by jemma margaret
Easter where I come from means there is a pack of Peeps stashed in a cupboard somewhere and half a dozen brightly colored hard boiled eggs in the fridge that someone may or may not someday eat.
One might attribute this to a lack of religion, but one could just as well point to a lack of chocolate shops.
Paris suffers from no such fate. There are two chocolate shops on my block alone,* each boasting elegant to garish chocolate eggs, rabbits, chickens, bells, and fish in honor of the upcoming festivities. If the last two items surprise you let me explain that the bells are flying and thus represent the resurrection of Jesus (obviously) and the fish are poisson d’Avril and only coincidentally linked to Pâques.
Sure, sure one might also note that France is a very Catholic country and everyone who was not a tourist seemed to be carrying around a small branch yesterday. However, the chocolate shops just might outnumber the churches here and unlike churches they have elaborate window displays. As of yet I haven’t seen anyone walk out with a 5 kg chocolate egg, though if that is what you seek there are plenty of options.
Be aware though of the substantial difference between the metric and American weight system. I casually ordered a kilogram of spinach last Tuesday and despite eating it for breakfast and dinner over the past few days am only halfway through.
*Madeleine and I sampled these shops and dubbed them both rather unimpressive.