Casablanca a Paris

My last night in Casablanca I was sad to leave. I had become accustomed to Morocco, its pace and its cities and I lingered over my last meal. Afterwards, I wandered the pedestrian areas of the center before slowly making my way to the hotel. I slept with the windows open and checked the time. I waited to hear the call of the meuzzin, but Casablanca is large, and we were near no mosques. I went to bed with my heart heavy, my ears silent.

I arrived in Paris under a light but steady rain. I took the bus into town, and then transferred through three metro lines to get to my stop. When I emerged, it was onto a cute street in the 17th Arrondissement. Kebab stands competed with Chinese restaurants rapide for hungry diners. I walked the two blocks to my hotel and checked in. The attendant asked for the money in advance. Showers are 2.50 Euros a piece. I paid, showered, and went to bed.

This morning a light drizzle continued to fall, but the thought of being in Paris lifted my spirits. I had awoken early, and took a train to the Beaubourg to find that it wouldn't open for another hour and a half. I bought this week's Pariscope and bought a noisette at a cafe overlooking the museum. I had seen posters for Keren Ann and discovered she was playing at the Olympia on Monday. I checked the time, and walked over to the theater. I have wanted to see a performance at the Olympia ever since Edith Piaf's recording there caught my imagination.

There were seats available, and I quickly bought a place in the mezzanine. I passed the Opera Garnier on the way back and, on a whim, checked to see what events were being staged that night. I walked out with a ticket to that evening's ballet.

The views from the Beaubourg over Paris were fantastic, and I took photos as the skies were clearing. Seeing the partial blue skies made me want to walk, and I quickly made my way through the galleries. From the museum I walked south, headed towards the rue Mouffetard and its pedestrian mall. I ate lunch at a creperie, complete with cider and sorbets. I was in heaven. At the end of the street, I paused to take some pictures, and a passing Frenchman stopped me to admire my camera. "I have some of my own," he said, smiling appreciatively.

As I made my way back towards the Ile St Louis, I passed the Mosquee de Paris. I had remembered an Arab tea salon in the area, and walked around the mosque until I found it tucked away in its southwest corner. I found an empty table under the trees and listened to the birds chirping wildy as I sipped my (inferior) mint tea.

Tomorrow all the museums are free, and so I've decided to visit some of them and go to my favorite rooms--the water lilies at the Orangerie, the pastel room at the Musee d'Orsay--and see if I can't discover some new ones (a quick look at the Louvre).

The ballet was a mix of the traditional and the modern; it didn't really pick up until the third act. I sat in a booth off to the side, an attendant had to unlock it to let me enter. I sat next to a woman I thought was a Frenchwoman, but when it was over, she said something to me in English. "Are you American?" I asked. "Yes," she said with a Russian accent. "From Philadelphia." I asked if it was her first time at the Opera Garnier. She said it was, but she wasn't so into the dance. She had done ballet herself in the past. She was from the Russian school. I told her I was from New York and she said, "Eifmann. He comes once a year to the City Center. You're from New York. Go see. And see what I mean."
Posted by eku at October 1, 2005 4:21 PM