Le Chat

As this event occurred early in the day, I will start with the story of the cat, as promised. Note that the long-haired black cat, one white sock, was the first player to leave the stage after having entered unseen by the other players.

I left the apartment without coffee as I wanted to reach “xyz” museum early. I’m in the area of Forum de Les Halles, near Rue Rambuteau, passing a café when I decide to stop for a café crème and to check my e-mails. What is a few minutes here, there, somewhere else. I am about to leave when I notice a waiter attempting to catch a tiny bird. For his two steps, stooping, hands outstretched, the bird hops away. Another few steps, the tiny bird covers some more ground toward a stand of motorcycles. The waiter is joined by two others who more than likely are chiding the him, asking what is he doing. I sense that the bird is injured and he is trying to capture it. One more attempt is made to swoop up the helpless creature. The three men are in a loose circle near the stand of motorcycles . . . quick as a snap of the fingers Le chat pounces for the bird, with feathers blooming from its mouth, streaks pass the tables, straight into the café’s open front door. The waiter who wanted to help, was moaning very loudly, striking his forehead. Everyone else watching, including me, held our breathe for a second. We had been caught up in the mini drama, especially the swiftness of its occurrence. Animal lovers, those are the facts.


In the tradition of Flânerie
I must be moving on to my destination. However, to be honest, I will say now that I do not reach it. I am repeatedly sidetracked until the day ends in Luxembourg Garden under fast moving dark clouds threatening rain, then it does for a few minutes. The sun had been out amidst wispy clouds only fifteen minutes earlier.

I round the corner of Forum de Les Halles toward the Bourse du Commerce. (You might pass this way if you were looking for the Pompidou Centre, but actually you are going the wrong way (turn around retrace your steps).) As I pass Église Saint-Eustache, I notice a sculpture in front that I had not seen before. Well, “xyz” museum can wait. I proceed to enter the church recalling that restoration work has been ongoing for some time.

I’m immediately overwhelmed again by the loft and height of the columns. The volume of the church demands to be examined more closely. I read later that government budget constraints limit the amount and pace of the reconstruction work. Saint-Eustache is just one of many churches owned and partially financed by the government. Two chapels were recently completed, but stand out starkly in a church that has been neglected.

Stay in one place long enough, the show comes to you. Heading for the exit, I pause to figure out why there is a new crowd gathering around the podium, chairs and music stands set up in front of the altar. I had assumed they were there from a previous event, but were, indeed, intended for a scheduled evening concert. I lingered for another hour or so enjoying a rehearsal of the Radio France choral group (Le Choeur de Radio France) accompanied by Saint-Eustache‘s organ. Much better than television. The rumMM, rumMM, eium eiumM of the organ was just great. I had to pull myself away before it was over. I hope the group had a good evening.

If you should ever find yourself on Rue du Louvre, go in the right direction (I needed my compass as well as my map). I was fine walking along until the time sped on and I started to wonder when the place was going to show up, maybe at the next corner. Rue Montmartre, Blvd. Montmartre . . . I wasn‘t too worried, because I‘m in Paris I just kept walking .

On Blvd. Montmartre, I’m instantly drawn into several passages. Two are across the road from each other. Passage des Panoramas and Passage Jouffroy. The first has many shops devoted to the buying and selling of postage stamps and far too many restaurants for the space.

The other had fewer shops, but one where I crossed the threshold. It was worth stopping and the steady stream of customers clued me to the fact that it was a popular place (okay, I agree it’s for tourist) -- self-serve cookie counter (fabulous flavors); wrapped hard candies; hard candies made to look like olives have chocolate centers; brightly colored tin boxes for gift packaging and more. La Cure Gourmande, 10 blvd. Montmartre, www.la-cure-gourmande.com.

As I write this, I'm finishing the buttery cookies I bought, with a cup of Kenyan coffee.

There was one passage further on after I turned a corner to Rue de Richelieu, the “coolest” one yet (Passage des Princes). All the shops were devoted to kids.
This is the area, 2nd arrondissement, of the Bourse, Bibliothèque Nationale-Richelieu, and the Hôtel de Poste (an impressive building). The places definitely had a tinge of no-nonsense business, including the sight of young men in suit and tie (smokers in front of a building), or women in business attire heading home for the evening.
I see I’ve run too long. To wrap up: time to start home, much, too much walking and the skies are very gloomy. I found a convenient bus stop, took a bus heading for the Luxembourg Garden, and rested there before it rained.