The Beginning of Summer in Paris

I can’t imagine there being such a thing as “writer’s block” in Paris. It is such a lively and interesting city, and this past week I have again found myself wishing to just sit and write. About whatever. I would like to find a shady spot with a breeze on the sidewalk in front of some cafe in view of a monument or ancient church. Then, with my notebook and stack of euros to keep the espressos coming, I could explore the limits of my creativity. I doubt that I have the gonads to be able to make such an adventure productive, and it would probably just result in a bunch of navel-gazing — like the last 114 words. Besides, that is not why I am here this time.

As with every other one before in our Paris adventure, Nancy, Daphne and I started the week touristically. Grandma Barb, Autie Kari and their Minnesota friends were still in town, and it was Fathers Day (at least, back in the States it was). Moreover, in our house, Mothers Day had been postponed to that date as well, as I had been on the road collecting mussels in May. So, last Sunday was informally designated Parents Day, and that meant doing family stuff. So, while the other Older Ladies did their stuff, Barb, Kari and the Grafferlys walked down to the Catacombs, where one will never in-person see the remains of so many dead people, stacked up neatly like so much wood. We lunched on kabobs and had dinner at the Balzar, an expensivish brasserie on rue des Écoles near our flat. I had wanted to eat there ever since I read Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik. He painted it as such a charming, neighborhood bistro. I thought the food was excellent. I had a steak and there was a big plate of frites. However, for a place that caters to tourists (probably 95% of the clientele the evening that we were there), the service was not very impressive.
Kari left on Monday, and Barb and her friends on Tuesday. Monday night, we had dinner with Barb and her friend Cathy at a little spot in that cozy maze of shops and restaurants between the bases of St. Michel and St. Jacques. The other ladies were off apparently searching for prune pie?! While we were eating, Kari was still on her flight, and when she got to Philadelphia International Airport, she found she was stranded by a cancelled connecting flight. How ironic that she finally made it to Philadelphia, but we weren’t there to show her around. Kari made it back to Minneapolis on Tuesday, only five hours before Grandma Barb arrived herself.

As nice as it was to have visitors, it was also good to get back to our routine: going to bed early, waking up early and eating at home. I made good progress on pulling together type specimens in the freshwater mussel collection at the MNHN. There really isn’t anything new or interesting to report. No milestones were reached. Just steady progress on a big project. All of the work that I have done, pulling all of the relevant literature together is really paying off now. It seems unlikely at this point that I will get through more than half of what I came here to do, at as far as regards these French mussels. I have some other goals for July, when I will be working on my own euros.

Today is the first day of summer, and it was a beautiful day. We spent the it going up the Eiffel Tower (to the 1ere étage) and exploring St-Sulpice Church. The picture to the right shows the holy water thingy at St-Sulpice, made of a giant clam and decorated with octopus tentacles. Next week, Nancy’s friend, Daniel, visits from Michigan. He has spent a lot of time in Paris and knows his French, and I am hoping that he can direct me to where I can get a cheap haircut.