I started out at full throttle, full of inspiration to see the free jazz concerts to celebrate Jazz Saint Germain and two museums opened at night for Nuit de Musées European. By late Saturday, the rain started and it became evident that my museum choices were a bust.
It was one of those weekends in Paris when there was too much to see and do. Sometimes, you have to pick and choose , instead of expecting to do it all.
Let’s see. Besides the Jazz Saint Germain festival and Nuit des Musées, the annual Fête du Pain started Sunday and there was all sorts of interesting multicultural activities going on at Fête Cité Universitié.
I was originally in hopes of getting to a little bit of all of them, but that did not work out, mostly due to the weather and my own level of energy. It is still raining as I write on a cloudy Monday morning.
At least Friday, I was able to get in two wonderful outdoor concerts and a very enjoyable walk in one of my favourite arrondissements of Paris.
Paris 6eme is chic and bohemian at the same time. Medieval streets, with turret topped houses that seem to bulge in the middle and straddle each other, line crooked cobblestone paths, narrow enough to allow sidewalks to exist only one side.
This medieval part is the extension of the Latin Quarter that is now divided by Blvd Saint Michel, separating the 6 th from the 5 th arrondissement, where the Latin Quarter originated and is more expansive.
These ancient streets start north of the Luxembourg gardens and extend all the way to the Seine. Blvd Saint Germain is a wide busy thoroughfare that cuts through both districts west to east.
Friday afternoon was a pleasant spring day to take in a jazz workshop in Luxembourg gardens’ main kiosk, where there are free concerts held each Sunday in the summer.
The musicians were from the Paris VII University under the guidance of Yves Torchinsky and their renditions were spirited and excellent! I could have lingered longer, but there was other things I wanted to take in.
The most romantic place in the park is the Marie de Medici Fountains, whose left bank palace north of the flower surrounded pond is now the French Senate.
Crossing Rue Vaugirard and heading north, I popped into a cheese bar showcasing Alpine cheeses from the Beaufortain
region, along
with other specialties, including the wines, polenta and square cut chewy pastas, called crozets.
Many forget that the French Savoie region was once Italian up until 1860, so they share many culinary treasures.
I then go up Rue Servandoni, which is even prettier at night and stop to admire the ancient dolls at the Maison des Poupees on the corner and pretty carved medallions of 
Sainte Anne gracing some doors further down.
Crossing to Rue Férou on Canivet, I discovered a new museum of Languages, which sounded interesting enough to return to see.
The massive wooden doors seen are era Louis XIII, and Hemingway lived at number 6 Rue Férou in 1926 writing A Farewell To Arms, according to Thirza Vallois, whose books about all the twelve arrondissements of Paris are the most in-depth and richly filled with historical matters that I like sharing with you.
I love reading them for fun and especially before undertaking any planned walks in the city. How else would I know who lived where, what to look out for and the hidden stories behind the walls?
The fountains of Saint Sulpice are always refreshingly beautiful to walk around facing Rue Bonaparte. Near the church is a Pierre Hervé pastry shop that always has a line.
Before I reached Blvd Saint Germain, I stopped in for some more Nepresso capsules and enjoyed a “free” espresso that was as fortifying as needed.
As I approached the busy Blvd Saint Germain, I could heard the music even over the traffic. Four ladies called appropriately enough the Swing Ladies Quartet had gathered a nice crowd around them in Place Saint Germain, which is right next to the Deux Magots café.
The video of the adorable red hatted Swing Ladies is worth watching to see the pigeons take flight at the sound of the trumpeter! Hilarious!
Along with the next door Café Flore, and the Brasserie Lipp, these cafés were frequented by the so called intelligentsia of French society and as well as American expats writers; Hemingway, Stein,and Fitzgerald during the 1920’s.
Across the street is one of the oldest churches of Paris, Saint Germain des Prés who was built on the site of an abbey of the same name, set in the midst of a flower strewn meadow west of the walls of the city.
Nuits des Musées European is a wonderful evening of museums throughout Europe that open their doors in the evening for free, that is if you are willing to fight the crowds who have the same idea as you.
My plan was to start off at the École des Beaux Arts, then head towards the Luxembourg Museum who was having exhibit of Masterpieces from Budapest.
Arriving only about 30 minutes after they opened, there was already a very long line waiting to get in at Beaux Arts, who was promising nocturnal visits by torchlight!
I did not mind the drizzling rain which began to fall, nor the wait as it was on Quai Malaquais along the Seine. Once inside I was extremely disappointed to find that the nocturnal visits were terminated unexplained as usual. So typically French, I thought and that no one informed the line still waiting in the rain.
Knowing it was probably already too late to make it to Luxembourg, I decided to try the Musée Eugène Delacroix near by, but unfortunately arriving about ten minutes before closing. Too late to peruse through his works in his very pretty apartment, we opted to enjoy some quiet moment is his garden.
Lovingly recreated with the same flowers that Delacroix loved, we sat on a rain soaked bench and marveled at the sweet atmosphere more than the flowers whose beauty was hidden in darkness.
This is the second or third time, I have arrived too late for this museum. Perhaps in retrospect, I keep pushing it back to a future time to visit for some as yet unknown reason.
Nevertheless, it is always beautiful to see Place Furstenberg at night.
It was close to midnight, but the Glom gelateria on Rue de Seine was still open to a line as well. Two small scoops of Hazelnut nougat and Meringue with candied cherries made for a nice cap to an otherwise dismal escapade with high hopes.
Even if my museum planning was a bust, I still enjoyed the evening sights of Paris in this very charming and old quartier. In catching the metro home, I noticed the cafés around Odéon were all humming away with loads of midnight revelers.
Sunday the rain seemed to intensify and after going to Mass and eating some of my meltingly tender blueberry muffins, I felt lulled into a Sunday lethargy. By this time the temperature had dropped to outright cold.
Despite my intentions to carry through, I just couldn’t muster up enough energy or desire to get back out in the cold rain to see any more jazz concerts huddled under my umbrella.
Even making it to see what going on at Cité slid by without much inner protests. I felt more lulled into taking a luscious Sunday nap, hearing the rain fall.
In the end, even with well thought plans having gone awry, Paris as usual saves the day and night by just being her beautiful self at each corner, without adding on any extracurricular activities, however exciting they might sound.
Making lovely dinners is always a way to celebrate too. Inspired by a NYT recipe, my phyllo ricotta torte came out delicious using a wonderful farmer’s cheese I discovered from of all places Serbia!
Sundays for me, seem to have their own special energy, as if I am programmed to go slow enough to not expect anything spectacular, except making my beautiful dinners and Sunday desserts.
Though I usually take advantage of the day to do activities or attend events I find interesting and unique to enjoy and share with you, what I was able to do will have to suffice.
Sufficing by the way, is good enough! There is no competition, unless we create it for ourselves.
Half baked weekends are a lot like the process of life. There are plenty of promising starts and dead ends. Unfinished projects and unmaterialized dreams are ditched on the sides.
Instead of fretting over what you could not do or see, I find it much better to celebrate what you have done and are in the processing of living, rather than lamenting over what you could not achieve.
If it is that important to you and to your own scheme of life, there will always be another opportunity in the wings, just waiting for you at the perfect time! Enjoy the moment!