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11.03.02: Le Raspail, rue Froideveaux / rue de Granecy As Sara put it, living in Paris means getting your lesson every day. Sometimes it's as simple as the answer to your question being a finger pointing to where you should look for the answer. Today it consisted of a elderly woman stopping dead (no pun intended) in the middle of crossing at Place Denfert to tell me that the correct place for me to wait for the light on my bicycle is behind the crosswalk. This was my lesson, and she would not be satisfied until I let her see that I'd learned it by backing up; think of it all as a "coming attraction" on the way to my favourite cinema, Le Denfert. In our wanderings through here the day before, Brian was surprised and impressed to learn that this was my old neighbourhood, since he considered it a particularly "authentic" quartier, a low-key and relatively undisturbed disturbed slice of vieux Paris. He was particularly of an undistinguished café on the far side of Place Denfert, where he'd been once with his girlfriend; I think it was the babyfoot (foozball -- whose term is sillier?) and Brigitte Bardot photos on the walls that most did it for him. I second the motion.
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