Cool tibouli with crisp cucumbers and freshly picked mint. Steaming sliced potatoes covered in mayonnaise, proper French mayonnaise, not the poison they feed us back home. Slices of savory roast beef cooked just enough to brown the outside but leave the interior a deep garnet red. I’ve had more delicious food in the past two days than in the past two months, excluding M. Bondurand’s dinner. Marlène is one of the best cooks I’ve ever met.
Right after I finished my last post I gathered the last of my things and headed out the door carrying my duffel suitcase, both backpacks, my camera in its belt case, and my laptop case. I said a polite and none-too-tearful goodbye to Madame and Jean, and Monsieur drove me the three blocks to the RER station.
Carrying my stuff up the stairs to the platform, this girl asked me in a noticeable New England accent if she could help me with my bags. I was surprised that someone would offer to help me in English without any preamble in French and wondered if it was because she had absolutely no doubt that I was also an American. Even now, I’m still preoccupied with looking as native as possible, probably because I still find the majority of American tourists as annoying as I’m sure the French do. But as we got on the train together, she mentioned she didn’t speak any French (lol, n00b), so I guess she was just being unreservedly helpful.
I was meeting Jean-Jacques at the Georges V metro stop on the Champs-Elysées; I changed trains at La Defense because there are fewer escalators to climb than at Étoile. When I got there we loaded my stuff in the car and met Marlène at their apartment, which was being redecorated, in the 8th. We picked up their six-year-old grandson Barthelémy at his parents’ house; he was staying with us over the weekend because his mother Virginie had several full-time shifts at the hospital where she’s a doctor.
Montmorency is actually just a little farther from Paris than Rueil, close enough to be on the Transilien train line that goes to Gare du Nord. The Binets’ house is magnificent, with three stories and lots of large windows. It actually reminds me of Ana’s house, but this one was built during the Haussmann era, so it has that feeling of architectural artistry that was lost when houses started to be mass-produced. And again I’m sleeping on the top story in a huge, absurdly comfortable bed. And the sunlight! Madame was very strict that I close and lock the volés (thick wooden shutters) every night. I hadn’t realized how much I missed waking up with the sun.
After we had lunch, Jean-Jacques and I took a walk around the town and he showed me a spot near the main square where you can stand and see the Eiffel Tower and the spires of La Defense. When we got back Marlène showed me how to make crepes. It’s really not hard to throw them in the air, just takes some practice until you have it down to muscle memory. We had a dinner of seafood soup with the crepes for dessert and went to bed at around 9:30.
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