Letter From Paris

By Harriet Welty-Rochefort

Paris Kiosque - June 1997 - Volume 4, Number 6
Copyright (c) 1997 Harriet Welty-Rochefort - Used with permission.

---

Every once in a while the new face of Paris forms a stunning contrast to the old. I was thinking about this as we strolled around the Bastille area on a cool May evening before meeting a friend for dinner at Bofinger, one of my favorite "Belle Epoque" restaurants. After gazing at the Opera House, a modern cement and glass affair which is definitely not one of my favorite buildings in Paris (unlike the Grand Louvre or the Musée d'Orsay, two of the late President Mitterrand's other "grands projets"), we crossed the street to have a drink at the Café Rey. The café had obviously been re-done with a new paint job and all the modern comforts - I thought - until I excused myself to go to the ladies room where I was amazed to see...a Turkish toilet. For those of you who have never seen or used one of these contraptions, let me explain. A Turkish toilet is very simply a hole in the floor with two raised platforms for your feet.

Until 1970, Turkish toilets were what you got in almost all Parisian cafés. Fortunately, they have gradually been phased out and so your chances of stumbling upon one aren't all that great - of course it had to happen to me! A man using this can manage quite nicely, I would think - for a woman it is an incredibly complicated process. I couldn't believe that one could remodel a café and actually retain this equivalent of the outhouse. Quelle surprise!

After the Turkish toilet experience, I was glad to find myself in Bofinger, an establishment which seems to have been around forever and which is as well-known for its choucroute as for its Belle Epoque decor-mirrors everywhere, flowered lamps jutting out of the walls, waiters in black and white hovering like hummingbirds over a room full of chatty, happy people at tables covered with immaculate starched white tablecloths. Our visiting American friend ordered lamb chops while my husband and son tucked into a marvelous choucroute, the Alsatian specialty of delicately cooked sauerkraut with all kinds of sausages surrounding it. To my friend's horror, I ordered a steak tartare, raw hamburger meat seasoned with an egg and various spices. You've gone native! he laughed.

Well, yes, I thought. I guess anyone who can get out of a Turkish toilet situation with a certain amount of aplomb and then go eat raw meat and consider it just one more ordinary day in Paris, has probably definitely gone native, indeed.

A bientôt !

---

Harriet Welty-Rochefort, a bona fide Midwesterner from Iowa, visited Paris for the first time while in college. She became so completely enamored of France that she stayed - and has been there ever since. Married to a Frenchman and the mother of two Franco-American boys, Harriet Welty-Rochefort writes on business, lifestyle and travel for major U.S. publications. Her book - French Toast - is a lighthearted look at French manners and mores. Now available in Paris bookstores, you can also order it online. She can be contacted at 101676.467@compuserve.com.