Chapter One
They reached Pompidou Center just as morning’s first sun broke through. In their rush to get settled in, it didn’t take Mia and Tooty long to wheel their suitcases past the crush of couples, students, tourists and assorted characters to their little slice of heaven, a two-bed apartment on rue Geoffroy l’Angevin, their home for seven whole days and nights. After punching in two different codes, one outside the building and one on the inside security door, they made their way up the tiny, dark elevator into an apartment that was bright with light, showing off a birds-eye view of Pompidou Center.
“This is perfect!” said Tooty with a big, open smile on her face.
“No complaints here,” replied Mia, finally able to breathe, sensing her client was pleased.
Mia Martelli’s research had paid off. Her job is to create and deliver the ultimate dream vacation in Paris. Most of her clients book just one week (her minimum requirement for Paris) which means she has to adjust her own slow, leisurely idea of travel with their vision of a dream vacation. Every client is different so the arrangements vary with each new companion. Mia always searches for a good deal, a great location and easy access to public transportation. After that, it’s a matter of what “feels” right for her customer’s needs. She had a good feeling that Tooty would enjoy the Marais. Their Beaubourg neighborhood was the right mix of lively people, restaurants, stores and attitude.
Other than figuring out how to use the cable t.v. (oops, no English speaking channels), the apartment seemed straightforward enough. Not too fancy or too austere, it coupled practicality with the feeling that you were living a bit of la vie en rose in Paris.
Tooty’s personality profile (Mia’s best ally for planning a memorable vacation for her customer) revealed that she lives to walk. Literally. Obsessively. Compulsively. An amazing 70-something-year-old fitness buff and fiercely competitive, she race-walks a minimum of four miles a day and can lift 10-lb. weights effortlessly. Her eating regimen is organic, green-based and rigid with only an occasional bite of meat. She wants to go to Paris to prove to herself that she can walk virtual marathons in the famous city of light.
During the pre-trip consultation, Mia counseled her that Paris is indeed a walking city but much, much more. “Tooty, Paris is for PLEASURE.”
“Oh, but I LOVE to walk! I’m hoping I’ll be fit enough to race-walk the New York Marathon after I “do” Paris.”
After quickly putting away their clothes and toiletries, they took inventory of what they needed to stock their tiny Paris kitchen and set off in the crush of people below. It seemed like everyone had landed on their doorstep. Locals mixed with tourists of every nationality. The Marais is an explosion of history, shop fronts, restaurants and pure inspiration.
“Let’s check out our neighborhood first and do a wander so you feel comfortable here,” Mia suggested. “Then we can sit down to a decadent lunch to get you in the mood for the upcoming week in Paris.”
Thinking it over, Tooty frowned and shook her head. “That’s ok, we can just grab a sandwich and some fruit and eat while we walk. No need to sit, I want to hit a lot more than just our neighborhood on my first day. Remember, I’m here to walk, walk, walk!”
“No worries, we’ll walk plenty,” smiled Mia.
They set off down rue Rambuteau, past a chocolaterie that featured shiny, tempting chocolates in every shape and color and an outrageous brioche with rose praline sprinkled on the outside, looking way too beautiful to eat. They flew past a tempting patisserie called Pain de Sucre with fantasy fruit tarts, breads, and marshmallows dazzling the window front. Nothing made Tooty moderate her stride. Not slowing a beat, Mia kept Tooty’s quick pace all the way past a restaurant adorned with an impossibly cute bulldog without taking a look at the posted menu. She explained to her client that by law all French restaurants have to post their menus on the exterior of their storefront. Seemingly uninterested in this information, Tooty pounded the pavement on down the road, pumping her arms energetically.
They didn’t even slow down when they passed the gorgeous Archives National as rue Rambuteau became rue des Francs Bourgeois. They passed countless tempting side streets that beckoned but kept on trucking. As a matter of fact, Mia was starting to despair that Tooty wasn’t really “seeing” the city when all of a sudden, as they approached Place des Vosges, the fitness firebrand came to a screeching halt. She gazed at the elegant address, built in the 17th century. It had the most amazing architecture Tooty had ever seen. Identical mansions made of red brick and white stone graced the formal gardens in a perfectly symmetrical square. She noticed people for the first time, real Parisians, taking a moment out of their morning to enjoy the serene and gentle atmosphere of the famous park. The green grass looked inviting as did the sandbox where adorable children quietly played. With everyone smiling and relaxed, it seemed like a good time to take a moment to slow down.
“How beautiful. This must be what you meant when you said Paris is a city of pleasure.”
Trying not to sound preachy, Mia agreed, “Yes, this is a good example of a time-out moment for the average Parisian, taking time off from the rigors of daily life to stop and smell the roses, so to speak.”
Admiring the handsome young man who was, in turn, being admired by some giggling teenage girls, Tooty and Mia reveled in their surroundings. They noticed a couple already sitting on the grass eating an early lunch of bread, cheese and salami when Tooty suddenly expressed her desire to have a good lunch. “I know we haven’t walked that far but maybe we should sit down in one of those famous Parisian bistros you talked about and have a traditional meal. After all, it is our first day and you can get rid of calories better at noon than at night. I’ll make up for it afterwards with a monster walk.”
Grateful for the change in plan, Mia reversed directions and headed toward one of her favorite local bistros, Le Hangar, located just behind the Anne Frank garden. The tables out front were set so the hungry duo got to cherry pick the best seats in the house as it was just then noon straight up. On a day this gorgeous, they were of the same mind to eat outside. Madame welcomed them with a sweet smile and a menu and came back a few minutes later with a (free) amuse bouche of toasts and black olive tapenade. Tooty had a perfect view of the Musée de Poupée (Doll Museum) and was delighted to see a handful of sweet little kids trudging to the Jardins Anne Frank with their baby dolls and kick scooters, along with Mama or Papa close by. It was an irresistible scene.
“I’ve never had a tapenade this delicious,” said Tooty as she quickly scarfed up her tasty treat.
“Can you taste the anchovy?”
“Ick, there’s no way I like anchovies. They sound gross.”
Mia looked at her ruefully. “Well, it looks like you do. Would you like to share a carafe of wine? Red or white, what’s your preference?”
Tooty gave Mia a disparaging look and lectured she never drinks more than four ounces of wine a day and it must always be red since red has more anti-oxidants than white. Good health comes first.
“OK”, consented Mia, “We’ll each do our own thing with wine on this trip” and purposely ordered a demi-carafe of white for herself just to make a point. She then ordered a green bean salad, fois gras on olive oil potato puree and a slab of molten chocolate cake, knowing she didn’t need to place the order for dessert right away but wanting to make her point with Tooty about long, lazy and extravagant French lunches.
Tooty liked the sound of the healthy green bean salad and spotted a vegetarian risotto dish on the menu that didn’t look too compromising. No dessert. One glass of red wine.
“Mmmm, delicious! Extraordinary, really! I had no idea how good green beans could be!” raved Tooty as she scooped up every forkful in amazement. Mia took her time to taste every bite fully while Tooty swiftly put another forkful in her mouth.
When the main course arrived, Tooty made a face at Mia’s foie gras, insisting she would never eat so much fat in just one meal and certainly never ever in her lifetime consume liver. She worried about its implied cruelty to animals and mentioned the ban in certain parts of the U.S.
“Good, there’s more for me! I won’t even offer you a bite,” smiled Mia as she lovingly tucked into another delectable morsel.
“Well, maybe I should taste a teeny piece just so I can tell everyone at home that I tried something so frenchy and gross,” hinted Tooty as Mia cut a tiny morsel for her to try.
“It’s not liver-y at all!” she stammered. “It’s actually delicious --- in an evil, buttery way – not that I would ever order it, of course!”
“Of course. I’m proud of you for trying it. Tell me more about yourself. We’ll get arrested if we don’t sit here for at least an hour and a half for a proper French lunch.”
“Ha, that’s a good one! Imagine taking that much time...
