So back to square one again. For those of
you who haven't caught on, I'm currently living in St Germain-des-Près (the
"fashionable area" of Paris), south of the Seine in the 6th
arondissement. But fashionable districts don't come without a big fat
price tag, and that doesn't stop at renting an apartment. Indeed, this
infectious price tag has infiltrated bars, coffee shops, high street stores and
supermarkets in the area. In fact, it's home to two of the most
frequented and prestigious cafés in Paris - Les
Deux Magots and Café de Flore -
which compete against each other on opposite corners of a buzzing street near
the ancient Eglise St Germain-des-Près, founded in the 6th century
by a Childebert I (ruled 511–558). Tourists swarm the cafés like bees to sip the
renowned hot chocolate at Les Deux Magots, once frequented by the likes
of Hemingway and other famous intellectuals, or to soak up the philosophy of Café
de Flore and its WWII style Art deco interior. The literary culture of both hangouts is
apparently infinite, but the modern-day crowd it attracts seems rather
superfluous in comparison. As Timeout says of Les Deux Magots,
“The former haunt of Sartre and de Beauvoir now draws a less pensive crowd that
can be all too m'as-tu vu, particularly at weekends”. Yes; the real attraction is being seen on
either terrace, sipping your poignantly expensive cup of coffee, because it
makes you feel like you’re somebody.
That noted, I haven't actually been to either
café, partly due to the extortionate prices (which is inevitable), and
partly because I don't fancy being a sheep, let alone wait half an hour for a cappuccino while the couple next to me fuss about today's special. There's something quite nice
about going to off-the-beaten-track hideaways in a city, rather than squeezing
into tourist territory, surrounded by overweight Americans and Germans speaking defunct French, yapping away like maniacs and pronouncing
everything wrong. Not that I've got the best accent or anything, but some
of the pronunciations I've heard are almost offensively bad. I may have snorted over a coffee and a
croissant one too many times because of it.
But despite the hyper-lavish crowd, you'll be
hard-pushed to find a more idyllic (albeit upmarket) setting in Paris. For the food-lovers among you, Le Marché St Germain, hidden away from
the hustle and bustle, is a daily indoor food market where you can purchase
fresh fish, meat, fruit, veg, cheese and plenty more delicacies. There’s even an Italian stall where freshly
made vegetarian and meat lasagnes, ravioli, risottos and blocks of parmesan
cheese are paraded behind glass frames.
A Japanese stand is located in another corner where freshly rolled sushi
and noodle dishes are available at the point of a finger. A man carving jambon cru from a pig’s leg serves a short line of customers at
another end. Food is flowing, and cash
is being counted. Although I should warn
you; my only purchase there has been an €11,50 slice of Lasagne. Not exactly the
cheapest dinner-for-one, but it’s nice to visit the market from time to time to
take in the pleasant aroma and vivid colours.
Passing straight down the middle of St Germain-des-Près
is a long avenue known as Boulevard St
Germain where you can find yourself bombarded with an influx of tasteful cafés
(what would France be without them?), Swarovski crystals, expensive footwear,
haute couture clothing and an infinite number of shi-shi bars frequented by
Dior-clad diners. The neighbourhood’s artistic
license is confirmed by its number of reputed museums and galleries, notably L’École nationale supérieure des beaux-arts
(the distinguished National School of Fine Arts), La Musée du Luxembourg (Paris' oldest public museum which showcases
a vast array of the city’s artwork) and La
Musée D’Orsay (housed in a former railway station) which is right around the corner. It was mainly after WWII that the
neighbourhood exploded into a hub of existentialist thinking and a haven of
avant-garde theatre, painting and jazz, and much of this culture resides to
this current day.
Yet while it may be excruciatingly expensive to
entertain yourself south of the Seine in St Germain, if you like the words 'suave',
'sophisticated' and ‘swanky’, you've come to the right place. One of my preferred night-time retreats is Le Pub St Germain, a restaurant-bar
which opened here in Paris in 1968 during a time when English pubs were
starting to flourish in France, partly due to the political climate in France
as well as a revolution in gastronomy across the globe. At the time, this new genre of establishment attracted
many Parisians because of its atmosphere and conviviality. Its classic décor with a hint of exoticism
make it a charming hideout for drinking one of their original cocktails,
sitting down to a dinner of roasted duck breast and gnocchi, or for enjoying a
more traditional Sunday Brunch. Whether
it’s gossiping over a carafe of red wine with a friend, sipping a liquid nitrogen cocktail, or spicing up a tomato juice
with a splash of Tabasco, each
rendez-vous at the four-floored Pub
Saint-Germain has been equally indulgent.
I need hardly mention the complimentary olives, peanuts and generous
supply of cocktail sticks. Nor the tap-dancer who gave us a private showing à la Singing in the Rain, umbrella and all.
I can’t imagine being
anywhere else in the world right now.
Watch this space.
Montana
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