8 April, 2000

I think that I left the last story just as we had ordered our meal – what we thought was Oofs in Buckets, along with Duck. We had a nice bottle of wine, for not too much money, and the ever present basket of bread. Keith was drinking water (He does not drink wine.) and we were waiting for our meals to arrive. As I described before the restaurant is nicely situated on a big square, and we were chatting and waiting to eat.

We got the Oofs in Buckets first, as you would expect, one plate for me and one for Doreen. There were two little ramekins on the plate, each with one egg, in this case baked with bleu cheese and cream.

There were also two toasted bread sticks that came with the oofs, one per ramekin. These are what the British call "soldiers" and they usually use them to eat soft-boiled eggs. (Nip off the top of the egg, dip in the soldier and mop up the juice). So we dug right in, pierced the (still soft) yolk, and were rewarded with a creamy goodness that more than justified this long drawn out search. The bleu cheese came in chunks. Some bites would taste just like a hot Roquefort, other bites were mainly cream and egg. We were in disbelief, and knew that this was merely one step on our search – which has now become the search for the ultimate oof in a bucket!

At the same time that our Oofs came, however, Keith’s duck appeared as well. We thought this strange since he did not order an appetizer, and we believed that we were eating ours. We quickly realized, however that TWO Oofs in Buckets, with cream and bleu cheese (Technically called "Oeufs cocotte au bleu") would be MORE than enough food. Not that we are cheap, but we did not really want to have to pay for the duck (Which was ALSO great, buy the way) which we would either force ourselves to eat, or just push around on our plates to make it look like we ate some.

The funny waiter came by a couple of times, and I wanted Doreen to make sure that he would not bring any more food – but he was always in a rush and flew in and out. At one point, be brought out two more plates of Duck, and set it on the buffet table right next to us and picked up some silverware. We groaned and looked at each other and started to make a place on the table, and he looked down at us and said: "These are not for you!" AH! For once, we were taken care of by the waiter! He either KNEW we did not know what we were doing (which is usually a source of great merriment to these guys) and corrected it, or he just didn’t understand what we had ordered, and brought us only the eggs and not the duck. It was a lucky day for us!

Cemeteries

The next day (Apil 9^th, if you are keeping track. I always have to look at a calendar these days to see not only what the date is, but what the day of the week is) we decided to travel up to the Père Lachaise cemetery. It has many famous inhabitants (Does that imply living? I am not sure) probably the best known (on a global scale) are Abelard and Heloise. I am sure you all know the love story between the famous Abelard – he made a name for himself by defining the nature of the Holy Trinity. (You can look in Henry Adams’s book Mont St Michel and Chartres to understand what he contributed to 10^th and 11^th century ecclesiastic thought. His writings were medieval best sellers). Heloise was the niece of the Bishop whom Abelard was hired to tutor. They secretly got married, but when the Bishop found out he sent her off to live in a convent. Well, they are buried here. I had always thought that they were a mythical love story, like Triston und Islode, Paolo and Francesca, Romeo and Juliet, Madonna and Dennis Rodman. But they were REAL PEOPLE, and we got to see their crypts. (Unfortuneatly, the camera was out of juice by the time we got to their graves. That was one of our last stops).

We wandered through this huge (103 acres) place and the sad thing was not only all the dead people, but the vandalism and neglect of some of the sites. The crypts are little "buildings" above ground (like the cemetaries in New Orleans). Many of the crypts had little stained glass windows – but most were broken out or stolen. On the back of many crypts is the number of the "Perpetual Rights"

which would give the owners the rights to that land forever. But that did not mean that there was perpetual maintenance. Many of the older (and I mean REALLY old) stones were in a sad state of repair, with many broken crosses, vegetation taking over the site, and in some cases, the crypts open and bones exposed! (I have a photo of one such grave. It is too sad to post) Additionally, in some of the crypts there are little altars with crucifixes and icons, and many of these have been wantonly destroyed as well. As a former cemetery worker myself, as well as just a human being with feelings, it makes you want to cry.

In any case one of the more celebrated graves that we visited was Balzac, which is still in good repair. He has a large stone, with part of the stone that looks like a book. If I had to pick my favorite author (which, I am glad to say, I do not) it would be Honoré de Balzac. I am rereading A Harlot High and Low right now. Doreen was disappointed in the bust on his grave. She would have preferred one of Rodin’s monumental statues of him (in bathrobe or not).

There was also Bizet, one of the first graves we saw

Even though Doreen looks happy by this grave, she was crying inside. We saw Proust, Delacroix, La Fontaine, Moliére, Edith Piaf, Isadora Duncan, Sarah Bernhardt, Richard Wright, Lalique, Holocaust Monuments, Jim Morrison, Rossini, Collete, Ingres.

Jim Morrison. Imagine that. The king of the four cords of the apocalypse is buried in Paris. There was a crowd of kids (say sub 25 years old) at his grave, some of them crying (I mean, come on! They were not even born when he died! I mean really: "Riders on the storm. (da da da da) Riders on the storm (da da da da) into this house were born (da da da da) into this world were thrown (da da da da) Like a dog without a bone, he scratches out alone, riders on the storm (da da da da)" (or something close to that). This stuff is only good in Francis Ford Coppola movies). Well, I doubt that there will be 25 year olds crying at MY grave 28 years after I am dead, so who am I to say?)

We also saw Proust’s grave. THAT was a man, I can tell you. Writes 11 volumes about a breakfast cookie. He could write a single sentence that could span PAGES! But You gotta love him. Get Alain de Boton’s book How Proust can Change your Life and read it. It is good.

And then, of course, there is everyone’s favorite, Oscar Wilde. As Oscar once said, "We are all in the gutter, it is just that some of us are looking at the stars." Or words to that effect. It is sad that he was run out of England, by a law which was not even intended to find him as a victim, but we all know about the law of unintended consequences.

This is Doreen looking closely at the stone. You see all this little dots? They are kisses.

Viz.

Sort of hard to see, but you get the idea. This is the centenary of his death, and they had a plaque that said that his monument is a state historical marker, and you cannot deface it. Does kissing constitute defacement?

We had seen enough graves (which eventually starts to remind me of gravity. A subject upon which I would rather rest, at the moment) so we decided to head out to lunch.

It is interesting to get into the more "working class" neighborhoods of Paris, where the garbage detail is not quite so regular, and the tourists don’t usually visit. It can be a dank, hard city with all the gray stone. Walking around in a mist, with the garbage in the streets, and people not looking happy does not really make you think of the City of Light.

We had lunch at a beautiful Bell Époque restaurant that has been around for 135 years. You walk in, and you see stained glass and brass, and plenty of each. Even the men’s room had some interesting touches. The urinals were separated by dolphins of porcelain. It was an amazing place. There were several large stained glass skylights that overlooked the dining hall. There was a no smoking section (a rarity here) and it was in the NICE part of the place! We were all shocked.

Doreen started her meal with oysters, and Keith and I had Pate de Fois Gras. Wonderful. But Doreen said that our Gulf Coast oysters are just as good, and much cheaper. They provided a funny onion and red wine sauce for the oysters, so THAT was different.

We then had our main meal – I had lamb stew, Doreen had Cod (the fish that changed the world) and Keith had a steak. We all enjoyed it tremendously. At the table next to us, there was a couple eating sausages and sauerkraut. I overheard them ordering their sausage, and one that they picked they called "American sausage" That was a hot dog! Hahahahah! Hot dogs in upscale French restaurants. I’ll bet it was a GOOD hot dog, though.

RETURN TO GRAND TOUR HOMEPAGE!