Paris Encore 2022 The Market, Metro and Ben Franklin

We’re actually back in the states now, but I have a few more things to post about our trip. I guarantee it will be just as factual as it was while we were living it. I only embellish when absolutely critical 😊. As my Irish ancestors would say, we never let the facts get in the way of a good story.

We were lucky to be able to enjoy another Saturday market in our neighborhood. It was even busier than last Saturday, although we may have been there a little later in the morning, this time. Lines were longer at the best vendors’ booths, and lines were more plentiful overall. We were glad we weren’t shopping for ingredients to cook up a big meal. We were just on a search for more berries and a few baked goods. It’s amazing how much we’ll spend on dessert in a restaurant, without batting an eye, when the same wonderful things are available at the market, or the boulangerie, for a fraction of the cost.

As you can see above, it’s hard to see the forest for the trees. It’s dangerous to stop in the walkway too, with shoppers charging by in their search for the best fish, fowl or meat.

We picked up a few things for a light lunch, headed back to our apartment, and fortified ourselves for the afternoon’s adventure.

The cannoli look a little the worse for wear, but they were still great. We saved the beautiful berries we found for breakfast.

After lunch, we headed out to the Metro stop to go over to the Trocadéro neighborhood, across the River from the Eiffel Tower. Imagine our surprise when our Metro stop at Picpus was closed for 2 days. Other riders approached the entrance while we were standing there and seemed just as surprised. We’ve been here for 11 days now, and every day we’ve passed the sign, on the wall, down in the entrance tunnel, saying they’d be closed for these 2 days. I don’t really feel too foolish about this, because these other surprised people have probably passed the sign every day for a month. A very nice woman, who spoke English, suggested another route to get to our destination, using another Metro line. So, we headed over to the Metro stop at Nation, and hopped on another line.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and the Metro is crowded with people. No seats are available, so we stand, and hold onto the chrome bars placed all around the cars for just this purpose. In addition, the cars jolt back and forth with no notice, and always come to a jerky stop. So, a sensible person stands with feet shoulder distance apart, just like in exercise class, so that one can shift when necessary. Meanwhile, there are several young people in our vicinity, holding on to nothing, and texting on their phones while all this is going on. They should probably get in line for their knee replacement surgery soon.

This is a very familiar scene to those of you who ride the subway in any city, 

but for us it’s a whole new world.

Our interest in the Trocadéro neighborhood stemmed from the fact that Benjamin Franklin lived in this area during the several years of his residency in Paris. We knew the actual building that he occupied was likely long gone, but we hoped there would be some evidence of his time here. According to the Ken Burns documentary about him, Franklin was much admired in Paris, and a favorite of the ladies.

We found that there was a street named after him, in addition to a statue in one of the parks.

Our visit to Rue Benjamin Franklin took us up a hill in the direction of the Place du Trocadéro. The view of the Eiffel Tower from there is wonderful. The area was very busy with tourists. Once again, we found certain areas of the steps and terraces blocked off.

We spotted a few sections of wire screens, where “love locks” were in evidence. Lovers had been attaching these symbols of affection to bridges in Paris since the early part of this century, until the weight of the locks started to cause sections of bridge railings to collapse. The weight of the locks on the Pont des Arts was said to be about 45 tons, or the weight of 20 elephants, before they were removed by the city. We were guilty of doing this in 2012, before we, and everyone else, realized how harmful it was.

An opening in the barricade at Trocadéro.

Love locks on the Pont des Arts bridge before they were removed by the city.

We hoped to find a place to sit and quench our thirst within sight of the tower, but ended up walking downhill, through the park, passing by the Paris Aquarium.  We found a little restaurant/bar, and enjoyed a glass of wine before walking over to the Pont de l’Alma and the nearby Metro station.

The fountains at Trocadéro

The weather has been nice enough to sit outside at restaurants every day, and dinner tonight was no exception. I noticed our young waiter was wearing some very colorful socks, with a possible cubist design, and I commented on them. He said, proudly, he’d just bought them in Chicago, at the Art Institute. Much to his amazement, I told him my mother studied there. What I didn’t say was that my mother took us into the Art Institute almost every year. After seeing some of the world’s greatest art museums, I realize what a treasure we had in our own backyard!