Friday flânerie

Somehow, I never got around to posting about the Friday flânerie I had the day before my parents arrived. It was a bit of a bust. The least great of all my Fridays in Paris. But, now that I have some distance from it, it wasn't so bad. Which only serves to show you how great all of my other Fridays were.

This time, Marc came with me for the first part of the day. We left the kids at home and went to try a new couscous place he had found. The kind of small, local place that serves delicious couscous at modest prices (because we don't think you should pay 30-40 euros for a dish that is mainly stewed vegetables).

Incidentally, Marc had eaten at this same place a day or two earlier. He had come for the couscous, only to find that they only serve it on the weekends. He ate lunch anyway, and ended up meeting a woman whom the restaurant staff and locals call "The Countess." She kept moving closer and closer until she was sitting by him and she even got him to buy her lunch! (I think she's a grifter.) She was there again on the day I was there, so I got to meet her. Marc's description of her as the French version of Michael's mother on Burn Notice was spot on. But I digress...

Success! The couscous grain was lighter than air, the vegetables delicious.

We had a hard time deciding which kind of meat to have, so we ordered the Couscous Royal, which comes with a little bit of everything. Chicken, grilled merguez sausages, lamb kebabs, meatballs. All really delicious. Chickpeas, golden raisins, and harissa hot sauce on the side. Possibly the best couscous I've ever had, and so much of it we could never finish it all, and for 14 euros, to boot.

After lunch, we parted ways. Marc went home, and I wandered through the marché right there on the Boulevard Raspail.

Dozens and dozens of fresh eggs. (Did you know the French don't usually refrigerate their eggs? They also buy them by the half-dozen.)

A little boy fascinated by the fishmonger's wares. I admit I had to stare a bit as well.

Can you believe these mushrooms? They don't look real to me -- more like drawings, or those little meringue mushrooms that are used as decorations on Bûches de Noël.

I found some of the Moroccan spice mix I have been looking for (ras el hanout). I'm hoping it will make my own couscous more authentic.

Here's where my day took a turn for the worse. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. I kind of wanted to go to the Musée Cluny or Musée Carnavalet, but since my parents were arriving the next day, I didn't want to do anything that they might possibly want to do. And I was just feeling low, despite the success of our couscous lunch.

I hopped on a bus and ended up deciding to visit the Paris mosque, which I have never seen. It was closed, for unknown reasons. I walked and walked and walked. Then, I just gave myself over to the flânerie... no shopping, no purpose, just wandering.

I walked by the Poilâne bakery. I know I am probably alone in my indifference to their famous bread (Robert de Niro has it flown in regularly, and all of Paris seems to be enamored with it), but I just don't care about it. I do appreciate a beautiful window, however.

And look at this little beauty!

I couldn't help but snap a photo of this quintessentially Parisian woman walking her dog. This is the kind of thing I see all the time. This is how I wouldn't mind looking someday -- you know, if I was thin, had straight hair and some sweet boots, and wanted to own a Dachshund...

Lovely antique books are everywhere in Paris, and I am not immune to their wiles.

I didn't buy anything at Ladurée (still too full for another bite), but I sure do love their window.

I strolled over to the Pont des Arts to write some postcards, but there were no benches and I didn't want to sit on the ground.

I always enjoy walking past the bouquinistes.

Even when some of them are locked up.

I sat on the Pont Neuf instead and wrote some correspondence.

Then I was cold, and it was getting dark, and as my mood was still swinging low, I decided to head for home. But not before going to check out a bakery I had heard about:

Honestly, I was disappointed. It was beautiful, it looked rather like a jewelry shop, but the madeleines and baguettes I brought to take home did not meet my expectations. Maybe it was because it was the end of the day, who knows?

One thing I did know -- I was glad that this was not my last Friday in Paris!