Ah, Paris

I just spent almost 2 hours at a farmers market, and am now sitting enjoying a glass of wine.  Neither of these things are out of the norm for me, but today it's different. Today it's in Paris. 

Many things have been written about Paris, but take it from a girl that spent 1/2 her life hating it here - there is something truly magical about the city of lights. 

Now, I'm not talking about the Eiffel Tower, Louvre or Notre Dame Paris.  While all are a must on a first (or even second) trip to Paris, that is not the city that I am in love with. 

I love the Paris where I can have a 10 minute broken conversation with the man at the market to negotiate how much ham I want, followed by hand gestures and numbers to communicate how many figs and tomatoes I'd like.  

And I absolutely love where I am at the current moment. 

About 8 years ago, a girlfriend and I came to France. We headed south on the Rhone, and in one of the small villages we filled our water bottles from an oak cask with some amazing wines.  When my next trip to Paris was planned, I spent time hunting for a place like that here – and found one.

Unfortunately, I spent the next 3 trips to Paris carrying around the piece of paper with the name and address, never quite making it.  But when my mom and I came in 2008, we were determined to change that.

We did exactly what I did today – farmers market and then hunted this place down.  Extremely difficult to find, it was well worth it.  The moment we stepped in the front door, it seemed as if we stepped back in time.

It’s a small, dark place, ½ of which is devoted to the casks.  The other half has a small bar and a few tables with torn seats.  When we were here last, there were 2 French gentlemen having a very passionate conversation about something.  The romantic in me would like to think it was about some scandalous and delicious, but most likely they were just discussing what to have for lunch.

You wouldn’t be surprised if Victor Hugo walked in the door of this place – well, other then he’s been dead for years and that would be quite creepy.  All you have to do is close your eyes, and you can picture academics smoking, drinking and discussing the world.  And the best part it, when you open them, the reality isn’t much different.

To honor the charm of the place, I hand wrote this blog. No laptop,  no cell phone.  Just me, the paper and my glass of Sancerre rouge.

The biggest decision that I have now is what kind of wine to try next. And where to go tomorrow.  But for right now, I'm going to imagine what the crew at the bar is talking about.