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Published: September 17th 2009
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A Hotel Down a Passage
Touched down at Charles de Gaulle airport late this morning and got myself into the city by the Roissy Bus. My lodgings—in the Hotel Chopin—are in the lower portion of the 9th district, only a kilometer or so from the Opera Garnier where the bus drops its passengers before heading back to the airport.
Hotel Chopin is a budget accommodation, but it suits me just fine. Chief among its attractions is its location at the end of Passage Jouffroy, one of Paris' covered passages. The passages are narrow lanes lined with shops enclosed—in the late-middle 19th century—with iron-and-glass roofs and paved with terrazzo tile, some with quite ornate designs. I suppose you might describe the passages as precursors to the shopping mall; they permitted shoppers to browse from vendor to vendor, out of the weather and the filthy streets of the day.
Between its entrance on Boulevard Montmartre and Hotel Chopin at its end, Passage Jouffroy houses a couple of restaurants, a few shops displaying trinkets imported from Asia, and a handful of specialty vendors offering artisanal jewelery, handmade clothing, and old manuscripts.
My room on the 4th floor is tiny, of
course, with a red carpet and drapes, mustard-hued walls, and red spreads on the two little beds. It is fairly clean and its window looks out across a jumble of gray rooftops. There's an elevator, but it's tiny and slow; you never see anyone using it except to move luggage. Like the other guests, I take the staircase, which spirals up the center of the hotel like an expanded fan.
I like the feeling of being tucked away down the passage, away from the streets. With the windows open, you hear nothing but draperies flapping at night. Were its interior walls constructed of more substantial material, the Hotel Chopin would be a truly quiet little hideway.
Lentils and Frites
After freshening up, I rejoined the Parisians, starting with the Cafe Zephr at the entrance to Passage Jouffroy, an unassuming place with tables spilling onto the sidewalk. Between the interior and the sidewalk, the front wall had been pushed back, so even if you sat "inside" as I did, you still had the benefit of the open air and a full view of the street.
When I'm fortunate enough to travel abroad, I
try to sample a few new dishes along with the comfort of known favorites. For this first meal, the new choice was a lentil salad. The dish placed in front of me with a flourish by the waiter was a bowl of cold lentils in a bit of dijon-mustard vinaigrette, topped with sliced tomatoes infused with a bit more of the vinaigrette, and a few sliced onions. It was light and delicious, perfect for my tender traveler's stomach.
Perhaps not so healthful was the generous side of frites (thin crispy french fries) I ordered along with the lentils, and a glass of Sancerre. But it all made a satisfying combination.
Sunday Strolling
Out in the street, I meandered in a southerly direction, towards the Left Bank. The afternoon had become cool and breezy with a gray overcast—one of my favorite weathers. It seemed like all of Paris was out enjoying their city.
The plaza in front of the stock exchange had been taken over by kids on skates and those L-shaped scooters kids stand on with one foot and kick off with the other. In the gardens of the Palais Royale, a band of youngsters no
older than 4 or 5 were marauding with tiny replicas of submachine guns. I suppose in a country where individuals don't stock their homes with firearms, a gun CAN BE a toy.
In the square outside the Palais, a just-married couple was posing for photographs beneath the fountain. There didn't seem to be any older people in their party, just people their own age. It made me wonder if their families disapproved of the match.
Around the corner, in another square, a group of classical musicians was playing one of the Brandenburg concertos, an open violin case on the pavement in front for donations. They looked as if they had all met by accident in the square and then realized: we have a quorum: let's do it! A large crowd listened appreciatively and activity around the violin case was brisk. When they finished the concerto the musicians, acting as if by some silent signal, quickly packed up and dispersed.
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Ginny
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Love it
I enjoyed this blog so much; it makes me want to save my pennies and go with you next time. I'll be checking back to see and read what you are doing. Thanks!