Good Mistakes

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The travel industry is rife with misinformation. At the beginning of my trip I was hit hard with airline misinformation. I emailed both airlines to make them aware of their mistakes, and demand retribution. Both requests were recently denied. Though they both are glad to be of service under better circumstances in the future. Yeah right.
This time, I was duped by a travel book. The Paris for Dummies book has an excellent format, and one of its features is a list of recommended restaurants, categorized by cuisine, price, and district. I wanted to stay close to my apartment, as Paris was hit by a freak downpour this evening, and I found just the restaurant. A "brasserie", advertised as having hearty Alsatian meals, like "Grandmother's chicken stew". It sounded perfect and hearty, and quite affordable. I know the book was written a couple years ago, so most of the prices have gone up a couple euro, but it was still in my budget. It took a couple passes for me to find the restaurant, but find it I did, and the interior was just as the book described it, with rich creams and mahagonies, and full of gaudy mirrors and chandeliers. Then I looked at the menu, and something was amiss. At some point in the past two years, this restaurant must have undergone a management change, since there was no chicken stew to be seen, and the prices were way more than a couple euro over the quotes. I even considered bolting, but it was pouring outside, and I'd already asked for some water.
I ended up having the freshest haricots verts of my life, some type of lamb (the only word I recognized in the description was agneau, and a creme brulee. It was really delicious, and getting the prix-fixe menu shaved off a good percentage of the total meal. Unlike the airline mistake, at least this time I got what I paid for. It was sort of like accidentally buying a first class ticket, and being bummed about the price, but loving the legroom and free alcohol.

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I forgot to mention earlier today, on the way to the catacombes, I came across a cemetery of Montparnasse. It was right near the catacombs, and I guess I assumed they were under the same general organization. I was actually pretty far off. I looked at the cemetery map, thinking maybe it would point me in the direction of the catacombes, but instead it delineated the graves of celebrated artists that were buried there. I still scanned the map, hoping for some direction, when I found the name Beckett, Samuel. He happens to be my favorite author/playwrite. He was Irish by birth, but wrote in French, because he thought it was purer as his second language. The language you grow up learning has too much baggage. Of course, after he wrote in French, he translated everything back into English. Of course. He also was quite interested in the macabre, and cemeteries in particular. He often had his characters spend time in them, partly for the peace, partly because our lives are a mere flash between birth and death. "The gravedigger puts on the foreceps", as he says. I found his grave, and it was quite unassuming. I had been hoping for some surreal quote, but it was simply his name, and that of his wife. I guess it was appropriately simple. I sat on his gravestone, which I hope wasn't disrespectful, and we had a moment. Some other tourists had left some freaky-deaky notes on top of his stone. I hated to put myself in the same category as these wackos, so I left quickly.
On my walk home from the catacombes, I spied a billboard advertising a play "de Samuel Beckett". This was just his day! It was "Fin des Parties", which I think is the French version of "Endgame", one of his best. I was so excited to see it, and mad that this hadn't come up in my previous searches for theater in Paris. I researched it at home, and found out I must have read the dates wrong, and it doesn't start showing until after I leave. It's okay, my timing had been perfect for most everything else, I can't expect everything to work out in my favor.

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