I finally got to experience a Paris night1, walking back to the hotel at 2:30 in the morning. I thought Paris never slept the way New York never does, but the streets were mostly empty, save for a few couples still drinking at the only bistros still open. It’s a wonderful interlude of calm amidst the din during the day.
The weather has turned lovely, closer to 20°C and much less oppressive than the last week. The only problem is that depending on the way clouds move, it can alternate between warm and brisk quite quickly, so an extra hoodie or sweater becomes a necessity. Today, the low temperature in Ottawa is higher than the peak in Paris, and I’m glad to be here instead of there.
On the go. Paris is a fast city, and Parisian’s difficult to capture.
We’ve already begun some editing. Karin sees my fingerprints all over the footage (and she knows my videos so well). It’s funny cause I never try to film for a specific style, I only follow my instincts. Luckily, we’re both perfectionists; she understands why one goes through the hassle of packing a macro lens for a trip overseas when it may only be used for an hour, or carrying a rail system on the chance that the right situation will come up, and she doesn’t feel like she needs to harass me if she wants something done right.
Olivier brought back some ham from Auvergne (reminded me of a particularly thick prosciutto), and Karin made the risotto. An Italian-inspired dinner.
I’ve seen stray cats everywhere, and even some in store windows, but have been too scared to touch them after dealing with Leonard’s flees. People also like to walk their dogs off the leash, and they’re all well-behaved enough not to get too excited or in any trouble.
Café noisette, espresso with a dash of cream, named after the French for hazelnut because of the rich, dark color of the drink. I like mine with two lumps of sugar.
Samosa stuffed with goat cheese, and a specially thick and rich honey.
There’s graffiti everywhere, often using the natural architecture as part of the design. Notice the mannequin ominously crouching on the yellow-white cylinder. Paris also has Invader, it’s own version of Banksy.
The smoked salmon entreé, with a velvety avocado pureé.
The French favour a rare steak, so you need to add an extra half-degree of cooking when making an order (i.e. order medium if you want medium-rare).
On the path to the base of Sacre Cœur and there are shaggy men in blazers trying to sell counterfeit purses. Also many three-card Monte stalls with tourists huddled around them (although they use discs instead of cards), and I can’t imagine anyone nowadays being so sheltered or naive as to fall for one of those games.
- Last time I stayed in Chartres and only made day trips to Paris. [↩]