Taking Advantage

BerthillonOn a Sunday, deciding to take advantage of what will become increasingly rare sunny days, my friend Kate and I (we’re also roommates and we both go to NYU Paris) took a walk from our apartment in the second arrondissement down to Îe-Saint-Louis. We walked down Boulevard Sebastopol to the Seine, passing by a fountain. The fountain was really beautiful! It had all these Egyptian-style statues, and a gold figure of what appeared to be an angel (some serious combination of cultures, here) on top. We stopped by and looked down into the rippling clear water—and a dead pigeon floated by. Nice.
Walking along the Seine on the Right Bank, you pass dozens of book stalls, full of French classics, translated American novels, postcards of Audrey Hepburn, vintage Playboys, dusty DC Comics issues still in plastic sheaths. I found a book of “simple English for the young,” called, very astutely, Hello, My Name is Charles. Kate found a French fan book for James Dean.
Once we got to Îl-Saint-Louis, we went to Berthillon, the famous ice-creamery. I had a salted caramel cone, and Kate had black currant with fresh mint. We headed back toward the river to cross to the Left Bank, and passed by a cluster of people standing around a small car. As we got closer, we realized that it was a vintage soapbox racer of some sort, with a steering wheel, padded seats, wheels that looked to come from very large old bicycles, and a small boy, of six or seven, seated very solemnly inside. His father wheeled him back toward their apartment building as a large white German shepherd padded solemnly behind.
As we crossed the bridge over to the Left Bank, we were treated to an expansive view of the numerous Parisiens who had taken advantage of the sunny day as well, by laying out their beach towels and sunbathing on those little outcroppings that poke out from parts of the river’s bank. They looked peaceful as the sun glaringly toasted them to a uniform dark orange.