Who let the frogs out?

I live a five-minute run from Jardin du Luxembourg.  It's probably also a five-minute bike ride because the first half is uphill.  That strikes me as odd because I live on a hill and no matter where I come home from I always have to come up a hill.  Unless, I guess, I'm coming home from my run.  Then  it's downhill.  So, I live on what I thought was the top of a hill, but the Pantheon is on the top of the hill and the Jardin du Luxembourg is back down the hill on the other side. It's a hilly city.

The first night I had my bike I rode to the garden.  I knew it was only open for another 15 minutes or so, but I had to go somewhere on my new bike.  (I don't think I told you how I got my new bike, did I?  I took the train to a friend's house in the suburbs for dinner and she had her mom drive me and HER bike back to Paris.  I couldn't believe it and wondered why someone would be so nice to me.  Then I remembered something.  Three years ago a young Spanish girl lived in our building in Chicago.  She needed a bike and I happened to have one that I wasn't riding, so I gave it to her and she couldn't believe it and wondered why someone would be so nice to her.  And now I am remembering even more.  The bike was named Betty.  I named it Betty because an old lady that lived in my studio building gave it to me because she couldn't ride a bike anymore.  Give and you shall receive.  But it's not really fair, is it?  I got two bikes.  I hope Betty got something.)

Back to the garden.  It's 1.25 miles around the outer edge.  I run up a hill and down a hill to get there and then I run a few laps and then up a hill and down a hill to get home.  Before I go home, I buy my baguette, promise myself I'll only take the first hot bite and go to Arenes de Lutece for my sit-ups.  It's an old arena from gladiator days and it's an ABSolutely perfect place for sit-ups.  It's really like a big round park with gravel.  On Saturdays and Sundays it's filled with little competitions of all sorts.  You've got soccer, rugby, badminton and petanque all played simultaneously.  When a soccer ball enters a petanque game, the ball gets kicked back to the appropriate group by an old man that probably used to play soccer here 40 years ago.  Petanque is a kind of bocce.  But, they don't use the same kind of balls we use.  Their balls are all metal (steel?) and the two players are denoted by one set of balls with deeper grooves than the other.  Maybe?  I haven't been close enough to really analyze it yet.  My favorite part is when they pick up their balls with a magnet on the end of a string.  (It appears to be a sport for the older monsieurs.)  When they're not playing they stand there swinging what looks like a yo-yo.  When it's time to collect their balls, instead of bending down, they swing the magnet toward a ball and pick it up.  Seems to me kind of like a fun game in itself.

Back to the garden.  My first bike ride 15 minutes before it closed.  There were still a lot of people there.  Parks in Paris are really lived in. It's amazing.  So, I'm enjoying the pond and the flowers and the trimmed trees and especially the green chairs randomly scattered about.  Some are in small circles, some are in straight lines, some are used as footstools so they're facing each other and some are all alone (like me).  As I'm taking in the sights, I'm struck by the sounds.  All at once the frogs started croaking.  (Is that what frogs do?  I actually sat here for a minute trying to think of what we say frogs do.  I think it's croak, but that seems more like toads. )  Anyway, it was bizarre.  What made them all start at exactly the same time?  It was loud and rhythmical and mysterious.  I was really glad I'd decided to take this inaugural ride.  I stopped to enjoy the frogs of Luxembourg in case they only had a short season and wouldn't be out the next time that I visited.  No worries.  They'll be out at 7:15 every night.  They were the guards with whistles, all starting on the outer edge at the same time to clear the garden  and send us home.  It was riveting.