Part One

What a lovely day!

Lots of errands in the morning that needed to be done, and then I headed to the glorious La Grande Épicerie in my old neighborhood for some food items and household products.

As I walked down my old (first) street (rue de Saint-Placide), memories again flooded my mind. Initially on the opposite side of the street, I crossed over to see my old apartment doors — and of course to check the bench for David. He was not there.

I popped into one of my favorite shops on that street and bought myself a scarf because I was uncomfortable. The temperature said one thing, but even in long sleeves, 70 degrees was chilly with a sun that kept going in and out. Paris is so interesting weather-wise, and changes in an instant. You often need a scarf here, and maybe a coat in the spring. I packed mostly summer tops/dresses, so I needed a little something extra. I bought a pretty every day type scarf, and told la vendeuse that I wanted to wear it, so she cut the tags off for me, and then sweetly came around from behind la caisse, and proceeded to fan and fold the scarf “just so,” and then she wrapped it around me and tied it perfectly — the way a real Parisien woman would wear it. I was beaming, and thanked her.

Then I popped into another store and bought un pull en blanc to layer over what I was wearing. The saleswoman told me it was thin, so I’d need to wear un soutien-gorge which made me laugh, bien sûr. Only in Paris. (That’s right, they don’t call them brassieres, they are soutien-gorge). So I tried the sweater on, and it was perfect for the day – everyone in the store agreed. Lol! I was wearing it, as I exited the fitting room, ready to pay, and the other saleswoman came by with scissors to remove the tags for me in the back of the neck.

Ça march, oui? Oui!

From here, I did my grocery shopping at that most beautiful store ever (La Grande Épicerie). In one aisle, I asked a woman to help me choose the right laundry detergent. I don’t know why, but this particular product is not easy to decipher in French. Then I bought some special napkins, thinking ahead, because I’ll be hosting my new friends (the American couple who I met the other day), for an Apéro in my apartment when they return to Paris from their cruise this weekend. (Too soon to buy food.)

Checking the list, what do I need? Dishwashing soap, check, Laundry detergent, check, sponge for the kitchen sink, check. Cooking oil. Where is the cooking oil? OMG.

Then I bought some berries with that special fouette whipped cream, that my daughter craves, and of course some French mustard (which I LOVE), and headed to the check out. They still have me in their system, living on rue Saint-Placide, so I get points when I shop there.

Mon sac was heavy with the particular items I’d purchased, as I headed back down my old street.

A new shop! I passed a fun shop « Made by Women, For Women, To Support Women. » So, of course I went in. So many delightful pieces! I lingered. And I came upon a sweet little framed piece of art that I just had to buy. It reminded me of myself. Then, I bought another – which reminded me of my dear friend, Vanessa. I had to have them both. I had a lovely conversation with the owner. Yes, she complimented my French, lol, but I was just so thrilled to be able to converse so easily with her. She had moved to Paris (from Colombia) 13 years ago, and of course was fluent in French. She invited me this Saturday, to return to the store for wine, cheese and socializing with the artists. Bien sûr!!! I will be there with bells on! I can’t wait! We now follow each other in Instagram.

Vanessa: C’est nous!

A lot of the stores are getting ready for La fête des meres – their Mother’s Day here – which fluctuates according to the Easter date.

I gazed into the window of another store – Faire du lèche-vitrine – before moving on. And suddenly, I saw a homeless man on the ground, and when he looked up, our eyes met — and it was unmistakable — DAVID! OMG! Lisa! Pouvons-nous faire des bisous ? Oui, absolument ! Now, I’m pretty sure there aren’t many Parisian women who “do bisous” with homeless people, but David and I are friends, and I don’t care. I couldn’t believe it. He looked a bit thinner to me, and his hair was cropped close to his head, so his gray curls were missing, but his eyes were unmistakable. I immediately joined him on the sidewalk, taking a seat next to him with my bags. He tried to stop me, but I was fine. We had a fabulous conversation, and as always, he’s one of the best French teachers I’ve ever had. He speaks so clearly, and corrects me to help me better understand. He offers cultural references, and is just an amazing conversationalist. It was just a joy to see him.

I told him I had looked for him on le banc in January, and he told me he no longer sat there. (It was unclear whether he’d been asked to move, so I didn’t press.) This particular street is one-way, and has cars parked on both sides, so I never saw him all those times I’d checked the bench. In fact, I almost missed him today. He said he was there every day in January. I gave him some money to get a bite to eat. Then, after a lively conversation about all the manifestations in Paris – we shared photos – I was ready to go, and promised him I would return on another day with coffee and biscuits for us – like last year. He was so happy to see me, it was sweet. He is such a gentleman. I really wish for only good things for him.

Note: Yes, he has a cell phone, but it doesn’t have a phone number. (I asked.) I didn’t quite understand, but it has limited use. Another friend had sent me photos of some small fires in the street (rue de Rennes), and he was telling me all about it — and the reasons why there was such an uproar. He’s so well-read, it’s crazy.