Marsha and Barb arrived this week. Barb has been made an honorary Pierman sister. The weather has been cloudy and cold. Hmmm. Sounds familiar. We must be in Paris? This being Marsha’s first trip to Paris, we drug them through Notre Dame and to the Eiffel Tower. To kill time before nightfall when the Eiffel Tower twinkles, we went to République, our new favorite consignment store. Barb bought a swanky pair of Dolce & Gabana pumps which I might have arm wrestled her for (we wear the same size shoe) except that in my post-corporate-work world, I have little need for a pair of pumps. We had wine on an outdoor heated terrace but Marsha and Barb’s jet lagged bodies would not compel them to stay awake for the twinkling Eiffel Tower so we put them to bed early.
Saturday, we went to the Flea Market, the one at the Porte de Clignancourt metro stop. We spent as many hours there as our cold toes would allow.. I learned a little about shipping big items home to the U.S. A French looking guy who claimed to have hailed from Alabama owned one of the shops. I had eyeballed a cool skinny table and remarked that I wish I could ship something like that home. He overheard and said the table was 1,500 Euro and he could ship it for 1,000 Euro more. Didn’t sound like a bargain to me but then he said the table I had been admiring would have sold for 6,000 Euro a few years earlier but the antiques market in France has softened quite a bit. So it seems there may be bargains to be had if you can stomach the shipping costs. He said you pay for the cargo space so if you were to buy a table, you could place other items under it and the shipping cost would be the same. Good to know. Get ready, David, we’re going shopping when you get here!
Later we made it to the fabric market. We actually only went to the Marché Saint Pierre which was enough. Marsha left with a few samples. After the fabric store, we went to the top of Montmartre and strolled around looking at the artists in the Place du Tetre. Because it was Saturday, There were considerably more artists there than when Joan and I visited on a weekday.
Dinner was at a restaurant on rue Daguerre where we have been before and are always treated well. This is one French restaurant that seems to enjoy English speaking patrons. Joan and Marsha played it safe with the ol’ standby, tartiflette. Barb and I went the more daring route and ordered something that had 14 words in the description, only two of which we understood. It turned out to be a cheese and ham plate, like you would serve as an appetizer plate for guests at a dinner party. Not the best meal I’ve ordered and not entirely satisfying to eat a cold ham and cheese plate when you’ve been freezing all day. Oh, well, the wine was good and that’s what really matters.