Sights

I got up at 8:30 this morning, which is early for someone who doesn't have class until 4pm. My plan was originally to explore Bercy which is the neighborhood closest to where I live…and then I remembered it’s the lamest neighborhood in Paris so I chose the next closest which is (dun dun dunnn) THE BASTILLE!!! So I packed my camera and map and set off ready to see an old prison. I live on a side street off of a main road called, Avenue Daumesnil and the Bastille is at the very end of this road so I picked the side of the road I don’t usually walk on and headed out. There’s a small garden that runs along the road called Jardin de Reuilly and I’ve never been in it because I’m usually only in the area at night and the parks in Paris are pretty sketch at night but anyway; this particular street is very interesting because it's just studio after studio of all different kinds of artists: there’s one for period/costume clothing, one for dolls, pottery, furniture, jewelry, you name it. Above all these studios, there’s a garden path that I’ve seen from the street but never taken, and today I decided to take it. I found the set of stairs at the end of a building that lead up to the roof and I walked all the way to the end of the path. It seemed to be a really popular area for runners but there were art students sketching and people reading the morning paper and some like me simply preferring this path to the street below. It smelled like roses and honeysuckle and there was one portion that was entirely bamboo. I think maybe I’ll go read there some mornings before it gets too cold; grab a pastry from the boulangerie…ah the French life.

But back to my walk: So eventually the path ended and I descended back down to the street, following the arrows pointing to Bastille. As I drew nearer and nearer to my destination I noticed an obvious lack of old buildings and became suspicious. Thinking back to the pictures I had seen of the Bastille neighborhood, I recognized the one I was walking alongside as the Bastille Opera House and began to realize something: there is no longer a Bastille. Obviously since I thought it would still be there in all it’s French Revolutionary glory, I have no idea what happened to it but the actual prison is long gone and in it’s place, an modern glass opera house. I’m not going to pretend that I wasn't EXTREMELY disappointed. However, I decided to set aside my expectations and turn the morning into an adventure: I continued onto the street across from Avenue Daumesnil, called Rue Richard Lenoir which was like the Commonwealth Mall, for those of you in Boston (grass/dirt path in the middle and pavement on both sides for those of you not in Boston). This eventually intersected with Boulevard de Voltaire, which I was able to take back to Place de la Nation, which is actually at the end of my subway line but I walked back from there to my apartment. I had grand plans to go straight to the boulangerie and pick up some bread and then to the Tabac for a phone card (I have 7 texs left) but I was too hot and tired from walking for the past two hours that I just went back to the apartment and had some chocolate and grapefruit juice.

Bri was still asleep and I couldn't tell if the Italian were even home because his door was shut and I couldn’t hear any noise. I took my magazine into the kitchen and sat down at the little table and read book reviews. I had the window open for a bit of a breeze and I could hear someone playing the piano. I could still hear it when I closed the window and the sounds around me were so peaceful I wished I could just go back to sleep listening to the distant sounds of the piano and the Italian typing in his room.