le jardin du paradis

It was strange times yesterday morning at my fruit-and-vegetable-stand, Le Jardin du Paradis. Now, most fruit-and-vegetable-stands have similarly hyperbolic names – La Bonté de Dieu, La Richesse de Mon Jardin, etc., etc., but I think this one is meant to distract from the fact that the stand is located in Paris’ biggest eyesore of an indoor shopping center, plunked underneath a disastrous high-rise apartment building that looks like something that was rejected by the mother ship (seriously, I would love to know the size of the bribes that got this built). Still, I am loyal to this particular stand, because of their amazing lettuces and also because of the couple running the stand, who, if not overflowing with warmth (it would be un-Parisian), always greet me with a friendly smile and let me take my time. Monsieur is a giant man with rumpled hair, sausage fingers, and a very delicate way with a tomato; Madame is whippet thin with sparkling round glasses and a deft hand at the cash register.

But when I arrived yesterday, both Madame and Monsieur were huddled behind the orchard fruits, glued to a television screen. Their faces were so somber, I was sure I was stumbling on some kind of epochal news moment, like the death of an ex-president or Brigitte Bardot. As I walked into the shop, the screen crackled and Monsieur faintly swore; they both looked over at me with such intense reluctance I almost said I would come back later. Madame’s eyes were actually glistening behind her glasses. With a final longing glance back at the screen, Monsieur heaved himself around to the center of the shop and asked if he could help me. I made my requests as quickly as possible and Monsieur weighed, wrapped and stacked my purchases with heretofore unseen lightning speed. When I was ready to go over to the cash register, Madame had still not torn herself away from the television, and so I used the opportunity to come closer and see what they were actually watching. The camera had zoomed in on the faces of two anguished lovers, clearly in heated conversation, although the reception fuzz was so noisy I couldn’t understand the French. As I watched on, waiting for Madame to gather herself, I realized that the blond woman looked very familiar, though I couldn’t quite place her. I scrolled through the short list of French actresses I know until it struck me quite suddenly that the helmet of hair being sported by both players was about as un-French as you could get. As was the swelling background music, tinny and familiar as well.

And it came to me. They were watching The Young and the Restless, dubbed into French. Vive l’Amerique!


* The above image is a cast photo from the Young and the Restless. The blond in question, incidentally, is the woman standing just to the left of the cake, Melody Thomas Scott. I don't actually know who she plays, but she's been around at least since I was in high school. And don't you think Le Jardin du Paradis would be a good name for a soap opera, by the way?