A stroll thru the Marais on a Monday evening is a great way to observe the local Parisien in their element. Families walk by with babies strapped to their chests and bags of groceries. All of the dogs are out with their owners after a day spent inside. Bicycle commuters pedal home in their suits. And the local bar is pleasantly busy but hardly packed. And so we found ourselves at the Lizard Lounge.
We spent a good hour just watching the locals from the little chairs by the window. A man ran down from his apartment across the street, ordered a double espress to drink standing up at the bar, and then ran back across the little street to welcome a guest to his home.
A elderly woman emerged from her elegant apartment building, accompanied by a chubbyish little Parisian dog, and performed a short tour up the street, down the street, and then back into her elegant apartment building. (The dogs in Paris are great. We saw one little fellow the other day bustling proudly down the street with a rather large bone made of pastry in his jaws and his manager not too far behind. I could have sworn he was wearing a jaunty scarf like the rest of the fashionable people on his street, but I think it was just a little dog vest, and his only other accessory was a supremely jaunty attitude.)