A Long Perspective

Category: Poems & Photographs

  • Francine in Paris – Day 11+

    Think chocolate eclairs so filled with soft chocolate and glazed with chocolate that it might as well be a soft chocolate bar.  Yum, browsing in any of the many patisseries around Paris can be a spiritual experience.  I won’t even mention the pain au chocolat we bought for breakfast.

    Palm Sunday at the American Church in Paris was a treat.  We were greeted at the church door with (first, a security guard) a man who gave us a piece of boxwood and a cross made of plant fiber.  The church is non-denominational.  It looks very Parisian built in the 19th century with lovely high, stained glass windows.  The organ is enormous and is center-stage with the organist sitting behind the altar and below the pipes. It is LOUD.  We sang “All glory laud and honor” led by the organ.  This was the associate pastor’s first Sunday in Paris, Timothy Vance from Bellevue, WA, naturally, so they had him preach.  Brave man, the place was packed.  The choir sang “Kyrie eleison” by Puccini.  The hand bell choir did Acclamation.  Big Wow.

    Deanna and I sat between two persons of interest. To my right was Margaret who is a member of the church and the wife of Zimbabwe’s representative to UNESCO which is one of the UN’s specialized agencies and housed nearby.  Since her husband works for Zimbabwe’s President Mugabe, I did not offer my opinion on their government.  Expletive deleted.  I did tell her that I had taught in Botswana, her neighbor.

    To Deanna’s left sat Dietrich a man who said he was born in Germany, has degrees in education and law and travels between Paris, London and New York as a lawyer and consultant.  He attends the American church once a month when he is in town.  He was sorry that we will miss the Easter service here next Sunday.  Actually, the pastor made a point of asking the congregation to attend the Easter service at either 9AM or 1:30 as the 11AM service would be crammed to over-flowing with the “Christmas and Easter Christians.”  (Who we love!, he added.)

    After the service, Dietrich introduced us to the senior pastor who, of course, has a son attending Lewis and Clark College and many other connections of the “small world ” variety.  Fun!

     

     

  • Francine in Paris – Day 11

    Le Dimache des Rameaux.  Palm Sunday in Paris.  We are off to the American Church on Quai d’Orsay not to be confused with the American Cathedral near the George V hotel.  (The Hotel Geoge V is so luxurious and posh that Deanna made a special trip just to photograph the flower arrangements.  She was immediately greeted politely by a woman asking to help her – namely help her out of the hotel.  The flowers are over the top, Deanna says!)

    Last Friday night, we met my British friends, Ken and Annie, at Cafe Verlaine in the Latin Quarter near the Pantheon on Descartes St.   In the cafe building both Paul Verlaine, the Symbolist poet, and Hemingway lived at various times.  Verlaine had a stormy love affair with Rimbaud and drank himself to an early grave with Absinth, that anise flavored spirit beloved by Picasso and so many other artists.

    When we arrived at Cafe Verlaine, Bridget, one of the owners and friends of Ken and Annie, opened the door, welcomed us and pointed us to K&A seated by the front windows.  The cafe is quite narrow and deep with a kitchen and large room for groups in the basement.  The decorations include photos of Verlaine, guitars, photos of famous visitors such as Paul Newman and quotes such as the following:  “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it will stay with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”  Hemingway, natch.

    Well, feast is the right word.  The chef has been with them over 20 years and trained as a patisserie chef so the desserts are scrumptious.  My last two desserts there were creme brûlée and an Apple tarte with coffee ice-cream and creme fraiche.

    If you come here for dinner, flip to the next-to -the last page of the menu.  For 21 euros, you can select from a list an appetizer, main dish and dessert.  Best deal in town for a delicious meal.  The best parts of Cafe Verlaine though are the owners, Nicos (Greek) and Bridget (from Brittany) and their son (who considers himself Greek) and the waiters – a friendly, attentive bunch.  Plus, you never know who you will meet.

    We had just sat down when 8 British men came in the door.  They had no reservation, but one of them had been there before.  Ken,  a Brit from Peckhem in London, immediately talked with them.  They had just flown over from London to attend a French vs. English rugby match, and they were happy!  “If we can crush France in the first 20 minutes of the game, we’ll win!”  Then they went on to drink vast quantities of champagne, sing Swing Low Sweet Chariot and order a bottle of wine for OUR table.  (Rumor has it that the Brits did win the match the next day, but did they Paris Three 2010 155crush them in the first 20 minutes?)

    More later, must go to church.

     

     

  • Francine in Paris – Day 10

    Buskers on the Metro underground come in all kinds.  Some stand in the subterranean tunnels and serenade you as you pass hoping for your spare change.  Some play violins or clarinets with accompaniment from a sound system and iPhone.  My favorite was an ensemble of seven men playing accordions and guitarist and singing boisterous folk songs enthusiastically.  You could hear them from far off – enough time to dig out some coins for their basket.

    Buskers also come into the cars.  Sometimes elderly men come on and play their accordions.  One young man brought his electric violin and sound system.  He played two tunes then walked up and down the car holding out his cup for coins.  As the train pulled into the stop at La Motte, he’s ready to get out and run to the next car up and do it all again.  His violin was so new it still had the bar code on the back.  Hmmm, it there real money in this?  Other folks just get on and start haranguing everyone about politics or else they tell their story to one person at a time.  All in all, I find I carry my coins in an accessible pocket to make it easier to donate.

    Today, I visited Musee Marmottann.  Right now, there’s an exhibition called Art and the Child which has paintings depicting children from the 16th (?) century to the 19th century.  The Marmottan grew and changed focus as families donated their works of art e.g. a son of Monet donated his collection of his father’s paintings including “Impression, Sunrise,” which led to the naming of the artists as Impressionists.  BTW, when I asked the location of that particular painting, the guard said it was in Japan.  Right.  Also here is an entire room of paintingsParis Three 2010 005 by Berthe Morisot who painted primarily women and children in pastel hues.  Lovely.

     

  • Francine in Paris – Day 9

    Macarons.  Macarons.  Walking around Paris, many of the sweets shops feature these dainty circles in many flavors.  Even Martha Stewart has a recipe:  confectioner’s sugar, almonds, egg whites, salt and, yes, more sugar.  Then, you make the filling.  Deanna and I bought chocolate macaroons from a lovely shop, deNeuville, in the Marais on rue VIelle du Temple.  (Taste?  Think yummy chocolate bar.). The streets in the Marais are narrow with many old and beautiful buildings such as the two that house Musee Carnavalet, the museum of the history of Paris.

    My musings were interrupted by the gas repairman who came up the 78 steps to the 4th floor apt. to check the problem with the hot water heater.  For the first few days here there was both hot water and heat.  Then both went off.  Now, you have to go to the hot water heater and flip a switch when you want hot water or heat.  Then in less than an hour both go off.  The repairman spoke rapid French, but I caught the gist.  Namely, the water pressure is poor, so there is nothing to be done.  A friend of the owners came by yesterday with two of her friends, one of whom was a handy man who apparently diagnosed the issue correctly.  (So in the tiny kitchen, we had an American, a Pole, an Italian and a man from Belgium all communicating in French and English to varying degrees.)  Only Krystyna, a woman from Belgium with a Polish origin, was truly bi-lingual.   C’est la vie.  Pas de problem.

    Back to Musee Carnavelet.  This townhouse, Hotel Carnavalet, was built in 1548 then revamped in the mid-17th century by arcitect, Francois Mansart.  The museum also includes the mansion next door, Hotel Le Peletier de Saint-Farageau.  Altogether the history ranges from pre-history to the late 19th century.  Unfortunately, they rotate the open rooms, so today the area covering the French Revolution was closed.  Thus, I could not show Deanna the scale model of the guillotine.  Quel domage.

    Some of the rooms have been brought from other locations and reassembled here.  For example, the early 20th century ballroom of the Hotel de Wendel was reconstructed.  An immense mural covers the walls and the high ceiling which is of the Queen of Sheba (and her court) by the Catalan designer and painter, Jose Maria Sert y Badia.  How wonderful it would have been to dance there.  Magical.

    After the museum, we wandered down the street to a creperie for lunch; it is called Page 35.  The chef greeted us at the door dressed all in white with a tall chef’s hat.  He was so delighted to see us, we felt right at home.  The crepes here are either savory or sweet.  The savory ones are made with buckwheat flour.  Mine had four kinds of cheeses. Tasty.

    After lunch, we walked around the Marais shops and came to a large memorial garden with an opening in a wall made of ancient, black beams, half-timbered.  Deanna pointed out that the beams did not rot because they do not touch the soil but have a base that must have been rock now concrete. In this lovely quiet place is a plaque with the names of some of the 500 Jewish infants taken and murdered by the Nazi’s.  Their ages are in months.  You cannot go far in Paris without a reference to one of the great wars or other tragedies.

    Paris 2010 485

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Francine in Paris -Day 8

    Window-licking.  The French go window-licking while Americans go window shopping.  Deanna and I went out to find 2 rue de Grenelle where the fictional heroine in the book, the Essence of the Hedgehog, lives.  We didn’t find it but we licked a lot of Windows.  At 8 PM on a lovely Thursday night, the cafes are crowded.  An Irish pub, Ha’penny, just down the street celebrates with everyone wearing big, goofy green hats and raising a pint!  Many of the shops start closing around 8 PM like the flower shop called, the Name of the Rose, the fruit stands, the patisseries, the spice shops, the wine shops – each one a jewel of specialization.

    Today, we went early to Le Musee d’Orsay, the railway station turned enormous art gallery.  What a thrill to see the originals of some of the Impressionists.  Manet’s Le Dejeuner sur l’herbe, dit aussi Le Bain, puis La Partie carree of 1863 scandalized Paris as the lone nude was a woman picnicking with 2 fully clothed men, and she was looking straight at the artist without a bit of fluster.  Shocking!!  A group of grade school children sat before it as a docent instructed them on thIs work of art.  Wonder what they thought.  There were lots of groups of school children in the museum today of all ages.

    We saw many wonderful canvases, sculptures and bronzes.  Deanna loves Pissarro, so she snapped many photos of his art.  He was a generous man who encouraged the younger Impressionists.  As a young man, he fell in love with a servant in his parents’

    home.  When they started to live together, his mother had a fit.  The couple had a number of children but could not get married until much later.  His mother never relented, but he remained devoted to both of them.  Pissarro taught his children art, and, according to Deanna who knows these things, the Seattle Art Museum has a painting by his son, Lucien Pissarro.

    Other favorites included Millet’s The Gleaners which was a social commentary on the back-breaking work of the peasant women.  Only the poorest of the poor could glean and then only in the briefest period.  In the background is the overseer on horseback and the tall mounds of the rich harvest of wheat forbidden to the women.    I also saw Manet’s Olympia, Paul Cezanne’s still life’s, and Vincent van Gogh’s self portrait (he died at 37!) among othe memorable works.  There’s a whole section of art nouveau furniture which is lovely with all the sensuous curvilinear lines.

    Tomorrow:  the Carnevelet, museum on the history of Paris.