On our last day we took the metro to Etoile and visited the arc d’ triomphe, then walked down Champs Elysee to the Place de Concorde. We hunted down the restored art deco covered shopping arcades and galleries, popular Parisian hangouts at the turn of the century, the prototype of the modern shopping malls. We started on Rue Rivoli and Rue du Louvre to track rue Jean Jacques-Rosseau and find Galerie Vero- Dodat, then Galerie Vivienne and Galerie Colbert. Along the vicinity of Palais Royal and Rue St Denis we stumbled on Passage Jouffroy , Choisuel, de Perron,among many. These are in various stages of restoration.They are very charming with mosaic tiled floors, wood paneling at store fronts and glass domed ceilings. We meandeared along the Grand Boulevards, des Italiens, des Capucines, Rue royal, watched a dance performance on the square at Place Colette. We found ourselves on Boulevard Montmarte and was amazed at the distance we’ve covered. We had dinner in a nice restaurant and went back to Passy to pack. We didn’t have any problem getting our VAT refund at the airport and the flight back was almost on time, just half an hour late, and customs was a breeze, after all we didn’t bring in any Frenchman! Au revoir Paris, vous voir bientôt.