Well, every now and then I treat myself and splurge on breakfast. It’s not as if there is a scarcity of baguettes, coffee, butter and jam. No, not by a long stretch not at home in Paris, not in my little quartier, nor anywhere in France for that matter. I could probably roll outside my front door and hit a bakery. In fact, nearby is my local bakery. I say nearby because people are very protective about such things. You might think we sound a little juvenile, but it’s my bakery or my butcher or my grocery store, so there! Every morning, you can be sure there will be a line of anxious Parisians lining up at their bakery for a baguette, croissants, a petit pain au chocolat or a super-sized monstrous looking baked delight with apple or strawberry topping. That’s sometime I find unfortunate – by that I mean the fact that “super-sized” has leaped across the pond from the USA (home of the supersized everything) to Europe. I get carried away with bakeries because it’s not like our local supermarket bakery after all, we are talking about a French bakery “artisanal” with all the sights, sounds and beautiful aromas that are part and parcel of this establishment. It’s all too much and sometimes I have to stop and sit down, it’s a heady experience. Except when I decide I want something on Wednesday (when they close) or it’s a special holiday or it’s Saturday afternoon and the shutters are closed then I realize I need a supermarket. But I suffer through it, surely can tell.
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Settling down I realized I was in a prize location on the corner giving me maximum view of “the scene” or la vie quotidienne du 6e arrondissement. Looking over the breakfast menu I decided to splurge- as I said, just for today and ordered the Le Petit Déjeuner des Deux Magots. Settling back I observed the streetscape, a bustling crowd indeed: municipal workers from the La Ville de Paris were doing a little gutter cleaning, mothers sternly holding the hands of their children and walking purposefully towards the école maternelle where all good boys and girls, between the ages of 2 and 6, attend; a couple of lycé-age boys and girls strolling by in no obvious hurry to get to school, the boys shoving each other (shades of my youth in Paris) and laughing, the girls giggling about something, between puffs of cigarettes. A couple, both wearing identical sweatshirts with college emblems, jeans, sneakers and cameras slung over their shoulders walked by intently studying a familiar looking guide book, then stopping and looking a bit confused, then returning to their guide; obviously this was not the Eiffel Tower. A police car whizzed by with its blue lights flashing and the familiar siren blaring. Across the street, a grocer was setting up his fruit displays for the day. An elderly man walked by neatly dressed including a smashed-down beret, a baguette in one hand and holding a little dog by the leash in the other. The sun was coming out, the air was fresh, it was the beginning of a wonderful morning in the quartier.
My breakfast arrived.
So for 20 € (a deal at $26.00 right?) I got my choice of a hot steaming pot of black Café, or a hot chocolat à l’ancienne. Fruit juice – choice of orange or grapefruit. My favorite –Viennoiseries variées et petit pain du boulanger has that wonderful medley of croissants, danish and a small baguette. Oh, I forgot, butter and several little jars of jam and honey. I labored through having to spread butter on my croissant then adding a little jam and then a sip of hot strong coffee. Repeat one more time.
I opened my paper. Normal stuff: crisis of confidence in Paris, London and Washington; death and destruction from a landslide somewhere in China; hijacking on the open seas; mass killings, floods, hurricanes, unseasonably hot here, unusually cold there. The usual litany of international horror stories, retread news and opinions. Quickly perusing the financial page for more possible horror stories something caught my eye. “Billion dollar Hedge Fund owner, Mo Moshberg, buys lavish villa in Juan-les-Pins just outside of Nice in the South of France. Mo Moshberg CEO of the Moshberg Harmony Fund (MHF), recently purchased for an undisclosed sale price, but thought to be in the range of 3-6 million Euros, the Villa la Rêverie a magnificent 100 year old villa of “extreme luxury.” The story added that there were unsubstantiated rumors and speculations in certain financial circles that Mr. Moshberg was interested in an international technology company located nearby in the Sophia Antipolis high-tech corridor, the French version of the American’s Silicon Valley in California. The Moshberg Harmony Fund had no comment.”
I poured another cup of coffee and ripped apart a croissant. Interesting. I couldn’t help but wonder what my good friend Sergei would say about all of this.