The Last Metro, etc.

We are saying goodbye to Paris, our garret, and Rue Montorgueil.  "Auvoir, Rue. Auvoir, Garret. Auvoir, Paris."

On our denier jour (That either means "last day" or it's some kind of cheese.  From what I can tell all words and phrases in French have at least two meanings: the thing itself, and some kind of cheese.) we started with cafe and jus with Olga Samoilenko, who owns the several times aforementioned garret.  She was in town because of press and television interviews about her solo show in Provence.  You can see some of her art at http://www.art-olga.com/  though I believe the show is all new work. She was charming and gracious and very interested in Naomi's art.

Na traipsed off for shopping and some freedom and I went back to Monmartre to see what I didn't before.  I would like to report that the next Picasso was in Place Tertre working on her art.  If she is, she's slogging it out doing tourist portraits and boring cityscapes.  I saw people drawings and painting; I did not see art.  I did see some lovely streets, and Parisian type architecture.

We had dinner at a fabulous Creperie in 3ieme arr. I can't verify that it's authentic Bretonnaise, but that's their claim.  As the former Breton crepe king of Burlington, VT. I can verify that the food was excellent.  The place is crowded, a bit rustic, and very friendly.  They kept the music so low you could barely hear it.  However, I heard just enough to know it was the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem.  So, the volume was either too low' too high, or just right depending on your proclivities.

Now we're on a train to Stuttgart passing fields of grain and vegetables. Na is going to sleep, having finished her coffee.

I have a few last things to say about Paris.  I don't want to appear to be a complainer, but if it must be said, it must.  First, there are entirely too many directional signs.  Speaking as a 17 year Massachusetts resident, this is confusing.  The streets are properly twisted, why do they muck them up by telling where you are and where you want to go?  Second, the language thing.  I came prepared for stumbling in my French, working hard to be understood and suffering the scorn of the French at my linguistic ineptitude.  Instead, almost everyone switched to English at the slightest hesitancy, cheerfully helping me, even when I clung to the mangled nest of cabled that I call my French.  Third, the Walk/Don't Walk signs.  The green is a green that I can see.  That's just wrong.  I know its time to cross when the red light goes out and the colorless light comes on.  i have no idea what to do if I can actually see the green. Lastly, I was just getting used to the stairs and we now had to leave.  Another 5 days and I bet I could have made to to 5 1/2 floors before my legs started to ache.  That's 5 1/2 French floors.  I've almost forgiven them for the floor counting.  Given time...

The train that we're on gives the speed! How cool is that?! The top I've seen so far is 319 km/h.  For you Massachsettsers, that "wicked fast."  For everyone else, it's 198.2174103 mph...or it's some kind of cheese.