Friday, June 3, 2011

Mother's Day the Parisian Way

LIZ SAYS: We we having a morning coffee on a Sunday when we noticed everyone had a bouquet of flowers. Every single person and at least one person in every group had a big beautiful bouquet.
We had noticed before that Parisians do buy flowers and treats from the Pastisserie on Sundays. They go walking by in groups with flowers and pink boxes. They obviously all meet at their parents apartment and have a family meal. But, this was different the bouquets were bigger and every single person and one in every group had one of these big bouquets of roses.
As it turns out, Mother's Day seems to be a week later here than in the US. Dick and I had sent his mom Mother's Day wishes the Sunday before and we thought no more of it.  It was a week later when we noticed everyone had a bouquet and we wondered was the Bon Fete De Mere Francais? Oui!
Well, we had noticed the special Charles Aznavour impersonator lunch several weeks before, not realizing that it was a Mother's Day treat. So, we go to the tiny, and usually packed local cafe, for the lunch and decided to sit outside. It was breezy, sunny and warm. Perfect.
A little background on Charles Aznavour. He is an actor and one of those quavery voiced singers that sound oh so french.
I was in another local bistro when I noticed a little man with the most beautiful whip of white hair and sweet big eyes looking my way. For a moment we shared a glance. I thought, I know that guy. I told Dick to check him out and Dick said, yes, he seemed familiar. (We had just seen him in a movie about WW2 made in the 50‘s.) It was him, Charles Asnavour. He was on TV the next day. He was in Paris for some thing or other. Cool! A French legend had glanced my way. I can cross that off my list.
So, when we saw there was a Charles Asnavour impressionist at the local cafe, we had to go.
The impressionist was a good singer, we heard him though the open door as he sang songs from the 50’s and 60’s. The restaurant was full of women with hair from brown, blond to white, all shining with memories and love. 
At on point the festivities spilled out into the street, the little cafe was too small for dancing. So, a couple twirled out into the street. It’s not a busy corner. They danced in the street to the sounds of an Italian song about “Americano, Americano” bragging and drinking “scotch and soda”. Awww.

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