A Parisian Protest

Today Richard and I were walking back from La Tour d’Eiffel when we ran smack dab into a protest march.  As with everything Parisian, it was done with great style and flair.  There was music, and drum beating, and people handing out fliers, and one of those giant dancing air-inflated guys that you see at car dealerships in the States.

It turns out that they were protesting some kind of psychiatric treatment issues.  My high school French is not great — more on that later — but it appears that there is a vote coming before the French National Assembly about psychiatric treatment and hospitalization.  And one of the signs was for electric shock therapy.  Do they still do that in France?

It was interesting to see this drum-beating, musical protest walk by, stopping traffic and provoking some of the French nearby to engage in arguments.  It is one of the things that makes Paris such an interesting city.  You never know what might lie around the next corner.

In Search Of The Elusive Pelforth Brune

When I traveled throug Europe after I graduated from college, during my stay in Nice I had a beer called a Pelforth Brune.  I fondly remember it as one of the tastiest beers I’ve ever imbibed.

Whether it was because I was traveling on a shoe string and not able to buy much beer, or because the beer was exceptionally good, I didn’t know.  After that one beer 30 years ago, I never had it again.  I could never find it in any other bar or restaurant.

Until today, that is.  Richard and I stopped for lunch at a cafe near the Eiffel Tower, and there on the menu to my surprise was a Pelforth Brune.  I had to get it, and I did.  It was as excellent as I remembered — smooth and rich, yet light at the same time.  And it comes in a pretty cool bottle, too.

It’s nice when reality matches your memories.