A Monday in Paris

Although many places are closed on Mondays In Paris, in a city this large there is always something going on, something to do, particularly when it comes to food.

After a leisurely morning of household chores we walked up to the Jussieu metro stop to meet up with John and Sharon Kleinheksel, from Holland, Michigan. John and Sharon arrived here a month ago to begin a six month-stay in Paris while John works as an assistant pastro at the American Church here. Anyway it turns out that they are the neighbors of friends of Susan's family and a week or so ago dropped by the pastry shop to meet Susan. Soon after we arranged to meet for lunch and just chat -- and so we did.

Fortunately John and Sharon had to be on our side of the city for an appointment later in the day so it worked out quite nicely to pick them up at the Jussieu metro, just 5 minutes from our home, and walk a block to a little salon de the, L'Arbrea Cannelle, where we had a delicious lunch. Susie and I had eaten once before at and had been eager to return. The place is rather small but the service was fine and the food very tasty, just like the last time.


The four of us spent a couple of hours chatting about one thing or another, a perfect way to spend an afternoon lunch in Paris in fact. (photo: l-r: Susie, John, me, Sharon.)

After lunch we all walked back to the metro and the four of us hopped on the no. 7; John and Sharon got off at the next stop where we said au revoir. Susan and I continued on to Palais Royale where we got off. Susan was in need of several baking tools so the plan was to hit a couple of the kitchen supply shops, which we did in short order: Dehillerin, Mora and finally Detou for baking supplies.



Since it was such a nice afternoon, cloudy but warm nonetheless, we decided to walk back to the Seine and pick up the no. 7 metro at Chatelet. We got off at Place Monge and walked over to the rue Mouffetard to look for a half-bottle of champagne to celebrate my dad's 97th birthday. Naturally many places were closed, but we found a small wine shop open and bought a bottle of Pol Roger. It turned out to be terribly flat and not very good but we toasted Pop anyway.

Later that night before bed I called Mary in Decatur, Illinois. She was probably Dad's best friend and companion for so many years, and I wanted to say hi. We had a nice chat for a while; she's realyl very funny and like dad has such a zest for being alive -- laughter is probably what keeps her so young! She misses him terribly. But then so do I.

Thanks, Pop. Merci, papa. Grazie, babbo!

Wish you were here,

Steve