ericksonsinparis - Day 4

Day 4 – ericksonsinparis

It is dry, dry, dry here in Paris. It is great for watching tennis and drying panty hose, but terrible for skin and hair. We bought some store brand shampoo this afternoon that is supposed to smell like mangoes and nourish and repair hair (in French, “hair” is a plural noun. Isn’t that interesting?) I hope it works. My hair feels like straw.
In addition to straw hair, the main physical problem of this day was keeping warm. The sun was bright, but the air was cool, and because we were hot yesterday, we left our jackets at the hotel. We actually purposefully sat in the sun today, something that we studiously avoided yesterday. Who knew? I guess we need to have our grandson Joshua give us a daily weather report.
We decided to breakfast at McDonald’s again, but this time I only had an Espresso – which included a croissant and a tiny cup of coffee. The coffee at McDonald’s here is fairly drinkable, but there isn’t much of it, and all the coffee requires a heavy dose of sugar, as well as milk if you can find that. After breakfast, we walked to the Open site, arriving around 10:00 a.m. just as we had yesterday. Because the play doesn’t begin until 11:00, we had plenty of time to find a sunny spot and warm up.
First, we watched a set of men’s singles between Dolgopolov, an up and comer from the Ukraine who reached the semi-finals of the Australian Open, and Schuttler from Germany. Dolgopolov won the first set easily so we moved on to our second objective. That was a women’s singles match (“simple dames” is what the French call them) between a French wild card selection (the host country gets some extra spots for competitors) and a Japanese. The French lady, Mladenovic, had won the first set handily by the time we arrived, but Morita took the 2nd and 3rd, thereby winning the match. I met a lady from Hawaii who was attending with two of her friends. She had had a string of bad luck; first the airline lost her bags and then someone stole her wallet. It was a sad tale, but she seemed happy enough. I do not think I would have been.
We had chosen that second match because of its location on Court 7, which was also the location of the match we most wanted to see, which was between American San Querrey and a German named Kohlschreiber. Because the grounds get more and more crowded as the day progresses, it seems a good idea to get to your chosen location in plenty of time and maneuver your way to a reasonable seat. Sam did not start off well and lost the first set. After that he settled down and won the next three sets. Yeah, America. Actually, Americans do not usually do well at the French Open because they do not have experience playing on clay. In fact, we learned later that this was Querrey’s first victory ever at the French Open. We learned that because as we left the court, we were close enough to hear him being interviewed by Pam Shriver. Pretty cool. He said he was nervous, but encouraged by the fact that Marty Fish, another American, had won yesterday. He said maybe there would be another miracle and John Eisner could beat Nadal. Imagine having that opponent as your first found matchup. Actually, Eisner pushed Nadal to five sets, which quite an accomplishment although one does not get any extra points in the rankings for doing well, only for winning.
A few words about clay courts. I knew the French Open was played on clay, but I had never seen a clay court up close and personal. They are messy. The red clay lies like a fine dust and records the mark of any ball that encounters it, as well as any feet. Instead of an instant reply, where there is a questionable call, a player can ask the chair umpire to come out and look at the mark and give his opinion. Since there are a plethora of marks all over the court, I found that strategy amusing, but I guess it works. Every so many games the grounds crew would drag something over the courts that worked like a giant eraser, eradicating most of the marks. Some players like to slide on the clay and are pretty good at it. Others seem to have a fetish for trying to knock the clay of their sneakers by clubbing their feet with their racket after ever point. Everyone gets their feet dirty. The clay dust settles on their socks and makes it appear that they are bleeding from the ankles.
The most emotional match was yet to come. It was a five setter between the Russian Tursunov and a Belgian named Malisse. Tursunov has not won an ATP match all season, says Rich, although he has been a top player in the past. Malisse had quite an active cheering section. It was a hard fought match. Tursunov certainly had the better physique, but Malisse won in the end.
We decided not to stay quite as late as we had the night before because we had been too tired. So we left around seven, bought some shampoo on the way home as I mentioned, changed into warmer clothes at the hotel and went out for dinner. This seems to be something of an ethnic neighborhood, not based on the appearance of the people but based on the many Moroccan, Greek, and Turkish restaurants. Tonight Rich had a Tangine and I had sweet mint tea, and a few other things. Wonderful.
Tomorrow we do not have tickets, so plan to begin to explore Paris. Stay tuned for some different sorts of adventures