A Little Gift from Heaven

Thursday, October 11. The usual morning: cafe au lait, muesli with peach (yesterday pear, reminds me of the book "Each Peach Pear Plum"), shower, French homework, blog. On my way to the Metro, I notice one of the lighted signs (that have announcements that change continually) with this message "Un parisian, un arbre" - Luttez contre l'effect de serre, creez des forets! followed by a website which I'll check out later. Also see a very well-dressed woman (wearing a black suit with skirt and stockings), bien coiffee, with her briefcase in the basket of her bike!

Class at AF. This may be my last one for a while. Haven't decided whether I want to continue or just work on my own with Camille. Pick up green beans and aubergine at Gilles Verot.

Librarie La Procure. Instead of heading directly home, I stroll around the 6th for a while with no particular goal in mind, just wandering aimlessly. A big bookstore, Librarie La Procure, draws me in. (Address: 3, rue de Mezieres) I find the books I'm looking for and some I wasn't looking for! Here they are:
-Exercises de style, by Raymond Queneau
-La grammaire est une chanson douce, by Erik Orsenna
-Honni soit qui mal y pense: L'incroyable histoire d'amour entre le francais et l'anglais, by Henriette Walter (here's a book that was written just for me!)
-And two little books, one on verb conjugation and one on the etymology of "gros mots" (bad words).

I stop in to check out the Hotel de l'Abbaye on rue Cassette. We stayed here once in the '70s, and it's even more lovely now. It has four stars! I ask for "une petite carte" and one of the receptionists comes around the desk with a brochure and a price list, and then gives me a little tour of the public rooms and the terrace. Very sweet.

Saint Sulpice. I decide to detour into Saint Sulpice to see the chapel Delacroix was decorating when he moved to r. Furstenberg and find a service going on. I arrive in the middle but in time to hear Cantique de Racine by Faure, which is heavenly. There are hundreds of people at this service, celebrating the 150th anniversary of Oeuvre des Campagnes (complete with glossy printed program and presided over by Cardinal Philippe Barbarin, Archbishop of Lyon). According to an insert in the program, this is a charitable organization that provides assistance to the rural clergy in France. There's a list of what they funded in 2006, and one entry reads: helped 54 priests change, repair or maintain their cars.

I sit through the rest of the mass in order to hear the postlude, the Tocatta from Symphony No. 5 in F by Charles-Marie Widor, one of the most thrilling organ works I know. Not many stay for the postlude (it's the same all over) but there is a handful of hard-core music lovers. The main doors of the church are wide open (very unusual) so the well-dressed crowd can disburse more quickly, and as I'm standing there listening, I'm imagining the music floating out over the rooftops of Paris. What a gift to hear this music in this setting.

Finally, I visit the chapel decorated by Delacroix. As I'm about to leave, the verger is closing the main doors so I'm the last one to sneak out through them. Each of them is at least 5' wide and 20' high. Can't imagine what they must weigh.

It's almost dark when I leave (about 7:45). I catch the Metro at St Sulpice, and the train is unbelieveably crowded. I guess this is what passes for rush hour? It's the first time I've been on it when it's been like this. Just when you think there's not room for one more person, it turns out there is! Of course, we are wedged in so tightly that there's no risk of falling over even if you're not holding on. Fortunately, everyone is good-natured and it's not hot in the train.

Walking home, the flower markets are all closed for the evening. I see two clochards, one already settled down on his cardboard pallet and the other setting up a lean-to of large sections of cardboard, in two corners of the market. A reminder that life in Paris is not wonderful for everyone.

As I'm crossing the bridge from Ile de la Cite and waiting for the light to change, I look over my shoulder and see the Eiffel Tower twinkling. Just in case I had forgotten I was in Paris.

Stop in the G20 market: milk, wasa, muesli, coffee, yogurt, chevre, raspberries. Home.

Once I'm inside the front door, I reach for my keys and panic: they aren't there! Quelle horreur. Every morning, I put them in the same pocket in my backpack after I lock my door. I frantically look through every corner of my backpack, my bookbag, my pockets. Nothing. Then I remember. The homme de menage was coming today, so i didn't lock my door with the key. I'm hoping I've left them on my table/desk. However, this means I have to buzz Kristos and humiliate myself by having him buzz me in through the glass door and unlock the door to my apartment. He seems to find this quite amusing. :) I'm just relieved to see my keys sitting in the vide-poche right where I left them.

Pedometer: 5,402. Weather: Chilly, mostly overcast.