Odds and Ends
Odds and Ends
When I experienced my rites of passage trip around the western states with my trusty beagle snuffy, my parents gave me one of those 18” Gallo salamis. After 3 weeks or so, they asked how much was left and I said 3 inches, and they said it’s time to come home. They knew that I would eat the salami when my money gave out. For the last week we have seen a bike locked up to a street lamp. Each day, another part of it is missing or broken. Yesterday when we turned the busy corner we noticed that someone had cut the main tubes leaving only the handlebars and the front wheel. Is it time to go?
Paris cannot be planned, organized, and controlled. It’s like an old dragon who quivers, snorts, and lashes out unexpectedly. We’ve learned to always carry our cameras and go with the flow. Yesterday we were on the Metro and I suddenly realized that we could transfer and catch a different line to save us some time. We hopped out, just missing the swishing doors. On the next line, a curtain was hung up between two poles. Suddenly music started, and a muppet show began. The muppet’s in Paris! I am positive that even the blank “Metro stare” of the Parisians was replaced with a smile!
In the Marais, we have heard someone singing opera from our little park. Considering the streets, including sidewalks, are only 20 feet wide and laid out in a curved drunken grid system, we could never pin down the location of the singer. On a trip down a red, yellow, and rust, cobbled alley, a young man on a foot-powered scooter came down the passage singing a sweet portion of “La Boheme”.
Beneath the streets on the tiled subway passages we have encountered a group of 10 Ukranian gypsy musicians and singers, belting out robust, foot stomping tunes. We’ve run into cellists, violinists, classical guitarists, constant accordions, and a Peruvian flute duo playing the theme from the Titanic, hauntingly as our metro leaves the station and disappears into some unknown tunnel.
Have you ever felt that emptiness that occurs when you’ve done something really dumb? First there is disbelief. It can’t be! Then you search for who’s at fault, anyone but “moi”. Then you come up with some crazy scheme to make things right. This week we have been aware that many of the travel guides of Paris we have belong to Kimball and Marilyn who will use them after we leave. Just the other day I said: “We gotta make sure we don’t lose the 20 trips outside Paris or the Rick Steve’s Paris Guide.” So, when we went in search of the hours of the Louvre in the Rick Steve’s Paris Guide, we couldn’t find the book! We looked and looked. Here’s Bob’s thinking after mentally blaming Gayle for this disaster, “O.K., we have a copy of the book at home in Sequim. We’ll call Bruce and have him walk around our house describing what he sees. When he sees the book, we’ll have him give it to Pat and Marty, who will take it to England and bring it on the Eurostar and will give it to Kimball and Marilyn in St Remy.
Gayle being a bit more practical, in addition to being somewhat French-speaking, called the Marmottan museum and they had the book. The lady ended the conversation by saying “you come?” We certainly did, and we encountered the best croissant of the trip, an obligatory accordion player, a puppet show, and Bob with his “chapeau bleu”, by request, took pictures of an Asian tour outside the museum and immediately after that, a German family, while Gayle acquired our guidebook from the friendly museum staff members.
Picture Set
Picture Set
One Step Over the Line
One Step Over the Line
Today we had a delightful day visiting the Marmottan museum which holds the largest collection of Monet’s works. I could see several attributes of his work that I’d failed to see before. Near the end of his life, Monet lost his wife and son, who lived with him in Giverny, which was only 7 miles from WWI front lines. Also during this time he was considered legally blind due to cataracts. I could see these events unfold with the use of huge canvases, larger than life subjects, and vibrant colors. You never see a straight line in his work and seldom do you see a fully loaded, fully drawn out, brush stroke. Instead there is a “tire skid” of paint. Darker colors hold the basic subject, lighter colors the draw out flow and add intensity. One water lily painting illuminated the water as a series of “Mona Lisa” smiles. Step back and you could feel the wind on the water.
Later we made another attempt to find the Bagatelles which is a portion of the Parc de Bologna. We tried this a month ago and kept walking in endless circles that were only broken when it started raining.
This time, eureka, we found it. This park was given to the city by the Sir Richard Wallace who made a reputation in Paris by donating over 100 drinking fountains due to his frustration at finding an accessible watering hole. I really wish he suffered from a weak bladder and went after some free toilets! He also built the spired Bagatelle house in 60 days on a wager.
“Pelouse au repos”, “Pelouse au repos”, signs were posted everywhere in this garden of tranquility. These signs tell the visitor that the lawn is resting. Shhh, don’t talk loudly, and certainly don’t walk on the grass. The French for the most part silently follow these rules. It’s the tourist and the legal/illegal immigrants that constantly step over the line. The counter balance to these outrages is a gaggle of armed and unarmed guards that patrol the park. One resident told me “if you get robbed they do nothing, step on the grass, you go to jail!” Four people broke away from the nearby strollers, walking on the grass towards a tree that had a peacock on a lower branch. Suddenly whistles started blowing from several directions and men in blue converging. I was having a Les Miserables flashback. Run Jean Valjean! The people returned to the sidewalk, front to back, equally spaced, ready for the chain gang.
Picture Set
The Seen and the Unseen
The Seen and Unseen
To be in Paris means being “Seen” in Paris. The state of “Being Seen” keeps coming up. Tour books will tell you that Café Les Deux Magots, where Hemingway and other notable writers spun tales, settled world issues, and basically made a nuisance of themselves, used to be the place to be seen. Now it’s Café de Flore which is right around the corner. As any wine snob knows, the best burgundy wines come from the portion of the vineyard that is highest on the hillside just before the woodlands. Any higher and the vines would die, but these hardy plants, desperate to live, produce the most spirited wines. The same goes for Paris, you could be in “The Place” but be in the wrong room or at the wrong table.
While we were visiting the town of Amiens, Gayle and I decided to pack a picnic dinner for our train ride back to Paris. Our first stop was a friendly chain of wine shops called “Nicholas”. We got into a protracted discussion about choosing the correct Bordeaux wine. First we settled on price, 10 euros. Then the nice shopkeeper had us choose the correct strength or hardiness. Americans apparently love hardy wines with oak that practically floats in the glass. After we selected the hardiness, she made us promise to open the wine 30 minutes before drinking. “The wine is sleeping and needs 30 minutes to wake up!”
Then we asked the fateful question that destroyed our plans. We asked, “it’s OK to drink wine on the train?” “Oh no, it is not permitted. Old people would be offended?” Trying valiantly to save the day, I asked “but it is not against the law? We won’t get in trouble if we drink wine with our dinner?” Alas, she was unwavering, we must not drink wine on the train, it simply is not done. Gayle agreed, we left, staggering our way to the train, without our wine.
We ate our simple dinner admiring the empty green fields of Normandy when I heard a sharp plop. A couple about 3 rows in front of us had just opened a bottle of champagne to savor their trip home. I hope some old folks saw them and were really offended. Since some would call us old, perhaps what she said was true.
The next day we met with Jacqueline to get our new microwave. I asked her if it was acceptable to drink wine on the train with your picnic dinner? She said, “Why of course, what fun would dinner be without a glass of wine!”
During our trip back from the Eiffel Tower, we got swept up in the Metro Business rush hour. The trains were filled with people who were not quite in focus, as sharp, after a hard days work. One businessman was wearing a green polyester tweedish suit. For shoes he was wearing lime green aqua socks. I determined that he must have had the following occupations; sells the green uniforms for the Paris cleanup crews, sells used escargot shells, is a dot-comer after the bust.
In both the Seen and Unseen category falls the successful conclusion of our metal window shutters. The metal window shades for our room have been broken, leaving us only the thin green lace like decorative curtains. I was having flashbacks to the “Truman Show” movie, our life in a fish bowl. When we arrived home a couple of days ago, Jacqueline was there, struggling with workman to get our window shades fixed. While we were all in the room, the workman turned to me and asked me something complex in French. Jacqueline smiled, and basically told him that the guy wearing a chapeau bleu “Blue Seattle Sombero” and wearing shorts (zip off pant legs, minus the leggings) is not French. A long 1-2 minute conversation erupted with pointing to the window shade box which is high above the windows, the chairs, me, and out the window. Jacqueline finally got off of the divan and walked over to the cupboards and pulled out a step stool and gave it to the workman and said, “Voila”. Her look said, “now get to work and fix those blinds!” The “Truman show has been interrupted due to technical difficulties. We will now return you to our regularly scheduled show, the chapeau bleu (Blue Hat).”
On the Unseen or we wish it were Unseen category, I would put “Dejections Canines” or dog poop. This is big business here. On the average, two people each day suffer a serious fall due to dog poop. Jacques Chirac made his name as mayor of Paris by physically cleaning up the streets. I hear that Dejections Cannies [DC] was a major component of that plan. As of last count, 20 million tons of DC is vacuumed up each day by guys in green suits driving little green trucks. This costs the Parisians 10 million dollars, which for all I know came from vehicle registrations. Sitting here in my apartment watching from the window, I have noticed two interesting phenomena when it comes to DC. If the dog needs to pee or DC #1, the owner watches the dog with a little smirk and moves on. But if we’re talking DC #2, everything changes. This is the time to admire the architecture, take a look at that new model of Renault Twingo, or light up a cigarette. A gentle tug on the leash, signaling the canine is now ready to leave, the Parisian moves on with nary a care in the world. This rather puts a new spin on the DC problems back home in Sequim.
“Oh no I’ve got a blister. Hum that is a weird place for a blister!” My moment of muse was interrupted by this utterance of Gayle. We spend a lot of time examining our feet due to the many hours of aimless wandering. As a college trained Primate Anthropologist, I can assure you that this is common grooming behavior while living in the bush.
We’ve spent portions of the last two days with Ralph, Cindy, and their adorable 2-1/2 year old daughter, Hannah. Ralph is our Associate Pastor at the church we go to in Sequim. They are having a wonderful time, loving the food compared with their London experiences, and generally overwhelmed by the richness of Paris sights.
During our visit together at the Rodin museum, a class of 3rd grade students from a local school were learning about Rodin. The teacher would get up front and have the kids sit down while she explained in classic French key points. Hanna, took a copy of the Rodin brochure and sat down with the class. She patiently watched the teacher and the students, marking up the brochure with notes from one of her fingers she used as a pencil. When the class moved on, she animatedly told Cindy what she learned. I couldn’t hear the words but saw her gesturing and modeling how the kids sat and what the teacher did. Plus she used the imaginary notes she scribbled to make it all perfectly clear to Cindy!
Another funny story that Ralph told me happened last night in their hotel in the Latin Quarter. Cindy and Hanna had turned out their light after a little light reading. Ralph, thought they were both out for the night. He continued to read probably some deeply inspirational book. After a 5-10 minutes, Hanna got up, ran around the bed and turned off Ralph’s light and said, “Good night Daddy!” This is a pretty good line to end this blog entry!
I have included some pictures of Ralph, Cindy and Hanna on the attached pictures.
Picture Set 1
Picture Set 2
Picture Set 3
