As we headed toward John’s home turf, south from the Arc de Triomphe, we began to feel quite hungry – if you read my summary post, you may remember that we had breakfast around 11, and had been outside and walking for quite a while. Thankfully, we had a spare croissant and a piece of baguette tucked away in our bags, and were able to eat a small snack while walking down Avenue Foch toward John’s apartment building.
Tasty as the snack was, I’m not sure why I took a photo of it … but I did. Furthermore, I am not sure why I am posting it here … but I am.
I call this photo “scary purple hand of doom with baguette.” John is sticking his tongue out at me for some reason, although again, I’m not sure why; I let him have the croissant.
This is where the bus stop for the neighborhood was. Pretty awesome, with benches and a wide lawn (also good for playing soccer with visiting brothers) and city monuments in view.
A little further down the street, a field of crocuses was overtaking the grass. I’m beginning to think I’m constitutionally unable to pass a crocus, camera in hand, without taking a photo.
Here is John’s actual street – I have to admit, it is much, much narrower than I had always envisioned.
However, the dark, cramped aspect is relieved somewhat by the beautiful, brilliant blue doors lining both sides of the street….
and interesting details on the buildings.
Plus, there’s a courtyard in the middle of the building, so they had more light and windows – not just the ones facing the narrow street.
One thing has remained the same since the time John left – he’s always talked about the green-clad street sweepers who constantly maintained their street, and sure enough, look who we saw…
… and something that is a more recent addition, that didn’t even exist 11 years ago, has taken up residence at the eastern end of the street – a Velib station!
After seeing all there was to see on Rue Crevaux, we headed over to Place Victor Hugo to nab a little pre-lunch dessert at the Haagen Dazs store. John and his dad would regularly come here for Caramel Cone Explosion ice creams (known in the U.S. as just plain Caramel Cone), so we stopped for a snack and a bit of reminiscing. John had a cute little tray with a tiny waffle bowl of ice cream, and a tiny muffin, and a tiny brownie, and a tiny cup of espresso:
… and I had a coffee ice cream milkshake.
Whoops, where’d it go?
That was obviously not a necessary only-in-Paris stop in terms of what we ate, but it certainly was for John’s showing me his life there. However, we didn’t really feel like we’d had an appropriate lunch, so we walked a little further to Lenotre, a patisserie (I think) full of beautiful cakes, pastries, other non-sweet food items, friendly workers, and a small dog.
John ate a small quiche and I had two tiny sandwiches, one filled with foie gras, and the other with smoked salmon.
Then as we headed down to the Trocadero, feeling refreshed …
… we passed the last stop on our tour of John’s old stomping grounds:
… from which they used to order in, when they wanted some normal American pizza.
For those of you who might worry, please don’t – I actually think we did not pass this purposefully. It was not that big a part of John’s Paris life!