Writing this from a high-speed train going 200 MPH towards the south of France. Goodbye Paris! The city of my most elaborate and exciting fantasies. Last day was lovely- and surprisingly so. We left the house a bit late, around noon, only to return 20 minutes later as my beloved paraboots were giving me more than stylish feet (two ripe blisters to boot). These are shoes that need to be eased into no doubt as they are quite sturdy in the most wonderful (albeit pain inducing) way.
Finally arrived in Montmartre- one of my favorite neighborhoods in Paris. It’s below the Sacre Coeur, a really hilly area with lots of steep inclines and declines. Quaint, quiet and exactly the kind of place that you stumble upon the most obtuse shopping and mind blowing culinary experiences. Arrived starving and settled on a café that G insisted looked good (it took some insisting because I had to disagree). Primarily a lotto joint/dive bar, I was too hungry to fully express my disdain. Dieters, I was wrong. So so wrong. If there is one thing I have learned in Paris, it’s to forgo all those “best of” lists and just find your way. Not everything is spectacular, but I have had the best macaroons, the best croissant and at this little unassuming place, the best lunch all in places not documented in guides or even the popular foodie blogs.
Our waitress owned the place and we ordered omelet’s- mine plain, G’s with ham and cheese. Maille mustard (something you can find stateside) was served on the side. It happens to be my favorite condiment in the world…
The omelet was incredible. I buttered my baguette with mustard and made a sandwich, literally savoring the whole thing, no small feat for a grazer such as myself. G’s had real large pieces of ham and was oozing the freshest cheese.
When the waitress offered us a dessert and Guillaume ordered ice cream (chocolate and vanilla) I gave him one of those incredulous eye rolls “You really want me to get fat, don’t you??”
People- the ice cream was of another species of frozen dessert ☺. The chocolate was so dense and dark it even contained huge chunks of super dark chocolate. With the vanilla, that was so strongly flavored, I think I had the most gourmet version of a frozen Oreo. It was to die for.
After lunch we came upon an amazing store. Outside there were old wooden spools, vintage martini glasses and the heads of some vintage porcelain dolls.
Inside was a veritable gallery of the most bizarre and wonderful gifts. Everything was antique: soap boxes from the 1940’s, plastic daisy necklaces from the ‘60’s, chanel No. 5 empty vintage bottles, vintage cheese labels, combs shaped like umbrellas…far too many things to list. Probably the most amazing store I have ever been in.
Walking on, we made our way back towards Galeries Lafayette, as the first day we were there it was far too insane to really see much. The mood was remarkably calmer, as most of the sales had ended. As usual, so much to buy, so little money after the cursed euro exchange. I tried on a few Reiss pants, all too large.
Exhausted from walking for 5 hours straight we headed to Tuileries- the park where they hold Paris fashion week. Such a gorgeous park, complete with rows and rows of bushes and, giant fountains, an amusement park, and of course the giant Louvre in the background. We slept for about an hour in the grass, waking up to figure out how to get to Belleville to meet a friend of Guillaume’s from his childhood. Belleville is a divey neighborhood that has recently experienced an influx of young, broke students. It’s le souk in every sense, tons of people, loud, dirty, and slightly alarming. Happens to be G’s favorite neighborhood and he loves a certain couscous place that only serves this particular specialty with three options: merguez and chicken, beef or vegetarian. We met A and his Australian girlfriend (who put me to shame with her mastery of the French language) for a drink served by a man with one tooth.
Arriving at the couscous place, we were greeted by the bartender asking us if we preferred outside or inside. As outside was full, we told him we could sit in, at which point he told us that if we want to be out, just move the table. So we picked up the table and set it down on the sidewalk. I adore the absence of licenses.
Amazing couscous just as I’d remembered from last time. At 12 euro each with two bottles of rose included, not much to complain about. After we followed the canal down to an Irish pub for a last drink. The canal is insanely romantic, leads out of Belleville into a decided less chaotic neighborhood. Tons of young people drinking bottles of wine and eating baguette and cheese.
When the day ended I don’t think G or I remembered our names, more from the exhaustion than intoxication. This morning we were up early to catch this train and now my hands smell like butter from my croissant. Can’t wait to get to Aix.
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