Paris-Le Grenelle de Grenelle


I came into Paris last night late enough to see the lights of the Eiffel Tower.  I am staying within walking distance of it, but haven’t yet made it over.


I woke up this morning to the noise of a construction crew merrily hammering away outside my window.  I had just managed to drift back to sleep when the drilling started.  Then the boom box came on, and it was time to get up.

I am staying at Le Grenelle de Grenelle, and I have complained to who I thought was the manager, that is, Laeticia.  In reality, the manager is a different Laeticia, and she is somewhat incapable of evaluating the situation because she lives in, are you ready for this?


Yep, the owner lives a half hemisphere away, and won’t refund me even half my money, even when I say I’ll be happy to leave after one night’s stay.  If you’re keeping score, that would be $700 for one night, plus two cab rides from the airport

So Laeticia says that the owner’s response from the other side of the world is-screw the customer.  Well, actually it’s worse, because what she told the Parisian Laeticia, the one who is supposed to be the manager but is in reality merely in charge of taking all your money, in cash, is to talk to the construction company about keeping the noise down.

I can see that conversation:

“Would you mind?  The hammer is kind of loud.”

“Oh, yeah, lady, we’re going to soften that by wrapping our peens in cotton so your customer can sleep.  And I’ll tell the guys to walk around on tip-toe.  Would you like us to use a hand drill also?”


Ludicrous.  In other words, the ONLY mission of Le Grenelle de Grenelle is taking your money.  End of story.


Now.  Now, in spite of these loathsome people, I will enjoy Paris.  It is a beautiful city, and the worst of its people live in Singapore.


I had a delicious breakfast of fresh squeezed OJ, café’ au lait, and a big buttery croissant.  About $10.  Hey, it’s Paris.


Every Wednesday and Saturday they open up a big market under the Metro line at the Rue de Grenelle.  I walked the length of it, taking in the sights and sounds…and smells.  You know in advance when you’re approaching the fish stalls, and what a selection!  All kinds of species, and many I don’t recognize.  Past the fish market is a guy specializing in coffee.  Another one only does, apparently, green vegetables.  There are meat counters, foie gras kiosks, tables full of fruits, perfumes, pig’s feet, clothing, electronics…it’s like a Parisian version of a flea market, only with great food.  Fun!  I bought some bananas and strawberries, which were excellent…nice and very ripe, ready to eat.


And….that’s about it.  I’m waiting for the girlfriend, who is being picked up (late) by the Parisian Laeticia.  I hope not too late.


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