Feed them on your dreams - Anselm and Margriet in Paris
 

“Un dessert ou un café, monsieur?” The waiter had just lifted away my plate, cutlery, and wine glass. “Un café, s’il vous plait.”

The espresso arrived in a white cup, which I twisted so that I could read the lettering on the side: lavAzzu. I picked up the tube of sugar, held it for a few seconds between the tips of my fingers, and tore off the end. I tilted some into the cup and stirred. There was a tiny clink when I replaced the spoon on the saucer. I could smell coffee, warm food, and a hint of cigarette smoke. I raised the cup, sipped, and gazed out into the street. Paris.

I arrived on the morning of February 8th; Margriet, my wife, arrived on the 15th. Kate, our daughter, and Graham, her boyfriend, joined us on the 16th. They all flew home on the 24th, while I went on to Montpellier to see a friend. I returned home on the 28th.

I’m going to post a description of the apartments we rented and some notes on the trip. Margriet has agreed to be our food reporter. We’ll talk a bit about what the kids did. Along the way we’ll put in links to our photos.

<b>The first apartment: Thanks, fishee</b>

Inspired by fishee’s post about VRBO #28993, I booked it for the week I was to be in Paris by myself. The apartment is on rue de Saintonge in the 3rd, just a few doors south of rue de Bretagne. Two weeks before my arrival, Guy, the owner, wrote to say that he and Jean-Michel would be away when I arrived, but that Ilana, his neighbour, would meet me. “Between 10:30 and 12:30,” Guy wrote, “she must go to work, but it’s only two blocks from our place and she can quit her job for a moment and come give you the keys … you have to call her at your arrival.”

I was aiming to arrive well before 10:30, but as luck would have it, my flight was late. I bought a phone card at CDG and taxied in, fretting that I would have to find a phone booth. I arrived seven minutes late; Ilana was waiting.

When the elevator reached the hallway outside the apartment, the first thing I saw through the glass door was a penguin (or was it a puffin?) wearing a waiter’s uniform. There were plants and flowers on the stairs; mirrors and Chinese calligraphy hung on the walls.

Once inside, the apartment was exactly as shown on VRBO: www.vrbo.com/28993. You walk into the kitchen area; the bathroom is off to the right. Just past the kitchen are the bed, dresser, bedside table, and chairs. Beyond are the double doors to the balcony, where there is a table and two chairs. You can see the thoughtful touch of the owners in many little details, such as the two booklets of information on local amenities and restaurants. These are illustrated with photographs, maps, instructions, and menus.

I had the pleasure of meeting Guy and Jean-Michel and two of their four cats. (The Siamese—shy but curious—sat on my lap.) These men are welcoming, helpful, and kind.

I liked the neighbourhood. In the space of a couple of blocks along rue de Bretagne, there is the small March&eacute; des Enfants Rouge, plus butchers, bakers, wine shops, banks, caf&eacute;s, restaurants, green grocers, grocery stores, a fish store, and a cheese shop. The nearest Metro station is Filles de Calvaire, about five minutes from the apartment door. The street and the building are quiet.

I would recommend this apartment for anyone travelling alone. It would also work for two, although Margriet and I prefer more space when travelling together. There are, however, many entries in the guestbook from couples who have been very happy there.

Next: living on rue de Saintonge and the second apartment.

hi, anselm

great start - I thought I'd segued [?spelling] onto the wrong thread, and was reading a maigret novel.

regards, ann

Thanks Anselm, anxiously awaiting more...

Anselm - you really have a wonderful writing style. I'm enjoying your report.

I have what is probably a naive or dumb question - I've been considering renting an apartment on my next Paris trip. You mention that there were resident cats in the apartment. Did you know that ahead of time? I didn't see them mentioned on the website. I ask because I am allergic to cats and would never have thought to inquire about cats in the apartment. It would be a problem for me whether they were there when I was or if there were away because their dander will remain on the furniture. Thanks!

ann, cobbie, cls2paris, thanks. If you love a city it's easier to write about it.

I should have been more clear about the cats! There are no cats in VRBO 28993. The cats are in Guy and Jean-Michel's apartment, which is in the same building. Guy had invited me to drop by for a drink. Sorry for the confusion.

Anselm

Thanks, Anselm! I didn't read it clearly. I saw the word &quot;cat&quot; and my mind just raced! :)

Looking forward to the rest of your report.

I have been waiting for this!!!...and I am not disappointed.
Now my quandary is whether to wait until it's all posted and splurge like Pavarotti at an all-you-can-eat buffet OR eke it out like a condemned man with an ice cream cone, lick by lick.

Hot diggity-dog... or &quot;sauccise chaud&quot; or some such...
One of my favorite writers...all about my favorite town!
Hip hip...hooray!
Lick by lick Robjame...savor

robjame, that has to be one of the funniest posts I have ever read here.

As you requested, there will be no photos of cats or flowers. Unfortunately, there won't be many food pictures either, as Kate kept forgetting to bring her camera when we went out to dinner. You'll have to make do with Margriet's food posts.

Anselm

<b>Living on rue de Saintonge</b>

I met a childhood friend for dinner on Friday evening at a restaurant on rue de Charonne. It was after midnight when we finished our meal. We walked back to Bastille, where we parted. I rode the Metro a short distance, then walked down rue des Filles du Calvaire towards the apartment. It had been raining; I watched the sidewalk turn from red to green in the reflected light of a traffic signal. There was an occasional car, the buzz of a motorbike, and the footsteps of another pedestrian walking on the other side of the street. I was soon at the apartment, where I tapped out the code, pushed open the door, and stepped into the hall. I reached out in darkness to touch the light switch. There are times when you feel you are a part of this city.

I was a <i>flaneur</i> in Paris, strolling great distances, re-visiting familiar haunts, and exploring other areas for the first time. In eight previous visits I had failed to see Montmartre, so I followed the walk recommended in the Michelin Guide. Despite it being a cool day with gusty winds, there were crowds in Place Tertre and around Sacr&eacute;-Coeur. Once west of rue du Mont-Cenis, however, the streets were deserted. The walk down rue Cortot and then on past the vineyard and Cimeti&egrave;re St-Vincent was delightful. And for those who have wondered, as they have climbed that spiral staircase at Abbesses Metro station, just how many steps there are, Michelin says 280.

I also wanted to look at Belleville. Starting at the Belleville Metro stop, I followed the Michelin walking route through this fascinating neighbourhood. True, there are plain, modern buildings, but the route shows off intriguing passageways and charming villas with small gardens. Parc de Belleville is a gem, a terraced oasis that offers striking views over Paris. I wandered through the park, followed for a while by a young man who was singing. There is a vine-covered stairway in the middle of the park; climbing the stairs is like walking in a tunnel.

Late one afternoon I bought six oysters at the fish shop on rue de Bretagne, then went a few doors down the street to the green grocer for a lemon. That evening, I opened the bag of oysters and inhaled ocean air, seaweed, and iodine. Standing over the sink, I pried them open, delighted that I hadn’t stabbed the heel of my hand. I put the half-shells on a plate, squeezed a few drops of lemon over each, poured a glass of chilled Chablis, and sliced some baguette. These were the best oysters that I have ever eaten.

On my second day, I was walking along rue R&eacute;aumur when a woman stopped me to ask directions. Distracted, I let the bag holding my camera slip off my shoulder and fall to the sidewalk. I picked it back up, got her pointed towards boulevard de S&eacute;bastopol, and walked home feeling cold. Amazingly, the camera still worked, although it wouldn’t focus on anything closer than two metres. It could have been so much worse.

Great style, Anselm.
A trip report on Paris written with style - what could be more appropriate ?
I liked your beginning as well as your well organised detail, and am awaiting to read more.

On y va !

Mathieu

Reading this, I think I actually know Jean-Michel's ex, who lived in the same building until about 4 years ago, but in a different apartment. Small world.

Hi, again, anselm,

how did you stop at 6? [oysters that is] my only limit is the number i can open without needing the ambulance.

?flaneur?

regards, ann

flaneur

&quot;An idle man-about-town; a lounger, gossiper.&quot;

:-)

I love your sytle, Anselm, and look forward to more.

SusieC et Mathieu, many thanks. Kerouac, small world indeed.

ann, nukesafe has it right. Historically a well-dressed man of leisure (so I half fit that description) who strolled about the city, observing more than participating ...

And I just realized I left out an accent. It's supposed to be fl&acirc;neur. Blush.

Anselm

Love your report so far and can't wait for the rest -- such lovely writing!! It sounds like the beginning of a Cara Black book.

What would be the term for a female &quot;flaneur,&quot; because that's my very favorite thing to do in Paris (when I'm not sitting at a cafe!). However, don't know the language enough to gossip!!

joy/luvparee

P.S. I still have the tube of sugar I brought home on my 2004 trip! Can't bear to use it.

You've got me hooked! Love your writing style. Can't wait for your next entry. :)

Hi, Anselm.
I'm loving your report. It is making me even more eager, if that is possible, to get back to Paris.
More, please.
Judy

Oh, this is going to be good! Like a hot chocolat from Angelina's on a cold Parisian day...something to savour.

Thanks Anselm!

(luvparee: that would be fl&acirc;neuse)