Running with Jean-Charles

After we had unpacked at the hotel yesterday, we walked across the street to a little sidewalk café called Que pour les Gourmands.  We struggled with the French a little, but the jolly young waiter was very patient, and we ordered some appetizers (including salami, cheese, and a Terrine de Canard – duck Pâté, which I sampled only enough of to be polite), the Salade Gourmande du moment (salad of the day), and some good white wine at €5.00 a glass.  The exchange rate varies daily, but a euro is about equivalent to a dollar.  We found that both the food and the wine were very inexpensive; you can dine well in France on a budget.

Tai Chi on the balcony was a bit of a challenge, a narrow space with a low railing eight floors above the Rue de Tocqueville, but I don’t like to miss this daily ritual and never did the entire time we were traveling, even if practiced in a tiny hotel room.  The street was remarkably quiet, the air cool and still.  We went down to breakfast – La Petit Dejeuner – and I was proud to be able to tell the hostess our room number, “Dix cent trois.”  What a bountiful spread! - consisting of my morning staples muesli (granola) and soy milk (lait de soja), fresh-pressed orange juice (plus four other juices), yogurt, fresh fruit, dried fruits and nuts, apricots, figs, prunes, jams and jellies, a fresh baguette of bread which you could slice yourself, croissants, and some other delicate, flaky breakfast desserts.  We have never had croissants so light and flaky!  The hostess had to show me how to make the coffee, flat flying-saucer-shaped little pods placed in a machine sort of like a Keurig which produced frothy French coffee or espresso, depending on the setting.  There was also a basket of eggs and a pot of boiling water (which I had not noticed but Martha had) next to it.  On Sunday, a woman on our tour, assuming they were all hard-boiled, took one to her table and broke the shell, releasing fresh raw egg all over her plate.  “I would not be a bit embarrassed,” I told her.  “You’ll be telling this story back home for years and laughing about it!”

After breakfast, we embarked on an adventure that I mentioned in an earlier post.  Since we were in Paris for five days before joining our Tour group, Martha had found and booked some very good experiences, and they actually turned out to be the highlights of our time in Paris.  This morning we went down to the lobby and met in person (we had been e-mailing him) Jean-Charles Sarfati, who is the owner/operator of Paris Running Tours.  He was a friendly and enthusiastic man only a few years younger than I am, and he took us on a three-mile orientation run from the hotel all the way to the River Seine – the perfect thing for jet-lagged legs, and a great orientation tour of Paris.  (And what else would you expect of Highlands Roadrunner on our first day in Paris?)  He was an experienced marathon runner, completing the Paris Marathon every year, and was going to Japan later in the year to run the Tokyo Marathon with his son who lives there.  He had also runs marathons in the US, and is planning to run Boston next year since he qualified.  He was willing to slow the pace down for us, and we stopped frequently while he pointed out various sights and took photos. 

Martha posted a five-star review on Tripadvisor when we returned:  “Jean-Charles met us at our hotel on our first day in Paris, and took us on a wonderful orientation run around Paris.  He was very informative, and shared some fascinating historical details along the route.  He also took many photos, which he later dropboxed to us on the very same day.  It was a pleasure running with Jean-Charles, and we are happy to recommend him and give him the 5 stars he deserves!”

I mentioned Rue de Tocqueville, and he knew very well that it was named after Alexis de Tocqueville, who wrote Democracy in America in 1835.  I cannot begin to describe all of the fascinating details of history, culture, and architecture that he told us about.  “You know about Haussmann architecture?” he asked, and I confessed I did not.  All of the buildings on this street and many in the 17^th Arrondissement were designed by Baron Georges Eugène Haussmann, who famously modernized 19th-century Paris.  The buildings almost always had balconies on the second and fifth floors, the second floor being where the wealthier residents lived, servants upstairs.  We ran southward to the lovely Parc Monceau only a few blocks away, a great place to run, and a nearby (free) Asian art gallery, both of which we would visit on Thursday.  He even pointed out the unattractive street trash cans, unenclosed since the terrorist attacks of a few years ago so that bombs could not be concealed there.

 
He took us down the famous Rue de Lévis, a pedestrian shopping street lined with fruit stands, butchers, fishmongers, wine stores (caves), boulangeries, patisseries, brasseries.  This is where I would shop if I lived in this beautiful city, picking up a baguette or two of bread every day, a bottle of rosé, and perhaps a small quiche.

We made our way eventually to the Petit Palais and the Grand Palais, the latter used for large exhibits but the smaller a very fine museum with high painted ceilings and gorgeous statues, as well as a small cafe in the courtyard where we would have a glass of wine later in the day. 

We finished our run in the Jardin de Tuilleries on the other side of the Champs Elysees, where bleachers and barricades were being set up for tomorrow’s Bastille Day parade, and would remain in place for the final stage of the Tour de France (on rough cobblestones that I would not want to negotiate on a bicycle under any circumstance, but especially not on the 21^st stage of a 2,068-mile race),

There was a significant armed police presence in the area, especially in the vicinity of government buildings, and we often saw groups of three men in uniform (always two in front, one behind) carrying G-36-style assault rifles.  Once I noticed that one of the soldiers was a woman, a very attractive woman who would have looked more at home in the nearby Chanel store, but not someone I would want to cross.

Jean-Charles had recommended for lunch the restaurants in the Tuilleries, and we found ourselves seated outdoors under shady umbrellas eating delicious sandwiches and draft beer (bière pression) to satisfy thirsty runners on what had become a warm afternoon.

Afterwards, we made our way back slowly to our Hotel, stopping at the Petit Palais for that glass of cold white wine.  And thanks to our orientation tour we managed to find our way back easily.  Alors:  a three-mile run-walk on our first day in Paris.  Parfait!

NOTE:  Jean-Charles, if you are reading this, mes excuses for abbreviating so much of your interesting tour of Paris, and for quite possibly misspelling most of the words that still reside in my high-school-French memory.  And good luck in Tokyo and in Boston – Courir Fort!