Where do you go my lovely? (Paris, part 2)

Hello dear reader. This is a brief post. I know, who'd have thought it?

Friday arrived and so did the marché across the road. I love a farmers' market, especially a French one. In a surprise to no-one, we methodically walked the rows of stalls scrutinising the produce on display and noting where all the local madames were spending their hard earned Euros. Stalls selected, we purchased comté cheese which the cheese maker made us try beforehand. Apparently we may not have liked it. We did. Very much. Next jambon, on the bone, three slices that provided two meals for us. Finally, one single heirloom tomato. So large, so red, so juicy, so delicious.

Random statue #1

The potatoes and carrots were still covered in the dirt of the ground from which they had been recently pulled. They looked nothing like the vege we see at home. Why? What do we do to our fresh produce before it reaches the shop?

Random statue #2

Supplies purchased, we made a beeline for the nearest boulangerie. We had a choice of four within 50 metres of each other. A baguette to complement our fresh produce for dinner and French pastries for breakfast. Across the road to our apartment. Too easy. It's one of the reasons I love Paris.

Random statue #3

Unfortunately the weather still believes it is late winter, or at best, early spring. Another day of cold winds, cloud and intermittent drizzle. It is what it is. We discovered today that we are in Paris during their school holidays. Yay. That in part explains the crowds. The school groups are obviously from other regions.

We booked a self-guided tour of the Palais Garnier (Opera House) for tomorrow and inadvertently a cruise on the Seine for the same day. My fault. I was cutting from page to page and rushed to secure the booking. When the confirmation arrived, it showed I'd selected the wrong date. Fortunately we will be able to accommodate both activities.

Breakfast over, domestic chores completed and tomorrow sorted, it was time to go in search of where Dave and Teneille will be staying later in the year. It's not a great distance from where we are. Also there are tourist attractions nearby.

A bird. Tried for identification. Failed.

Down toward Boulevard Saint-Germain we walked. Obviously we can't see any further than the door to the residence, but that exists. A good start. There were a number of homeless people, but they'll be gone soon. Like all governments, the homeless will be removed prior to the Olympics. Their existence makes tourists feel uncomfortable or the host nation embarrassed. Or both.

Anyway, it seems like a reasonable area. There is a brasserie next door. Across the road is a supermarket complex that houses a boulangerie as well as the usual grocery supplies, including wine. Across from that there is a chocolate shop. They are a five minutes' walk from the Seine and the Île de la Cité.

And if they are interested, St Sulpice is also within a couple of minutes' walk. This is the area tourist attraction. A massive church. So I really needed the 10mm lens to fit it in the frame. We arrived as the drizzle decided to move up a gear so photo opportunities were limited.

The fountain outside St Sulpice.

Inside we went, past the mandatory beggar at the door. This church had more side altars than I've ever seen. Ok, more than I can remember in one church. There must have been over 12. Each was adorned with significant works of art, some under restoration.

Dancing practice?

Of course it had one of those incredibly ornate, lifted up from the ground, pulpits from which to dispense god's words to the unwashed masses below. One of the altars even had a replica shroud of Turin.

So, what is more important? The word or the place from which it is delivered?

The front courtyard housed a massive fountain. The front of the church itself had spires either side of the stone steps. While the same height and basic concept, they were not identical, ensuring a lack of symmetry. Clearly I would never be able to worship there. Symmetry is beauty.

Leaving the church we walked to Jardin du Luxembourg. Last time we visited, it was summer and blue skies. Not so today although there were still a few children playing with the boats in the pond. There were plenty of flowers to photograph and the flowers were more numerous than the people.

A lone boat.

We turned down the Boulevard Saint Michel toward the Pantheon and home. Which brings us to today's title. An excellent song from 1969 by Peter Sarstedt, Where do you go to my lovely? 

Pretty in defiance of the weather.

So, some observations. There seem to be less dogs and no cats whatsoever. I don't know if this is because we are on the left bank. We have stayed on the right bank on previous visits. There appears to be a greater acceptance of English and willingness to speak it. Certainly in comparison to our last visit in 2013. 

Arty shot. Pantheon in the background.

There has been a shift in the homeless as well. There are certainly more beggars, not just on street corners but also soliciting at restaurants and cafés. This time around they are mostly men with backpacks. 

I walked on the grass for this photo. Against the rules.

One constant remains, the ubiquitous blare of police sirens as as they scream along the streets in the daytime. It is never a night time feature so you have to wonder if they just put the lights and sirens on so they can get around the traffic without having to wait their turn ... we have never seen them actually arrive at some critical incident but they always drive in emergency mode.

We have a big tomorrow. There could be a lot of words. Or a lot of pictures.

À demain.