Paris Adèle: C'est la vie!

What to do in Paris on a Saturday?

I woke up this morning to an unfamiliar sound. My iphone was ringing. Thinking it was going to be a wrong number, I wasn’t that keen to leap out from under my pile of doonas.

British Airways claim they have located my luggage and it will be delivered in between 4-8pm today. Fifteen, 15, quinze, days after I arrived. With the knowledge that tonight had been decided for me – I ventured out tout de suite, straight away!

Now and then I have pangs of guilt when I am not visiting a monument or museum and initially, today started out as one of those days. However, I very soon got over it. I did what the Parisians would do, go to market and have a leisurely lunch.

It was a whopping 11 degrees today, so the fur coat stayed home and I donned my recently purchased cape. Saturday definitely has a different atmosphere and coupled with the warmer weather, there seemed to be a very upbeat vibe about.

Coats were unbuttoned or replaced with jackets and capes, boots replaced with shoes, the trendy gay men were wearing sunglasses, even although we only had about 2.5 minutes of sunshine. Shorts with tights, lighter weight scarves, a chance to see what everyone wears under their coats.

First stop, the oldest and one of the cutest markets, Le Marché des Enfants Rouges. This market takes it’s name from the orphaned children who wore red uniforms.

The market stands in the location where an orphanage, instigated by Henri IV’s mother was built in 1534. After the orphanage closed down the market was built in 1615.

You can buy not only wonderful fresh produce to take home and cook but you can also buy something hot and tasty for lunch to eat at one of the many tables scattered around. You enter via iron gates situated in rue Bretagne in the Marais.

Why I am drawn back to this area all the time is obvious, it is hip and yet laid back, it has wonderful little streets, cafés, shops, food and photo opportunities.

Wine & Bookshop - what a great combination

By the time I arrived at my favourite café, ordered Le Plat du Jour, which today was a delicious lunch of pork medallions with prunes, lentils and potato dauphinoise with a little side bowl of gravy, the pangs of guilt had already subsided.

Yes I could be traipsing around monuments and museums, but it is Saturday, so why not just do what the Parisians are doing. To market, have a leisurely lunch, a coffee and watch the world go by.

The hardworking and forever busy, cheerful Hussein greets me with such friendliness that I settle down and feel just like a local. A welcoming ca va? A kiss on each cheek. The food is so consistently good at this place, I just can’t fault it.

Before I dashed off home to await the elusive suitcase, I popped into L’Etoile Manquante, next door. To be greeted equally well, by the always smiling Bouba. I feel so at home in this area and Bouba thinks, I should stay and become a Parisian.

All the staff have developed a great interest in the missing luggage but think my new jeans and cape fit the bill anyway, so C’est la vie – who needs the case!

And then if like a miracle my phone rang at exactly the moment I finished typing the previous sentence, les bagage est arrive, ‘the baggage has arrived’!

Left standing on the street with a case that looks a little worse for wear, I wonder how I am going to haul it up to the first floor of the narrow spiralling staircase. Have ascenseur, will travel. I popped it in the miniature lift, pressed number one and watched it sail up to my floor as I scurried up to meet it.