Dispatch from Paris: We Should, Perhaps, Do Less During the Day so We Can Go Out for Dinner...

The first pigeon hadn't cooed daylight yet when I felt an elbow in my ribs. "Jack, café ici a'allez pas par lui-même. How's about getting on shank's mare and finding me a big one with legs?" I pushed myself up, squinted out the window at the rising light and figured I'd better frappé dans la rue, if you get my drift. Dolly-girl before a cuppa is not a sight the Free World should see.





Oh, and remember that potential bike caper? Apparently, they found them, thanks, I suspect to these guys. It looked to me like they were standing around drinking coffee and eating petite pain, but someone must have been doing their jobs.










Shortly after Joe did his job, we were on our way. First stop, college football, I guessed. Dolly-girl set me straight on that one. "Flying buttresses, Jack, not the Flying Wedge. They started building this kneeler back in 1163. It had a rough time after le Revolution, but some Frenchies got together to save it, and, voilà, here it is." I had to admit, it was a fine example of Middle Ages architecture. The inside was pretty stunning too. I looked around with the Kodak while Dolly-girl was dredging up her art history. I got to feeling pretty low seeing as how I didn't learn any thing about Paris, France, or Texas for that matter, when I was studying for my private ticket. In fact, I was feeling like a shadow of myself.



We headed out of church of one sort and headed to another. "I've got to stop by this newsstand I've been reading about all my life Jack. It's on the Left Bank--I'm really confused, I thought the Left Banke sang Don't Walk Away Renée and then gave it up in 1969. Well, I thought, I guess with a name with an accent in their repertoire, they could be in Paris, France. Turns out, Dolly-girl was talking about something she calls the "fleuve" and other folks seem to call "The Sen." I'm confused. I think I heard her call it the Fleuve Seine too. Anyhoo, I parked my carcass outside what looked to be a book store--it was even named after that Bard guy, Shakespeare & Co.--although they didn't have any coffee, wi-fi, or anything it takes to have a bookstore in Stumptown.


We finished there and she had a new plan. "Let's head over to the other bank--there's that bank stuff again--and see some Monet's." I wasn't even going to ask her about this one. We ended up in this coupla rooms, and I have to admit, whoever slopped the Sherwin-Williams on the walls knew what they were doing, with me? Could have been this Monet guy, but I looked in the yellow pages under painting contractors and there wasn't anyone by that name.


Then it was on to another place she had on her list--and those of you who've made Dolly-girl's acquaintance know that she has a list. Thanks to her reading a bunch of books before we came over here, she knew about a way you could ride something called a Bato-Bus on what she kept calling the "fleuve." I quit asking. I was well on my way to setting a new record for looks through the wave. This place turned out to be a museum that featured art from a lot of places that the French seem to have spent a lot of time and effort in the old days--Africa, the Caribbean, and the South Seas.







Finally, we headed back to where we've resting our carcasses in something called "Le Marais du Paris" which is supposed to mean a marsh, but there's not much but pavement and planetree, so I'm not whistling any Cajun music, I'll tell you. But, we stopped for a couple cold ones on the way home and I'm in Paris, France to tell you, they hit a spot that needed hitting. They came with a small dish of olives, but not capers. A least, not yet.