A Day of Rest

It's 6.55pm on Sunday in Le Marais.  A silver Mercedes Benz taxi pulls up on a pedestrian crossing at the intersection below, puts on his hazard lights, and ..... Stops!.  Pedestrians just walk around.  Many weren't using the intersection anyway.  Cigarette smoke drifts up from Cafe Carrefour as a bicyclist meanders by in the wrong direction.  Down Rue De la Verrerie prospective customers continue to line up behind barriers awaiting entry to the sale at Bazar Hotel De Ville ~ 40% Off - 6 Jours!

Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest and conviviality with family and friends, or so we thought.  Why then did we complete one of the higher levels of step exercise on a warm Parisian autumn day.   I blame it on the closure of pink Metro Line 7 concluding at Villejulf - Louis Aragon.  Normally it is a short hop with minimal changes to Place Monge and Rue Mouffetard, one of Paris' oldest streets and a gourmet paradise, however we took the long way round via Bastille and Cardinal Lemoine where we encountered steep slopes and minimal shade.  A cooling drink at the bistro opposite the markets at Place Monge was most welcome.

A jazz combo of three progressed our walk along Quai De La Tournelle as we headed home via Isle De France and the Notre Dame where pitiful gypsies held out paper cups and mewled at indifferent pilgrims.  A trio of acrobats entertained people in the place next to the Hotel De Ville and encouraged Sunday participation.

Ensconced once again in our apartment, I opened our second floor window to observe the Bon Soirée.

A tattooed pair of rockabillies consult their map and return the way they have come.  An Orthodox Jew in black studiously ignores the entwined bald gay couple as he heads towards Rue Des Rosiers
for his post-Sabbatical falafel fix.  From my vantage point high above the rampant rues, only The Go-Betweens Streets Of Your Town and the clink of pastis came be heard.