L’acteur Grec

or: The Call of Nature

Paris has a well-deserved reputation for having some very stylish gardens. They cater to all tastes, as long as you like them fairly structured. They’ve been planted over the centuries and a walk through, complete with statues, can give you a fairly good feel for what it may have been like in the times of Kings and Queens.

Yesterday I flaneured around Jardin de Luxembourg / Luxembourg Gardens with a friend. This 23 hectare Garden dates from 1612 and was initiated by Mary de Medici. That family was involved in many different things over the centuries including being the patron of quite a few artists that led to the Renaissance, providing popes, overthrowing governments, making wines etc through Italy and France and probably a few other places too.

I am now flaneuring with my thoughts…. they are an interesting family and well worth researching.

Back on track… no more mental flaneuring for the remainder of this post.

We did a meandering lap, following random paths, listened to a band play Good Golly Miss Molly and various other covers, read some inscriptions on statues until we rounded another section to stumble upon a children’s play area, basketball and tennis courts and some people playing petanque in what looked to be a fairly competitive fashion – they’d hung their coats on nearby racks. One competitor even had a large magnet on a thick piece of string which he used to pick up his balls so he didn’t need to bend over. For some reason, this impressed me. I’m not sure if it was that a gadget like this existed or that he couldn’t be bothered bending over (perhaps it was a health issue) and he had a way to still play and not have to bend and he didn’t care what anyone thought.

Mary Queen of Scots

Leaves gently whispered in trees while the intermittent breeze gathered fallen autumn leaves and swept them along the pathways in waves. Others were caught in the bright green grass and the contrast in colours served as a reminder that winter is drawing near, the trees would be naked soon and the grass would only be seen if there was no snow and all the leaves were collected.

It was all very picturesque. An unseasonably sunny day interspersed with brief showers. We were fortunate to be there in the sunny period. Everything was right with the world and we basked in the joy and beauty of a Paris autumn.

And then I needed to go to the toilet.

I left my flaneuring companion at a seat by the lake to absorb what could quite possibly be the last sun of the year while watching the children pushing toy sailboats and tourists taking selfies from every possible angle while perfecting their duck face while I went in search of the facilities.

On our way into the Garden, we had read the map so I knew where some were and had seen signage for others.

It should have been so simple.

It resulted in a second lap around the Gardens.

I was now flaneuring with purpose which technically isn’t flaneuring at all. It’s more like anti-flaneuring though I was still observing what was happening around me and I wasn’t that desperate to go so I could continue walking at a fairly leisurely pace.

I checked another map which indicated there were toilets near the end of the basketball courts. There weren’t. These had been converted into the tennis club hut.

I followed the signs back to the children’s playground as I remembered seeing toilets in there, behind a gate. This meant I needed to pay to enter the playground first (Euro2.50). I would have done this except the queue to enter was ridiculously long, even longer than a typical women’s toilet queue, so I continued to search.

Nearing another building near an exit, via the apiary / bee area, I did a lap around it. It was two storeys and looked stylish with its intricate tiling. I have no idea what this building is except that it was closed and didn’t appear to include a toilet.

Walking back toward the lake, I saw another sign and followed it to a larger building. Those toilets were closed.

I recalled seeing a toilet sign near the band, that one pointed toward a restaurant and there were toilets underneath.

After paying my 50 cents, I stood in the queue. For a toilet facility that has four toilets in it, only one appeared to be working so there was quite a wait. It was quite possibly the only female toilet available in the Garden at this stage.

Relieved, I could flaneur again.

I met my flaneuring buddy near the lake just as it started to rain.

Our flaneuring in the Garden time was over due to another call of nature.

* Thanks to Little Richard for the title to this post. This song is from 1956. I had no idea…