More pictures…Off to a day of shopping at the best of the best! Nothing like a jaunt to the famed Bon Marche’ in Paris. Never heard of it? Me neither until I was taken there by my friend, Karen. The object of the day was to browse this lovely store then have lunch in their food area.
Usually nothing slows a woman down when there is shopping to be done. But, I have to tell you, melting under the hot humid sun of Paris is a dead stop killer. Trying to look elegant with the sweat dripping is not an easy task. I know the word for lovely ladies sweating is perspiration. Nope this was a day to sweat. Nothing is air conditioned, Nothing!
Walking into the Bon Marche’ mopping our brow, we started in the hat section.
The saleslady was beside herself as she was inundated with ‘perspiring’ ladies. She was trying to be gracious with a grim smile while women pawed hats that cost upwards of 350 Euros ($525). We were pretending to be on the guest list of the Royal Wedding, the hats went on, the hats went off. Drip, drip, drip with perspiration oozing from our brow. Hats and other pics…
Deciding not to buy a hat that required a second mortgage, lunch would be a good substitute. Karen kept describing the food area to one clerk after another in her rendition of French. We wandered from floor to floor in search of the elusive food section. Nothing appeared that matched her description. Finally, parched and hungry we settled for a cafe across the street from the Bon.
Refreshed from lunch we were startled to find the food ‘area’ nearly in front of us. It was in a separate building all its own. If we had turned right instead of left we would have had a different lunch. The food building of the Bon is much too fancy to call it a food court or a grocery store but that’s sort of what it is – a combination. Beautiful food in every variety each in its own perfection.
We never should have left the food court, but soldier on we did. Not far, Karen said, is a wonderful little street with the best little shops.
With map in her hand, Karen showed me the way to the subway. Not one of my favorite modes of transportation, but quick it is – if you know which stop is which. Getting off the stop with confidence we, I’d like to say galloped, but it was more like climbed slowly up the transit steps and into a whole new neighborhood. Not far, Karen said. Walking a few blocks… Not far, Karen said. Finally asking directions with my pigeon French and hand signals we pattered on past the Eiffel Tower seeing it from an angle I’ve never seen before.
Had my brained not been boiled, I would have written down what is etched on the glass. I think it says ‘Peace’ in multiple languages. With the heat reaching unbearable, dizziness setting in, we dragged on toward the goal. Yes, a small street with cafes and lovely shops. The drip, drip, drip,,, you may hear is not a fountain… — Soon to come, Burges, Belgium and another squatty potty story…