So finally the Iambic Cafe dusts itself off and drags itself to its weary feet, slightly jetlagged but coming round. Sunday’s arrival in London was enlivened by the rather leisurely delivery of my baggage, but after that it was clear sailing and I was greeted by faltering sunshine on the cobblestones.
Off to Paris on Tuesday, arriving by Eurostar in good time, and then an evening of bilingual readings at the Delaville Cafe, courtesy Ivy Writers Paris, comfortably accommodated and efficiently organized by expat poet Jennifer Stills. It featured Belgian poet Constance Chlore and Parisian Dominique Maurizi, as well as Saskatoon’s own Mari-Lou Rowley, shown here with Christmas tree..
We passed a relaxing Wednesday afternoon wandering around the 18th arrondissement, mostly towards Montmartre, admiring the food in the windows, prowling its shops and pausing for a leisurely coffee. Hills and steps there are many, but the sun came out from time to time and warmed the way.
Entertainingly, we passed a couple of goats gnawing on a grass fence we’d passed several times – and found we’d discovered a little pocket of urban agriculture, apparently lush in the summer but a bit bare now, with chickens pecking trackside near Porte de Clignancourt.
Our wanderings ended with a delightful dinner at the Bistrot Poulbot. Pour moi, saumon tartare, dorade , and (how could I not) a lovely confection involving lashings of my namesake Valrhona chocolate.