We own Paris on a weekend morning. We rise at our normal hour, the children letting us sleep in as late as 8am in honor of the weekend. We snuggle in bed; we have a leisurely breakfast, possibly even a labor-intensive one with American pancakes or scrambled eggs. We play board games, we do art projects, we get dressed, and we are still able to be out and about by 10 or 11am. We are just about the only ones on the streets. What, exactly, do the French do until noon? As they all appear to be locked tight behind closed doors, we cannot tell you. All we know is that it is almost like a ghost town. It's almost as if it were, well, Paris in August.
Needless to say, there's not much one can do, or buy, on a Sunday. There are some museums -- open much later in the afternoon, of course -- and one of our favorite on-island bakeries. This same bakery is closed on Wednesdays and Thursdays, however, which has messed us up more than once, forcing us to go to the closer, less-tasty, much grumpier boulangerie. My favorite cheese shop is closed on Mondays. The Monop' (an urbanized mini-Monoprix) is open on Sunday but only till noon. This amazes me, because I have never seen anybody in there on a Sunday morning but me. Am I really the only one who runs out of milk and eggs and virtually all other groceries on a Sunday morning? Let's just say we have many, many Sunday suppers made up of leftovers.
And then, of course, there's the post office. This is what happens when I try to mail a package:
Carry the bulky box to the post office, cleverly waiting till 1:30pm in order to avoid the 12-1 lunch hour. Turns out it's a 1-2pm lunch break. Carry the box home again. Come back another day. Get there in the afternoon before 5pm. Find out it closes at 4:30pm on Tuesdays. Carry box home. Come back another day. Return with bulky box to mail during open hours, but post office does not have or sell any tape. "They sell it at the petite épicerie on the corner, madame." Turns out the petite épicerie used to stock tape, but does not anymore. Carry box home. Find packing tape at the big Monoprix. Come back another day. Return to post office between 2-4:30 on a Monday-Friday afternoon and successfully mail package. Run out of stamps and need to mail a letter. Show up at 9am, after dropping kids off at school. Learn post office does not open till 10am. Come back another day.
Having firmly established that we can accomplish none of our critical errands on weekends, on certain weekdays, in the mornings, during extended lunch hours, or in the late afternoons or evenings, we would like to point out to you the coiffeur across the street from our apartment. Though he has posted hours that are as restrictive as most other places in Paris, he is in fact open at all hours of the day and night, ready to cut and blow-dry your hair, should you have a hair-styling emergency. I just wish I had known that when I set my hair on fire at Christmas.
Needless to say, there's not much one can do, or buy, on a Sunday. There are some museums -- open much later in the afternoon, of course -- and one of our favorite on-island bakeries. This same bakery is closed on Wednesdays and Thursdays, however, which has messed us up more than once, forcing us to go to the closer, less-tasty, much grumpier boulangerie. My favorite cheese shop is closed on Mondays. The Monop' (an urbanized mini-Monoprix) is open on Sunday but only till noon. This amazes me, because I have never seen anybody in there on a Sunday morning but me. Am I really the only one who runs out of milk and eggs and virtually all other groceries on a Sunday morning? Let's just say we have many, many Sunday suppers made up of leftovers.
And then, of course, there's the post office. This is what happens when I try to mail a package:
Carry the bulky box to the post office, cleverly waiting till 1:30pm in order to avoid the 12-1 lunch hour. Turns out it's a 1-2pm lunch break. Carry the box home again. Come back another day. Get there in the afternoon before 5pm. Find out it closes at 4:30pm on Tuesdays. Carry box home. Come back another day. Return with bulky box to mail during open hours, but post office does not have or sell any tape. "They sell it at the petite épicerie on the corner, madame." Turns out the petite épicerie used to stock tape, but does not anymore. Carry box home. Find packing tape at the big Monoprix. Come back another day. Return to post office between 2-4:30 on a Monday-Friday afternoon and successfully mail package. Run out of stamps and need to mail a letter. Show up at 9am, after dropping kids off at school. Learn post office does not open till 10am. Come back another day.
Having firmly established that we can accomplish none of our critical errands on weekends, on certain weekdays, in the mornings, during extended lunch hours, or in the late afternoons or evenings, we would like to point out to you the coiffeur across the street from our apartment. Though he has posted hours that are as restrictive as most other places in Paris, he is in fact open at all hours of the day and night, ready to cut and blow-dry your hair, should you have a hair-styling emergency. I just wish I had known that when I set my hair on fire at Christmas.
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