France continues to be a land of double-digit unemployment and considerable economic discontent, 
as far-right National Front party’s gains in this year’s municipal election show. Yet affluent Aix-en-Provence for the most part co-exists cordially with the street people who sit quietly in front of churches and outside other well-traveled locations seeking a handout.
Today we saw a startling exception — a sign in the window of the fancy Rue Espariat boutique, By Colette, a place that at times displays used and torn blue jeans for kids at prices upwards of $125 a pair. It’s a stone’s throw from a church, about a half block from an elegant hotel, just a block from the tony Cours Mirabeau. A new handwritten sign appeared in its window today that sort of made my blood boil, saying people were not allowed to sit or stay in front of the store’s 
display window. I have a pretty good idea what “people” the store had in mind. Presumably not its would-be customers.
Mind you, the beggars I’ve seen in this town address passersby as “sir” or “madam. ” One man, pictured above in Passage Agard, a narrow alley connecting Cours Mirabeau and Place des Precheurs, sells ashtrays or change holders of bright colors made from soda cans. I’ve never seen a hint of meanness or menace from any of the street people here.
In fairness, I don’t know just what prompted By Colette’s somewhat ludicrous sign. But I find it ugly, an indication perhaps that the long-simmering clash between the super-well-heeled and everyone else in the United States has found its way to France as well.
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Mud in my face.
I’ve poked fun at the linguistic gaffes of both Kathy and the French. And now it’s my turn to say pardonnez-moi in Lost In Translation: Installment 4. My brother Dennis is in town and has been having trouble with his leg. So we went into a pharmacy to get some strong Tylenol or Ibuprofen.
I’m not sure what possessed me. Maybe it’s that I have been reporting about bread all this past week. Maybe I was thinking about the expression ca vaut la peine (it’s worth the trouble). But for whatever reason I asked the pharmacist, avez vous quelquechose pour le pain? She looked entirely baffled, as she should have. Because I had just asked her if she had anything for bread — le pain.
A little bit of knowledge can be an awful thing.
The word for pain, by the way, is la douleur, which Dennis, thankfully, came up with. How many months have I been living here?
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I’ve mentioned The Book In Bar before, but it’s quite possibly the best place in Aix-en-Provence for a quiet respite between engagements. We had lunch today at Le Brun’ch at 4 Rue Portalis, a great low-cost spot for a piece of quiche ($3), a glass of wine ($1.80) or a plat du jour ($11). After lunch, we had an hour to kill before the afternoon matinee at the movies (May in Summer). And so we stopped by Book in Bar yet again.
Not only does the bookstore have an excellent collection of English-language books. It also has The International New York Times to read for free at your leisure and a small cafe where you can, for example, get an espresso with cream for $1.75. Add to that the free bathroom upstairs, no small consideration in a city that charges .50 centimes for the public toilet, and Book in Bar is the perfect place for a pause — of mind and body.