In which we walk

Another out of order post---I'm slowly getting caught up with the things that I've missed posting about while Mom was here.

When my mom visited us last fall, we spent one of the mornings that the kids were at school walking to the market at Nogent sur Marne, which is the next suburb over. (It is also the suburb that we've had to go to to deal with most of our titre de séjour paperwork, since that is where the nearest sous-prefecture is located.) She wanted very much to go back over there some morning this spring, and so a couple of days before she was scheduled to leave, we headed for the market after taking Cherry to school, and spent an hour wandering through the stands of clothing and food and sundry household articles. I found paupiettes de veau, which I'd been searching for unsuccessfully at the Auchan, and bought enough for dinner. (Ambitious people and those who live outside of France make their own, but I'm perfectly happy to pick up the pre-stuffed variety.)

We headed home afterwards and picked up Cherry from school, then went straight into Paris, because I wanted to show Mom where we had lived 3 years ago, and also because there was a church, l'Église Saint-Pierre de Montmartre, that we had seen with Blaise's parents, and which had unusual stained glass which I thought she would appreciate. So we rode the train to Place de Clichy and walked the block or so to our old apartment, which, naturally, Cherry observed that she didn't remember, so I told her about how she used to push all of our stuff under the grill in front of the window and I would have to race down the stairs to save it from the street sweeeper.

Then we headed across the bridge spanning the Cimetière de Montmartre and up toward Place de Abbesses, where we stopped at our second favorite bakery from our last stay in Paris (our favorite is closed on Tuesday and Wednesday) to pick up some lunch: pizza for Cherry and quiche for Mom and me. After we had eaten in a small park, we headed up to the top of Montmartre, where we watched the "cool guy with a soccer ball," who, unfortunately, did not find it necessary to hang from the light posts this time. Next, we walked around to the entrance to St. Pierre. (We skipped Sacre Coeur because we were running short on time--Blaise had a meeting in Paris and so we needed to be home in time to pick Sapphire and Ezio up from school.) Once we had properly admired the windows--lots of black, which is somewhat unusual for stained glass--we headed down the hill and looked for a metro stop, then headed for home.