Qui a Marché Ici ?

In Paris, I try not to get too taken in by the "sights" despite their very obvious presence... While I create lots of panoramic images of the popular places, I tend to prefer the less populated spaces. Galerie 88 was one such place... it was a very narrow salon de thé along the Seine, not far from l'Hôtel De Ville.

Until I entered here, I'd not entered an eatery in which I didn't think I could rely on my english. On this trip, I was hoping to actually use some of the french I've been learning, and not rely entirely on the likelihood that the people to whom I'd speak knew english. It remains a daunting task for me as words don't quite roll from my tongue with the ease I'd prefer. The time it takes to put only a couple of words together in french seems like an eternity at times.

If I have one regret about my stay, it's that I didn't request of Phil that he only speak to me in french... it would have been hell, no doubt, but it would have forced me to use the language more than I did.

How did this stray to language? It was about small places!!

Ah, yes... I entered Galerie 88 wanting to see Anne McAulay's photographs and decided to sit and have a salad and a beer (two actually!). I expected that it would mean that I'd have to speak in french... as it turned out, I didn't have to speak much french as une salade grecque and une Carlsberg bière sound much the same in english as they do in french! Still, there is that whole approach/avoidance thing that occurs — that moment when we choose to take the safe route or choose to leap forth. This was one of those moments for me.

Besides, I really wanted to see Anne's photographs!

As for the title of this... it is a constant thought as I visit very old places — I wonder about those who have come before me. "Whose footprints have my feet just now retraced?" Famous or not, I wonder what kinds of lives have tread on these same floorboards or on the same cobblestone paths I've wandered. In a place like Paris, it's difficult to not feel something other than the stone or wood beneath my feet.

If you're interested in commenting, please sign up at Blogger to do so. The spammers have yet again found a way to ruin something, so I've configured this blog to accept only comments I've read first.