Paris, A Moveable Feast
To borrow a line from Victor Hugo, “To err is human, to stroll is Parisian.”. If I had penned those lines, I might have added, “first fortified by caffeine and croissants.” Having fully leaned into the art of the stroll, each of our Paris mornings started with a basket of viennoiserie, served with French finesse by our nouvel ami, Azzedine. If you visit, please tell him we say “bonjour” and we miss him.
Duly carbed and caffeinated, we’re back to Bon Marché, curious to learn more about the “Super Japon” pop up on the ground floor—a luxury version of the konbini (Japanese convenience store) and the Doki Doki hand roll bar with Tokyo-style sushi. Later, while strolling the Rue de Babylone, our attention is drawn to La Pagode, a Japanese-style structure commissioned in 1896 by then director of Le Bon Marche, Francois-Emil Morin, as a gift to his wife Amandine, during the height of an époque known as Japonisme—a deep and romantic fascination with Japanese aesthetics.
What can make a city like Paris shine even brighter? When your dear friend of close to four decades takes the train from Luxembourg to meet you to tour Notre Dame, read the rooms of Shakespeare and Company, walk along the Seine, and taste the perfection that is Berthillon ice cream in Île Saint-Louis.
A walk down the Rue Cler leads to an afternoon bite at Breizh Cafe for savory buckwheat galettes and a carafe of refreshing Breton farmhouse cider. With a belly full of some of the best treats Paris has to offer, I’m reminded of the Hemingway novel that started it all for me—the longing to go to Paris, to experience the aromas, the tastes, the flavors: “. . .wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is A Moveable Feast.”
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