A Night in the Marais (Aug 15th)

We slept in late, a special luxury we have not enjoyed in a long time, and were (well, I was) so long in leaving the apartment that we missed the catacombs again.

Back to the Marais (a region in the north, central part of Paris for those who don't know), for dinner and to wander along the streets, looking into shop windows.

Even after eating falafel in cities across Europe, no one makes it quite like the shops in the Jewish district. Most of the places were closed for vacation, except for this one restaurant that was always open later, even after midnight.

Embodying the flaneur like never before, we strolled through the tiny streets, taking in the atmosphere and observing people. I will admit that I bought a fantastic pair of heels. I am in Paris...

Megan had crepes for the first time, from a little place not far from Les Halles. You can order them from a stand in Paris, like a hot dog, actually. Since she doesn't speak French, I have been translating the whole time here, and we tend to get labeled as English speakers. Honestly, I have had a lot of fun surprising people by speaking French, and using that terribly-offended-French-woman to fend off vendors and men.

Though the crepe cook did ask me out, which was sweet.

I had a martini at a bar called Les Etages, a place I had been to before (I seem to be going back to many old spots); we sat for awhile and talked, a leisurely opportunity to just be.

Later, sitting on the sloping square of the Centre Georges Pompidou, the modern art museum, an older man from Sweden who grew up in Vienna heard us speaking, and asked if he could sit with us and practice speaking English.

He chatted with us for awhile about where we were all from, and gave me the address of his blog. It turns out that he is homeless, and has been in Paris for a few weeks. He reminded me of the drug addicts I met in Vienna, and not only for his accent which I found comfortingly familiar, but because he was normal. And entirely open about his situation, non-threatening, and curteous. I still wonder a little bit, because we left after talking for a moment, about who he is and where he is going. I value those moments where I meet someone entirely unexpected.

When we got back to the apartmet, we spoke with our host's roommate for a long time, mostly about travel and our different countries. I am not sure I have mentioned this before, but my experience with French man has been basically entirely negative. So, it is a huge deal for me to feel safe among at this apartment, to speak with them, hear their stories, and laugh. I actually was entirely relieved to meet them, even though I knew that we would have a good host, because I was starting to despair that I was becoming prejudiced.