I’ve always said my living in Paris is an ultimate gift, and plan to permanently leave our apartment only after my body is cremated. You may perceive this as macabre, but there’s something called being prepared. I’ve given my nearest and dearest friends and family instructions that some of my ashes should adorn (OK – be sprinkled) in the Luxembourg Gardens which is two minutes from the apartment. Even though our house in Provence is a breathtaking country home filled with so many memories. and where we had wonderful times, this ever-changing park has always been my real refuge. Wasn’t it nice of Marie de Médicis to create this
park for me and my heartfelt pleasure, not to mention providing peace and visual eye candy for millions of others. Nicer yet, I never have to pay a gardener to make the grounds picture-perfect.
Paris is a city which has always made my heart sing and it’s not because of the weather. Now, even as a woman alone, I feel if it’s an ideal place to pass my senior years. The French don’t dismiss women of a certain age as being non-people. In the US, so many of my single female friends complain about feeling left out, or being relegated to all-girls evenings if they get divorced and/or if their husbands/companions die. Is this Noah’s Arc, deja vue?
In Paris, it’s not unusual to see a woman sitting alone in a café. I’m not saying this doesn’t happen in other big cities in the US. But the French appear to be more ‘age” friendly and respectful. People’s eccentricities are indulged here. No one cares unless someone sets his or her hair on fire. Invariably, this does make an impression and the pompiers (firemen) are summoned. It’s simply a part of the theater of life á la Française.
Contrasted with what many Americans think, the French can be incredibly friendly. The other day while returning from the service après vente appliance store
Darty, the sun was shining. A friend and I decided to join the masses of people who had come out of their winter cocoons to soak up the sun and enjoy quasi-spring weather. Spring today doesn’t necessarily mean spring tomorrow. There are some days when one can experience four weather systems.
That’s why
Bonjour Paris writers advise people to bring layers of
clothes and adhere to the Scout rule of “being prepared.” We sat down at a table and when the woman two tables away heard us speaking English, she told us she’d been a stewardess with TWA and could she help us plan our itinerary? It didn’t matter (to her anyway) that we live here and the two of us wanted to catch up after a too long hiatus. She was intent on speaking English and insisted on telling us how much she loves the States. We didn’t want to be rude but….. happily, two American tourists sat down and we were free at last.
Carlyn and I walked from the 6th arrondisement up Rue Daguerre, which becomes Rue de la Gaîté. Our destination was Avenue du Maine in the 14th. The store is located in the same shopping center as the jazz club,
The Petit Journal. We made an executive decision to retrace our steps. We’d spotted so many interesting shops that we felt compelled to ‘hit the road Jack” and explore. We passed on entering deep discounted
Tati, even though it’s a bargain hunter’s heaven for those who have the patience and aren’t looking for hold-your-hand service.
Since the last time I’d previously taken that trek, there had been more than a few memorable changes. Rue de la Gaîté was previously the Left Bank’s version of Rue St. Denis, where primarily men do their personal shopping and hunting for entertainment and seeking pleasure.
The street used to be lined with heavily curtained window fronts dedicated to sex emporiums advertising pornographic films, sex toys, leather and other apparel designed to fulfill a variety of sexual fantasies. You could rent a booth (for your viewing gratification only) to watch any type of film that turned you on.
This isn’t a street I frequented (and never after dark) but it’s the fastest route between Bv. Raspail and Bv. Montparnasse and the
Meridien Hotel. A few of the seedy “satisfy your sexual desires” dens (of iniquity) remain. But now Rue de la Gaîté is home to numerous hotels, and to jewelry stores where people can buy and sell some junk and/or family heirlooms. There are theaters (
www.edgar.fr) that could be comparable to off Broadway ones. And if there’s one Japanese restaurant (sushi anyone?), there are at least five. Perhaps, they’re owned by the same family? We even found a dress store and managed to do a bit of damage to our budgets.
The street has numerous cafés, bars, hotels and every type of store including organic grocery stores in case you crave some food to eat in or take out after spending a couple of hours in a sex hideaway.
Jane Jacobs is undoubtedly smiling down on this area as the quintessential mixed use environment where stores, restaurants, housing and different types of enterprises peacefully co-exist.
Walking in Paris is one of my greatest joys. You simply need to allow the time to take your surroundings in and look up as well as down. You may encounter some doggie poop; but ever since the chien laws were imposed, the French have become considerably more assiduous about picking up after their pooches — if they don’t, owners can be fined – that is,…
I’ve always said my living in Paris is an ultimate gift, and plan to permanently leave our apartment only after my body is cremated. You may perceive this as macabre, but there’s something called being prepared. I’ve given my nearest and dearest friends and family instructions that some of my ashes should adorn (OK – be sprinkled) in the Luxembourg Gardens which is two minutes from the apartment. Even though our house in Provence is a breathtaking country home filled with so many memories. and where we had wonderful times, this ever-changing park has always been my real refuge. Wasn’t it nice of Marie de Médicis to create this park for me and my heartfelt pleasure, not to mention providing peace and visual eye candy for millions of others. Nicer yet, I never have to pay a gardener to make the grounds picture-perfect.
Paris is a city which has always made my heart sing and it’s not because of the weather. Now, even as a woman alone, I feel if it’s an ideal place to pass my senior years. The French don’t dismiss women of a certain age as being non-people. In the US, so many of my single female friends complain about feeling left out, or being relegated to all-girls evenings if they get divorced and/or if their husbands/companions die. Is this Noah’s Arc, deja vue?
In Paris, it’s not unusual to see a woman sitting alone in a café. I’m not saying this doesn’t happen in other big cities in the US. But the French appear to be more ‘age” friendly and respectful. People’s eccentricities are indulged here. No one cares unless someone sets his or her hair on fire. Invariably, this does make an impression and the pompiers (firemen) are summoned. It’s simply a part of the theater of life á la Française.
Contrasted with what many Americans think, the French can be incredibly friendly. The other day while returning from the service après vente appliance store Darty, the sun was shining. A friend and I decided to join the masses of people who had come out of their winter cocoons to soak up the sun and enjoy quasi-spring weather. Spring today doesn’t necessarily mean spring tomorrow. There are some days when one can experience four weather systems.
That’s why Bonjour Paris writers advise people to bring layers of 
clothes and adhere to the Scout rule of “being prepared.” We sat down at a table and when the woman two tables away heard us speaking English, she told us she’d been a stewardess with TWA and could she help us plan our itinerary? It didn’t matter (to her anyway) that we live here and the two of us wanted to catch up after a too long hiatus. She was intent on speaking English and insisted on telling us how much she loves the States. We didn’t want to be rude but….. happily, two American tourists sat down and we were free at last.
Carlyn and I walked from the 6th arrondisement up Rue Daguerre, which becomes Rue de la Gaîté. Our destination was Avenue du Maine in the 14th. The store is located in the same shopping center as the jazz club, The Petit Journal. We made an executive decision to retrace our steps. We’d spotted so many interesting shops that we felt compelled to ‘hit the road Jack” and explore. We passed on entering deep discounted Tati, even though it’s a bargain hunter’s heaven for those who have the patience and aren’t looking for hold-your-hand service.
Since the last time I’d previously taken that trek, there had been more than a few memorable changes. Rue de la Gaîté was previously the Left Bank’s version of Rue St. Denis, where primarily men do their personal shopping and hunting for entertainment and seeking pleasure.
The street used to be lined with heavily curtained window fronts dedicated to sex emporiums advertising pornographic films, sex toys, leather and other apparel designed to fulfill a variety of sexual fantasies. You could rent a booth (for your viewing gratification only) to watch any type of film that turned you on.
This isn’t a street I frequented (and never after dark) but it’s the fastest route between Bv. Raspail and Bv. Montparnasse and the Meridien Hotel. A few of the seedy “satisfy your sexual desires” dens (of iniquity) remain. But now Rue de la Gaîté is home to numerous hotels, and to jewelry stores where people can buy and sell some junk and/or family heirlooms. There are theaters (www.edgar.fr) that could be comparable to off Broadway ones. And if there’s one Japanese restaurant (sushi anyone?), there are at least five. Perhaps, they’re owned by the same family? We even found a dress store and managed to do a bit of damage to our budgets.
The street has numerous cafés, bars, hotels and every type of store including organic grocery stores in case you crave some food to eat in or take out after spending a couple of hours in a sex hideaway. Jane Jacobs is undoubtedly smiling down on this area as the quintessential mixed use environment where stores, restaurants, housing and different types of enterprises peacefully co-exist.
Walking in Paris is one of my greatest joys. You simply need to allow the time to take your surroundings in and look up as well as down. You may encounter some doggie poop; but ever since the chien laws were imposed, the French have become considerably more assiduous about picking up after their pooches — if they don’t, owners can be fined – that is, if there’s a flic (cop) within eye-shot. Who knows what you’ll discover? It’s certainly better than sitting in a car waiting to snare a place in a parking lot at the local shopping center where, if you don’t make a notation of where you left your wheels, your main form of exercise might be in walking around trying to find your car!
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