Sunday, September 9, 2012
Possibly Our Most Favorite Place
Linda is rightly proud of her breakfasts. We don’t know what the melon is called, but it is everywhere and has a flavor that is out of this world. Poor Linda is going to have a problem choking down cantaloupe when we return to the States as she remembers these chucks of pure heaven. As for me, I’ll miss the chocolate croissants, but that’s just another reason to return.
Just down the street, on Sunday and Wednesday, there is a market that is located under the elevated RER tracks. The mob you see in the distance was what it was like, we just lucked out in finding a section that didn’t have food stalls to photograph, and so had fewer people.
It isn’t just what’s there, it’s also how it’s displayed. Linda loves small tomatoes. Linda’s melons are beside them. Linda was one happy girl.
Butchers, fishmongers, and cheese, more places than one can absorb. Some were so busy you couldn’t get near the counter, some were already nearly sold out, and others were waiting on their customers to come. At one meat counter the huge chunks of beef lay out in the open, the butcher cutting off exactly what the customer wanted from the beautifully aged meat. Others had glass cases and refrigeration.
Dessert? How about a perfect apple tart.
As you can see, we didn’t go wild buying things, besides to get near many of the counters you needed to wear your armored clothing to protect yourself against all the sharp elbows around you. Figs, Mirabelles, Peaches and a melon, each at the very peak of ripeness. And no need to worry about them getting over ripe. Half for tonight, half for the morning. Then tomorrow, just like most Parisians, we will be stopping at the local produce stand for the next several meals worth.
We spent the afternoon in what is debatably our most favorite place in Paris, the Musee Rodin. And our favorite place at the museum is also the most crowded, but it doesn’t matter, because if you think about it, it is more than worth it.
Rodin was able to create something far more than just marble and bronze sculptures, he was able to capture emotion in its rawest form. In side are the marble sculptures, outside, in the wonderful garden, are the large bronze pieces. Everywhere there are people admiring, looking or drawing. To us it is as much an experience as it is a place.
Fall Fashion Week is coming shortly, and one of the design houses will be hosting an event in the garden at the museum. Looks to me like one of the models for the show has already arrived.
From the looks and all the pointing going on, it appears that super model’s attempt at disguising herself didn’t work. Wait, “What’s that you’re saying, Linda?” Oh yes, the painting. A painting by Linda’s favorite painter, Vincent Van Gogh. I sure hope some of those ladies noticed the painting.
Ever notice how there is always a sculpture that just begs to be touched?
No sooner do I take that photo than my wife’s hand is reaching out do some touching.
Earlier in the day when we had arrived at the museum there were only about a dozen people in line. When we left the individual and group lines stretched up and down the street. A short wait to get in, a fantastic afternoon of pleasure, a long leisurely stroll back to our apartment, what more could anyone ask for.
It didn’t take long to find out. a few steps further from where that last photo was taken a Metro entrance loomed. At that moment, Linda, the one who suggested walking did what women are always doing.
Just to prove that we can occasionally have a real meal. Of course we had to skip the appetizer course to do it, but sometimes we just have to be tough. One thing I don’t understand is how we can buy some fresh pasta and a jar of pasta sauce in Paris and have it taste so good when we do the same thing back home and it is just okay. And that is with buying the Monoprix brand sauce here and the different fancy high priced sauces in the states. Later, as we watched the Eiffel Tower twinkling out our apartment window, we realized just how how lucky we are. It was another very good day.