Place Carnot

My luggage is finally here.  It arrived this morning a little after 9:00.  I had just awakened, and was just standing up to stretch out the night when I heard a violent pounding on the street-level door to our building. I peeked out the window and saw the familiar red of my suitcase.  I called down to the courier that I would be right there.  I threw on some clothes, my rose elf slippers and made my way down the stairs, key in hand.  He was pounding again.  Interesting--they can make me wait for four days for my suitcase, but the driver doesn't want to wait for 5 minutes while I try to make myself presentable.  Believe me, mornings are no picnic.  I guess time is money the world over.

 Where have you been, little suitcase?  What travel tales can you tell?

It took a while and some major huffing and puffing to get that thing up the stairs.  It was heavy, but I was in no hurry.  One bite at a time; one step at a time.  We made it, and I didn't disturb the neighbors too much, I think.  I got unpacked and the suitcase stowed.  Brewed my coffee and put last night's dishes, now dry, into the cupboard.  My laundry was mostly dry--I'd washed a small load of what few clothes I had, and used the drying rack instead of the dryer. I have to confess that the bra was a little clammy, but perhaps that's too much information.

I now have enough antiperspirant and shampoo for the entire block, I think. It really did feel good to change into different clothes.  It's not like I am out working in the fields, for heaven's sake, but the same clothes, even washed out in the evening, begin to feel odd.  Oh well, that's all in the past now.

I finally had a purse to carry and my shopping bag, so I headed out to the market. On non-market days the Place Carnot feels deserted.  The square is ringed by restaurants and banks with their ATM machines, and the restaurants do a lively tourist trade, as well as serving plenty of locals.  I heard as much French as I did non-French. (Today it was a group of Scots--wait for it--complaining about the prices.)  I thought the place where I treated myself to lunch was quite reasonable--for 6.5 Euros, I had a flatbread sandwich of ham, cheese and lettuce and tomato, a dessert and a bottle of water.  The sandwich had one too many layers of flatbread, and while it was delicious, I didn't need three layers of bread.  I didn't even finish my tart au citron--it was just too much.  Many of these restaurants serve lunch only--last night as I was walking by, I noticed that most of them were closed for the evening.

Place Carnot--non market day

But on market day, the place bustles with people and activity.  I got there late, I am sure, but there was still plenty of selection.  It was not as crowded with vendors (or buyers/lookers) as the Saturday market, but the sellers were all doing a lively trade.  My vegetables came to a total of 1 Euro!  I was entranced by some of the presentations, which I had more time to examine today.  Mounds of dried fruit and big mesh bags of escargots. Had I known I would have brought my snail plates and my grippers!

So, I sat and had my lunch, came home and put away my purchases, swept the floor, read the newspaper and worked on this.  I stopped on the way home at the Musee des Beaux Arts, which is right at the end of my street. I wandered around the bottom floor, taking in the massive doors with their intricate, but worn to a patina carvings.  The place has an ancient feel to it, and the courtyard, which was deserted is almost Oriental in its simplicity.  I will go back when I am not carrying produce and visit the upper floors.  I also have to remember that most places and stores close between 12:30 and 2:00.  The pace here is definitely slower--commerce is not the yardstick by which quality of life is measured.  And I like it.

I was stopped crossing the place in front of the museum on my way down my street by a young man from Spain who was looking for the mayor's office.  I hope that means that I am starting to look like I know my way around.  (Maybe he was just desperate) 

At the Place Carnot, there are big signs for the upcoming party.  I can hardly wait!