In contrast to Oliver’s post on Monday, I’m happy to describe my own day (in fact, it was last Saturday) in Paris. I hope it doesn’t sound too mundane, because I’m spending most of my time shopping for antiques to ship back to my Palm Beach store, Le Magasin du Dauphin. Here we go:
8 AM: I awaken. This is a typical hour to wake up in Paris and not a sign of laziness as it would be in Palm Beach. In Paris, we wake up later, we eat lunch and dinner later, and we go to bed later. I send Martin down to the boulangerie on the rue Guynemer for pain au raisin and croissants and I turn on the Nespresso machine to make coffee. By the way, I know that Nespresso machines are available in America, but they are an absolute obsession here in France. The only stores in which one can buy the coffee capsules are the so-called Nespresso Clubs, and the lines are always out the door.
One of the exclusive Nespresso Clubs and its capsules
I wonder if spokesperson George Clooney even drinks Nespresso?
Movie star and Nespresso spokesperson George Clooney
Probably not.
9 AM: After a quick shower, I take the B line of the RER (the Parisian light-rail system) from the Luxembourg station to the Gare du Nord, where I connect to Métro line 4 to the Porte de Clignancourt station. The trip is boring and I pass the time reading Le Figaro (my favorite newspaper in Paris, www.lefigaro.fr), L’Équipe (the daily sports newspaper that I read for updates on the travails of the French national football team, www.lequipe.fr), and then, finally, posters advertising courses that propose to teach you Wall Street English, perhaps not the best marketing strategy given the current state of the economy.
You are encouraged to learn Wall Street English in Paris
10 AM: I walk a few blocks to the Marché aux Puces, the huge upscale flea market to the north of Paris (www.les-puces.com). The blocks are not long but the neighborhood is a bit seedy. There are many people walking around selling rap CDs and poor copies of designer goods (if they’re caught doing that, there are very severe punishments here in France because this country is the home to so many of the firms whose goods are being copied). I stop at a pharmacy to buy an antibiotic for my fiancée, Monique. Although I do not have a prescription, one must simply ask for the medication twice or three times and appear desperate, because pharmacists in France have the authority to prescribe a broad range of medications without the involvement of a doctor. I leave with the antibiotic in hand.
In French, the word for "antibiotic" is "antibiotique"
Sorry, this strategy does not apply to narcotics.
The Marché aux Puces can be overwhelming to a newcomer, but I know exactly what I need and where to look. Over the next two hours, I purchase a number of items, primarily Art Déco, because that’s what’s selling (that is, if anything is selling) right now.
12 PM: Lunch. Yes, it’s quite early for lunch, but my favorite restaurant, Le Biron on the rue des Rosiers, runs out of their fantastic roast chicken if one eats much later than this.
Restaurant Le Biron, where one should order the chicken
1 PM: I rush to fulfill an order for some bedroom furniture in the Art Nouveau style (not my personal preference, but business is business).
2 PM: Back on the Métro line 4 to Strasbourg Saint-Denis, where I connect to line 8, which takes me to the Richelieu-Drouot station. I am visiting the Hôtel Drouot, which is an auction house that is very famous among French people and less well-known among foreigners (www.drouot.com). The range of goods that is offered for auction is quite remarkable, and it can run from a dirty crate of used postcards at the inexpensive end all the way up to paintings and sculptures that are valued at millions of euros. I am here to inspect the lots that are being presented by the companies Massol S.A. and Millon et Associés to be auctioned the following day. Unfortunately, I find nothing that is suitable for my needs.
The Hôtel Drouot, an ugly building that houses works of beauty
4 PM: I leave Drouot and walk down boulevard Haussmann to Cojean (www.cojean.fr), one of my favorite places in Paris for a quick bite to eat. The food is healthy and fresh and the staff are hip and friendly. There are a number of Cojeans around Paris, but I tend to frequent this branch because it is near Drouot. I buy an apple and an Innocent drink (www.innocent.fr) and continue up boulevard Haussmann to Surcouf, the electronics store (www.surcouf.com). I prefer FNAC for electronics (www.fnac.com), because the security guards here can be a bit surly, but Surcouf is closer and I simply need a new charger for my friend Marie-Antoine’s portable phone.
A branch of Cojean, where, for some reason, one of its employees is standing in the street pretending to drink out of a cup
5 PM: I meet my old friend Laurent Benoît (we attended school together in Aix-en-Provence) at La Palette, a wonderful old café not far from the Musée d’Orsay in the sixth arrondisement (43, rue de Seine). Jean-Claude, the head waiter, remembers me and gives us a warm welcome and a very nice table before proceeding to scowl at the English tourists who followed us in.
La Palette, in front of which you can see the English tourists who were made to feel unwelcome by Jean-Claude
7 PM: I visit Gibert Jeune (www.gibertjeune.fr), an academic bookstore on the boulevard Saint-Michel popular among students at the Sorbonne. I love this store because it’s packed with every kind of book that one can imagine. They have a great selection of policiers (detective stories), and I buy a number of them for the trip back to America. I also look at the bande dessinée section for Martin because he enjoys the cartoons, and the stories will help him as he continues to try to learn French.
Gibert Jeune, where you can rub elbows with students from the Sorbonne who are selling their used textbooks
8:30 PM: I return to Marie-Antoine’s apartment to change my clothes and meet Monique.
9 PM: Monique and I have dinner at Le Basilic, a hip restaurant with very traditional bistro décor in the seventh arrondisement (2, rue Casimir-Périer).
11 PM: We call for a taxi (www.taxisg7.fr) and return to the apartment, where (I’m embarrassed to admit) we watch an episode of Fort Boyard (a very popular French game show, fort-boyard.france2.fr) before we go to bed.
A typical day in Paris? Well, there really is no typical day in Paris. In contrast to Palm Beach, there is so much to do, and there is so much diversity among the people that you meet, that every day can be unique, if one makes an effort.
Bernard Dauphin
