The End

29 April 2007

Here it is, our last Sunday in Paris. Over the last few days we have noticed that words we thought, even hoped, we had forgotten were resurfacing. You know the words, flights, customs, confirmation of flights, etc. We've tried not to think about it, but this morning being our next to last day, and tomorrow being taken up with all of the usual chores associated with leaving a flat (cleaning, laundry, returning of keys) it has been hard not to think of Australia. This was compounded when the mobile phone went off in the middle of the night and one of our enthusiastic friends had kindly texted us to let us know that Australia had won the ODI world cup.

Well, "early to bed and early to rise" they say, will make one "healthy, wealthy and wise." We're still hopeful-particularly about the "wealthy" part. What it did do, was get us an early start to go to the Musee de Montmartre. The guide books told us that it was open from Tuesday to Sunday from 10.00. We got there to discover that a printed piece of paper hanging from the door advised that it was open from Wednesday to Sunday with an opening time of 11.00; very French. We killed an hour wandering around and "people-watching." It was hot today although in the later afternoon the weather cooled down dramatically and we had the first real rain since we left Australia. But back to the Museum.

We were somewhat dissapointed since we hoped to see an exhibition of the wonderful Montmartre life, particularly the period from the middle of the nineteenth century to the middle of the twentieth. Instead we were treated to an exhibition of the impact of the Armenians who had settled in Monmartre. Not really what we were hoping for. Nonetheless interesting and we did manage to talk our way through getting the "seniors" rate. The French are very good about this. All you need to do to get this concession, where it is available, is to ask for it. It may be that the two of us look old enough so that we are never asked for evidence, but we prefer to believe it is just French generosity. We find it particularly interesting since we have Australian (Tasmanian) seniors cards and are denied most of the concessions these are good for in Sydney because the cards have not been issued in New South Wales.

Before going to the museum, we had tried to book for lunch at Chez Plumeau and been told they were taking no more bookings but that if we showed up at noon, on the dot, we were likely to be able to get a table. We did - and we did! In fact we sat at the same table this time as we had last time. It hardly seemed nearly three weeks since we last dined here. Once again food and service were excellent. Virginia had a double roasted lamb shank with thyme. The meat is served with a piece of dried thyme stuck in it which in turn is set alight by the waiter. The smell is wonderful and Virginia thought the taste first rate. We sat there having a very French, Sunday mid-day meal, enjoying the food and watching the people for several hours.

This is probably the end of our April in Paris blog, but it will be on the Internet at least until, hopefully, we add another segment to it in 2008. Until then, au revoir.

29 April 2007

A couple of days ago we told you about the removal of illegally parked vehicles. Unfortunately I wasn't able to get pictures of the process but this morning they were in our little street again. Rue Cyrano de Bergerac is a short street and a one way street. This morning, the truck used to remove automobiles pulled into the street and the end of it was blocked by a car with three police in it. The police got out and started ticketing cars while the truck began the process of removing them.

It is a bit of a spectator sport. People flew to their windows to watch and even the pigeons on the ledges seemed to stop and focus their attention on the process. After removing the first two cars, the truck drove off only to be replaced by a smaller vehicle which removed another car.

Then one of the bigger trucks returned and took two more cars away.

One woman came out between the time the trucks were there, took the sticker off her windshield, ripped it up and drove off. Another woman came out, saw her car being lifted onto the truck to be towed away and just stood watching with a quizzical expression on her face. And if you have any doubt, let me reassure you that the area is clearly marked as a "tow-away" zone.

For those of you who know Paris, there is, in addition to the Metro, the RER which is the suburban/commuter rail line. It is similar to the District Line in London or the suburban/commuter line in almost any major city. We both remembered just how nervous we were the first time we used the Metro many years ago. Now we feel as if we are old hands at it, jumping on and off and changing stations with no problems at all. We are also comfortable with the buses.

But the RER was a new experience and we were back to the level of basic learners again. Imagine, if you can, picking up a book of instructions on how to use something as simple as a toaster. The only problem is that it is written in Greek and you don't read the language. That's what it is like to use the RER. Nonetheless with Virginia's French we finally nutted it out. It was an interesting, if unnerving experience. Because these are commuter lines they are double-decker trains, much larger and more powerful than the Metro trains and not unlike those one sees in Sydney. They are fast and make fewer stops and what stops they do make are at major stations.

Unlike the Metro, you need to use your ticket to check out of the system as well as to get in to it. Best of all, at least the ones we were on were air-conditioned which, considering the temperatures here at the moment was a real added bonus.

Later, after leaving the RER, we returned home on the bus. Whilst we were waiting at the bus stop we noticed some officials from the bus security service. They were all in very smart outfits. When the bus drew up at the stop, the doors were guarded by some of these officials while other boarded the bus and checked that everybody's ticket was in order.

Clearly the driver was involved in the process because he guarded the front door did not drive on until instructed to do so. We were then allowed to board and noticed that the security people remained on the bus, and proceeded to check the tickets of the new passengers and the alighted at the next stop. It was all done with the precision of a military operation.

Later we caught the little electric Montmartrebus up to the Butte where we sat enjoying a beer and watching the passing parade.

Pictures from our neighbourhood

27 April 2007

Today was another one of those beautiful days with which we have been blessed since arriving in Paris. A quick look at the weather in the local paper suggests that it is going to continue until we leave. It is well above the expected average, the papers saying 7-10 degrees warmer than usual. Ah, c'est la vie."

This afternoon we went for a walk on the left bank in the area around the Sorbonne. Originally we set out to find the Australian bookstore but it had apparently closed down so we wandered around the area until we found a second-hand, English language bookstore call "San Francisco Books." Unlike "Tea and Tattered Pages," which we visited last week, this tended to have more interesting books including an extensive collection of non-fiction.

From there we simply strolled around soaking up the ambience in the university precinct. There is a lovely area where students gather called Place de la Sorbonne. The last time we were in Paris it was the centre of a demonstration. This time it was busy but quieter.

I've taken a few pictures of our very interesting neighbourhood. Just around the corner from us is a bookbinding shop where the woman who works there does the most beautiful work.

There is also a "natural" boulangerie not far from us. It has a very old-fashioned frontage. But then, one of the things about Paris, is the incredible architecture and shop fronts. Across the street there is a charcuterie and reflected in the window is the sign of the pharmacy.

It seems to be increasingly rare to find horsemeat butchers. Virginia and I both remember one with a horsehead over the shop advertising its meats, but that seems to have gone. We do have a butcherie not far from us which has an electric sign which is the image of a horse. Technology triumphs again!

Virginia and I are well aware that we are coming to the end of our time here. It leaves us with a strange sense of melancholy because we both love the city and know that at our age we cannot be certain that we will have the opportunity to return. Not that that thought is keeping us from planning a return visit in 2008!

Now that Virginia has finished her school, we will do a bit more exploring. Tomorrow we intend to learn how to use the RER which is the train system which extends further into the suburbs around Paris. It is integrated with the Metro at several points. We'll report back tomorrow.

Until then...

Trees, Dogs, Schools and Balconies

26 April 2007

One of the most interesting sights one sees walking around Paris is the greenery that Parisians grow in window-boxes and on the little balconies outside of their windows. Now, no one would be surprised at a window-box of geraniums, but some of the balconies have full grown trees on them. And these balconies are usually only a shelf of 8-10 inches outside a window. In some instances it is quite clear that the massive greenery is grown to keep the afternoon sun off the window, but in other cases it appears almost as if it is a challenge to see just how much and how big a plant can be grown.

France is a series of contradictions. Even in Paris life is very laid back (except when one is in traffic), yet it is also a country in which the bureaucracy can quickly drive one mad. Here's an example. A couple Virginia knows have a dog. The dog's name is Babette. It is Babette because it has to begin with a "B" since according to regulations dogs' names must begin with particular letters depending upon the date of the animal's birth.

Never have we seen so many mobile phones. For a country that is laid back, they sure do talk a lot on mobile phones. Walking, riding on the bus, in the Metro, the mobile phone is constantly in hand against ear. More worrying is the number of bicyclists and motorcyclists who use them as they ride along. It can't be easy riding a bicycle through Paris traffic while using a mobile phone and smoking, but it is a not uncommon sight.

Every day, when Virginia walks in to her school, she passes a primary school. Schools here are kept very secure. They are surrounded by high walls and one cannot see inside. Indeed, one only knows they are schools by the sounds that emanate from within. The gates in these high walls, through which one must pass to enter the schools, are guarded so that anybody who is not connected with the school, who is not a student, teacher or parent, cannot get inside. One thing that we did notice was that increasingly students are not carrying backpacks. There has been a government initiative to provide pull-along cases for students to carry their work in. The cases have the school logo on them so are easy to identify. Certainly, all the evidence suggests that this is much better than the strain kids put on their backs using backpacks, especially when so many hang them from one shoulder only instead of wearing them in the proper way. It is an initiative that we would like to see in Australia. If you are a parent with young children, take it up with your school council and get some "brownie points."

And while we are on the subject of security, today I took the bus through the centre of Paris and as it passed the Louvre I noticed a car that had obviously broken down on the side of the road. Standing by it were three very serious looking military types all holding automatic weapons and wearing black berets. I assume this was in case the car was actually a bomb. Security generally is high in Paris and while one generally doesn't actually "see" much of it, enough is visible to let one know that it certainly exists.

I paid a return visit to the Musee d'Orsay today and saw a fascinating piece of artwork. I first went to look at Manet's "The Balcony." Then I went to see a video based on the painting. It is a simple concept in which in a slow and methodical way the characters from "The Balcony", played by actors, engage in a variety of small tasks such as putting on gloves, kicking a ball, etc. It is a brilliant way of bringing the painting itself to life.

After some time in the museums, I took a ride on the bus out to an area called Chatillon-Montrouge. It is just past the peripheral road surrounding Paris, but is certainly different from the area Virginia went to the other day. It is made up largely of relatively recently constructed flats. Bland, boring and unexciting is about the best one can say for them. Although not yet run down, it is inevitable that in a few years they will look just like the high-rise flats in the poorer areas of London, Singapore, Sydney and every other large city around the world.

Enough for today. Virginia had a very interesting lunch with friends and we will tell you about that tomorrow.

Getting around in Paris

25 April 2007

This morning while Virginia was in school I set out to walk into the heart of Paris to the beautiful old Opera Garnier. While the route is a bit convoluted, it was most enjoyable since it meant going in at the same time that most working Parisians were setting out. If, once we are back in Hobart, I complain about the log trucks coming through the heart of the city, remind me of Paris traffic. Huge trucks, "bendy" buses, smaller trucks, cars, motorcyclists, scooter riders, inline skaters and pedestrians all vie for the roads.


It is amazing and a bit frightening since the rules of the road seem to vary depending upon which road you are on and whether or not the driver chooses to obey them. Surprisingly, we have not seen a single accident since we arrived although we saw a close one the other day when a driver decided he had waited long enough at a red light and decided to drive on; right into the path of a woman pushing a baby in a stroller. Close, but he stopped in time and both the driver and the woman just shrugged and went on their ways.

The scooter and motorcycle is much more in evidence here than in Australia. It is a cheaper way of getting around and petrol prices in Europe are more than double those in Australia. In addition, the scooters and cycles can weave in and out of traffic. It is not unusual to see a rider come up onto the pavement, weaving his or her way through pedestrians. Oddly enough, bicyclists tend not to do this; sticking to the road. The French bicycle looks as if it is left over from World War I and the riders, especially the women, ride in a very upright position. The bikes usually have a small wicker basket on the handlebars.

Of course, we are doing all of our travelling on public transport. Buses are frequent and efficient. This is because there are clearly marked bus lanes although how some of the drivers get their big buses in and out of some of the narrow openings in traffic remains a wonder to us. As for the Metro, what can one say about it? It rarely takes more than ten to fifteen minutes to go anywhere on the line, even with a couple of changes. The only thing lacking is a view, but then a train full of Parisians, tourists and out of town visitors is a sight in itself, and more than enough to keep one amused.

A few days ago I told you about running into our tour driver from 2005, Guynael, well, I had an even stranger encounter today. Virginia had a good deal of homework so I set out to visit museums. I went to the Orangerie to see some of the paintings we had enjoyed on an earlier visit and then strolled through the Tuilleries to the Louvre to look at their collection of nineteenth century painting. Suddenly I heard a voice, "hey, Bruce." It was Ryan Hartshorne, a former Jane student and one that Virginia and I had mentored. He was on the start of a tour of Europe and had just two days in Paris. Considering the size of the Louvre - one could wander around their for days without meeting someone else who was visiting it - it was a most remarkable meeting.

Although it is still a week until May Day, the traditional floral symbol, Lilies of the Valley (Les Mugets) are for sale on every street corner. We bought some to brighten up the flat and have been enjoying them for a couple of days now.

Tomorrow my four day pass to the museums runs out so I shall be doing a few more. Until tomorrow, then.

Bicycles, Buildings and Snow

24 April 2007

This is a bit of a commentary on "small things!" Let's begin with casual meetings. We are sure that most of you have had the experience of being in airports in far away places only to have your name called and there, when least expected, is the old friend or acqaintance who just happens to be passing through the airport at the same time as you are. In 2005 we went on a Globus Tour of France. The driver was a delightful young man, Guynael by name. Two years later, Bruce, sitting in an internet cafe, looks up to see Guynael! While we would have been surprised had he remembered us, we certainly remembered him. Bruce reintroduced himself and the two of them had a nice discussion of the trip, which Guynael had to leave for several days to return home for the birth of a calf.

The French have always had a reputations as "scoff-laws." "No Smoking," for example, means everybody else, but not me.

The other day, walking through one of the narrow streets in the Marais, we say several bikes chained to a postbox on which someone had placed a sign saying "Don't park your bicycles here!" Ah well, we wouldn't want to dent the French reputation. Actually they are very law-abiding. There is no smoking in the Metro now and in a variety of other places and it is rare to see anyone light up in these areas.

Another sight which constantly amazes us is the rickety platforms that are built out from balconies in the blocks of apartments when minor repairs are required. Major work, of course, involves very professional equipment, but minor works, Mon Dieu - remarquable!

I had planned to go to the Musee d'Orsay this morning, but instead wound up back in the Marais because I wanted to buy a Mezuzah to replace the old one currently on our door at home. If I haven't said it before, the Mezuzah consists of religious texts from Deuteronomy inscribed on parchment and rolled up in a case that is attached to the doorframe of many Jewish households in accordance with Jewish law. The custom of placing a mezuzah on the doorpost is derived from a biblical command: “And thou shalt write them on the doorposts of thy house, and upon thy gates”. The mezuzah is placed on the doorpost that stands to the right as one enters the door.

In the afternoon, Virginia headed off on a bus ride to Sarkozy territory, Neuilly-sur Seine. If you want to live as close to Paris as possible without actually living in Paris, this is where you go; that is assuming you can afford it. This is seriously nice territory just across the peripheral road around Paris. No small general greengrocers with a few staples, here one finds the finest foods displayed brilliantly. Everything you would like to have on your table but can't afford. "Truffles, Madame, mais oui!" A two bedroom apartment here can easily set you back the equivalent of a million and a half Australian dollars. Virginia liked it very much. She went to the Mairie for the usual map but instead was given a complete volume introducing one to the life in the area. Guess who wrote the introduction to the guide? Yep, Nicolas Sarkozy, the John Howard of the French electorate. He may well be the next Prime Minister; but we have to wait for the run-off election before we know for sure. Just so you get some sense of the man, one of the main pictures he used in his campaign was of him on a horse. I think he was playing polo! Even John Howard hasn't got the gall to try that one on.

While Virginia was strolling in Neuilly-sur Seine, I was off to the Musee d'Orsay. Heeding my own advice, I limited the visit to looking at the Impressionists and Post-Impressionists and a display from the collection of photographs held by the Museum. Of the Impressionist works, I particularly enjoyed a couple of pictures by Gustave Caillebotte. The Parquet Floor Polishers is, perhaps his best known work, but I confess to loving his painting of snow on the rooftops. In the past I have tried to see too much and this time was feeling quite good about limiting my visit.
The photographs were interesting with some dating back to the middle of the nineteenth century. They included formal and informal images mostly from Paris but with some from the United States and other sources. An enjoyable afternoon then at the Musee d'Orsay.

Cars and Museums

23 April 2007

We were up and getting ready for another day. The temperature was warmer than it had been for the last couple of days and we had just had our breakfast. Suddenly, there was a lot of vehicle noise on the street. From our window we saw a large truck with a small crane on it. Ah, perhaps they were going to do some work on the building. No, as we watched the driver went to a car, removed the sticker from its window, slipped a couple of straps under it and... But no, here came one of our neighbours; a very pretty little Parisian. Out she rushed imploring the driver to stop, not to take her car. She folded her hands reverentially, looked up at him and like all good men everywhere, he melted. He removed the straps, handed her back her parking sticker and moved on to the next car.

This area was clearly being targeted. As we looked out the window we could see a uniformed woman sticking tickets on cars and our friend - for we thought of him as a friend after his kindness to Mademoiselle - had started on another car. This time he was not interrupted. He swung the car onto the flatbed of the truck, hooked another car behind and drove off to wherever illegally parked Parisian cars are impounded.

And speaking of cars, we told you how closely they parked in an earlier blog. As we were watching the drama unfold, we also saw one of those little cars that had been boxed in trying to get out. Back it went six inches until it hit the car behind it. Forward it went eight inches until, bang, it tapped the car in front. Back and forth it went, gaining a few inches of "turn" each time until, finally, after a good five minutes and seven or eight back-and-forth shifts it pulled out; right in front of a fast moving truck. Fortunately the driver of the truck saw what was happening and stopped in time. We agreed that while the thought of driving in Paris is scary, the thought of parking is even more frightening!

And that was only the first half-hour of the day. Virginia went off to school a bit later because they were testing a new group. Although understanding the difficulties of running such an establishment, she feels she could certainly do better in terms of both the organization and the classroom methodololgy. Virginia has brought to the school the tale of the man who dines Chez Yang. The class is fascinated and has all gotten involved the development of the story. When they heard that we had dined there ourselves, she was plied with questions about Monsieur qui dine chez Yang.

While Virginia was at school, Bruce headed off for the Louvre. It is far too big to see in one or even a dozen visits, so he decided to limit himself to two elements; nineteenth century French painting and the apartments of Napoleon III. Both were overwhelming. In passing the area in which Mona Lisa is housed, it was obvious that this is the one item which seems to have the greatest appeal. People were lined up for more than 100 meters to get into the room and get a glimpse of the famous painting.

It is still very warm here. The skies are clear and blue and Virginia who likes her weather cold and cloudy is not a happy little Vegemite. And speaking of Vegemite, as soon as we set foot on Australian soil we will both be having intravenous injections to make up for Vegemite deprivation suffered while travelling.

Strolling the Boulevard

22 April 2007

Le Weekend continues!

Another glorious day and we slept in! After the usual morning processes, we decided to take a stroll along the Champs d'Elysses.

The Champs d'Elysses is beautiful and interesting. Eight lanes of traffic make it almost impossible to cross, but that doesn't matter because whichever side you are on there is plenty to see.
Despite its obvious elegance, there are clear signs that the Americans are making inroads. There are at least two Macdonalds! Being fair, however, they are not particularly intrusive and they have clean rest rooms something that cannot always be said for restaurants in France.

Speaking of rest rooms, yesterday we went to the famous ones in Place de la Madeleine. These are belle epoque and date from 1905. Art nouveau treasures they are very colourful, very elegant, very clean! The only problem is that for some reason they are only open for limited hours; 10-12 and 1-6. Well, the attendant needs to have a lunch hour and if you are caught short that's just your bad luck.

But back to today! After wandering around for a while and ducking into a few shops, we wound up at Louis Vuitton. One look at their prices convinced us that Samsonite was the way to go! Of course, one is paying for the name and that in turn is based on the whole concept of conspicuous consumption. I was reminded of the book by Thorstein Veblen, The Theory of the Leisure Class (1899), in which he makes much of this idea.

By lunchtime we had wandered and looked enough and decided to dine outside - the weather still being beautifully unseasonable - and watch the world go by. After looked at a variety of places we settled on Le Deauville where we enjoyed a very pleasant lunch. Anyone can find a place to eat on the Champs d'Elysses that will meet their means. At the one extreme, there are stands selling filled baguettes for prices no higher than you would pay anywhere else in Paris, and these often have an area on the pavement where you can sit and watch the passing parade just as if you had paid 100 Euros for lunch dining a Fouquet's. The difference is in the food and the fact that in the latter you would be seated on red velvet setees whereas in the former, you are more likely to be sitting on folded chairs. Nonetheless, whichever you choose, it is likely to be better than Macdonalds.

Today is election day and there is much excitement. Yesterday we avoided a demonstration in the third arondissment, at the Mairie. The French take their politics very seriously. It will be interesting to see the outcome of the voting and the direction in which it takes France. Especially interesting will be how, if at all, it changes this country's relationship with the United States.
The rest of the day was spent quietly at home doing all those things one needs to do, not to mention homework, for it is back to school for Virginia tomorrow.

The Marais

21 April 2007

Le Weekend!

The first nice thing about the weekend is that Virginia didn't have to get up at an unseemly hour. When the alarm went off at 6.30 she mumbled an unrepeatable expletive in French and disappeared under the covers not to emerge until almost 9.00!

Even in France and even on holiday, there are still tasks to be done so we spent some of the day doing laundry and cleaning the flat. Enough said.

We made our way down to the Marais and wandered about for several hours. It is an old section of Paris and being essentially Jewish is quieter to visit on a Saturday because many of the shops are closed for the Sabbath. This was probably for the best since many of the food shops called forth, in Bruce, at least, supressed memories of his youth. One lovely bread and pastry shop had latkes and bagels and Challah and knishes among other delicacies. We passed a number of shops selling religious items and Bruce will be going back next week to get a new Mezuzah. This consists of religious texts from Deuteronomy inscribed on parchment and rolled up in a case that is attached to the doorframe of Jewish households in accordance with Jewish law.

We walked by the oldest house in Paris, dating from the early sixsteenth century. It is half-timbered and very beautiful and well preserved. Then, going to the other extreme, we wandered through some of the most exclusive haute couture shopping areas. Fortunately they were mostly closed.

Virginia had homework to do so of necessity we returned to the flat where she did what she needed to do while Bruce went to update this blog.

While we were wandering around the Marais, we made our way to the Mairie of the third arondissment where we intended to get a local map. Each of the twenty arondissments in Paris has a Mairie or Town Hall and each provides a variety of services. Saturday seems to be the day on which they are largely used for civil marriages. Any other time of the week, you can obtain all of their services including a free detailed map of the area. These are absolutely marvelous for exploring the local areas. If you arrive in Paris, no matter where you are staying, we suggest you go to the local Mairie and pick up one of these detailed maps to explore your area.

A few days ago we wrote about the smells of Paris. Like any big city, it also has a lot of noises that are quite distinctive. Of course there is the sound of vehicles; fire engines, ambulances and police cars, but more than that there is also the sound of general traffic, people talking and calling one to another, and all sorts of other sounds. Listening to it, one can't help but admire the way in which George Gershwin captured Paris sounds in "An American in Paris."

Memorial de la Shoah

20 April 2007

Today, after Virginia left for school, I finally got myself organized and went to the Memorial de la Shoah. This memorial was only opened two years ago and is the largest research, information and awareness raising centre in Europe on the genocide of the Jews during the Second World War. It is haunting, horrible, unforgettable and magnificent. One gets a sense of the vastness of the Nazi machine when one sees the walls of names of those who were sent to the concentration camps and perished there. The most heartrending sight is the wall of pictures of 3,000 of the children who died in the camps.

The crypt is a place of contemplation in the centre of which there is a black marble star of David. Here lie the ashes of victims collected from the camps buried in soil brought from Israel. Both this and the wall of pictures of the children bring home that this was a crime not just against Jews, but against humanity. Outside the building, on an external wall, is a list of the Righteous among Nations which, at least to some extent, reminds one that even in the worst of times there are those who retain and practice their humanity.

After meeting Virginia back at the flat and having some lunch, we headed off to visit some of the Arcades. Although very elegant and very nice, they were not as impressive as we thought they might be, but that may be that we have been spoiled by some of the very nice arcades in Melbourne and Sydney.

And now the big news! We dined "Chez Yang." And not only did we dine there, we dined with "the man." Well, not exactly dined with - he was at his usual table and we watched surreptitiously from the other side of the room. The restaurant is absolutely clean, but slightly shabby. Certainly Mama Yang is the boss of the establishment. Papa Yang cooks and she is "front of house." There was a set evening menu at 14 Euros which was excellent value and which tasted even better with a nice bottle of Beaujolais.
Our man arrived on cue at 7.30 and seemed slightly startled to find other diners there. He greeted us in the normal French manner, "Bon Soiree, Monsieurdame," sat down at his normal table and then having glared at us for a few seconds, and having heard us talking, Virgina said to him, "Monsieur, nous sommes Australienes." "Ah," he said. And that, dear readers, was the sum and substance of our conversations with "L'homme qui dine chez Yang." We did, however, get a rather blurry picture of him leaving Chez Yang.

Virginia did notice that in his conversations with the proprietors, the term "vous" was constantly used suggesting a level of formality rather than familiarity. The proprietor certainly never referred to him by his given name, calling him only "Monsieur." It was strange being in a situation where we felt we knew them, but were aware that they had no idea who we were. Ah well, C'est la vie.
A bientot.

Comments on French Teaching

19 April 2007

I decided to take a bus ride this morning and caught the Montmartrebus, that little electric bus that I mentioned in an earlier posting. It wandered through the streets of Montmartre, up to the Place du Tetre and then down through the narrow streets eventually getting to Place Pigalle. On its route it passes the Moulin de Galette, a restaurant with one of the old windmills still above it. It is not the original Moulin de Galette, rather the Moulin Radet 6,but it is still very impressive.

Otherwise it was a fairly quiet day. In the afternoon, Virginia and I took a walk through Montmartre, stopping to admire the beautiful old buildings and look at the bust (literally as well as figuratively) of the entertainer, Dalida.
Virginia had an easier day at school but she is amazed at the lack of knowledge about Australia. Not, of course, that we expect people to be terribly knowledgeable about the country, but one would have thought they would have heard of kangaroos, koalas and kookaburras. But no, and Virginia is now committed to sending them pictures of these strange and exotic animals.

Because of Virginia's background and work in adult education she has been fascinated with the school and the manner in which the teaching progresses. As anyone who teaches knows, beginners courses, or courses in a new subject, are among the easiest to teach. That is because it is a pretty safe assumption that all of the students are at the same level. As one progresses, of course, the disparity between good students and poor students becomes increasingly greater. This problem is compounded by students who often believe their skill level is higher than it actually is or teachers who insist that if you are in an intermediate class, you are on page xxx of the text and if you are not it is, somehow, your fault. Another problem which is probably unique to a course like this is the variety of backgrounds from which the students come. This extends to peripheral areas too. For example, a Japanese student was quite distressed when she found out that there were not separate men's and women's toilets since she was culturally not attuned to sharing toilets in the French manner.

Virginia ran into or observed all of these problems in her French course. The first day, she was in so deep she thought she was going to drown. The second day, she was surviving with a few tentative strokes but still spent much of her time under water. The third day saw her treading water and by the fourth day she was actually swimming; making some progress. Since the course is ten days all up, it took almost half the time for her and the school to achieve her comfort zone. It is also inexplicable to us why this ocurred when there was a test on the first morning which took almost two hours and which should have been an excellent guide to her existing level. Clearly it didn't work since at least one of the students in her class spoke such fluent French that she was moved up to the most advanced level and another young woman had only a handful of words and had to be moved back to the beginner's class. That is an error rate of 40%! Mind you, as teachers, both Virginia and I have had the same experience when we taught subjects at what was supposed to be intermediate level.

Anyway, tomorrow we'll be back on the tourist type things. After Virginia finishes her classes for the day we are going to explore a couple of the old arcades which are supposed to be quiet beautiful. But more on that tomorrow.

The Case of the Missing Carte Orange!

18 April 2007

today was going to be a day in which I went to the two Memorials. First the Memorial de la Shoah and second the memorial to those who perished in concentration camps. I got all ready to leave and looked for my Carte Orange, only to find it was missing. Shock, horror. I didn't tell you, but last week I had washed a carnet of ten tickets rendering them totally useless. Surely I hadn't done something equally daft!

Then I remembered I had said to Virginia, "don't forget your Carte Orange." Ah, that was it, she had picked up mine. How annoying. So instead of going to the memorials, I went to the Internet Cafe and caught up on my e-mail. Then, when Virginia was due to get out of school, I wandered over there, having sent her an e-mail telling her what she had done.

I met Virginia and she didn't have the Carte Orange! So, we went back to the flat only to find that it was hidden under her bear, Windsor. Arghhh!! How did it get there?

After a bite of lunch we decided we needed to get some reading material. As my French is virtually non-existant, we headed off to a wonderful second-hand bookstore called "Tea and Tattered Pages." The shop has been around for almost two decades and its present owner is an elderly woman born in South America but living in Los Angeles until five years ago when she bought the shop. Thousands of second-hand books; all in English. She was also full of information for English speakers in Paris. We learned there is an English library, for instance.

Leaving there we went to one of my favourite galleries. It is housed in the Le Petit Palais and has an interesting and eclectic collection. We looked at the section on nineteenth century France which contains one of my favourite statues, that of a bread girl. After tea in the very elegant cafe associated with the museum we made our way home. While Virginia took clothes to the laundromat I went out to buy a rotisseried chicken from one of the butcher's shops. That was quite a test of my very limited French. I practiced all the way there. "Je voudrais un poulet pour six Euros s'il vous plait." I either got it right, or the butcher figured it out because I headed home with a 6 Euro rotisseried chook. Very nice, with salad and baked potato an easy dinner.

Musee Carnavalet and Singapore Airlines

17 April 2007

A very busy day. After Virginia headed off to school, I decided to go to the Memorial de la Shoah. The memorial is located in the section of the city known as the Marais. This is a section populated with many Jewish men and women. It is difficult to walk for any distance without seeing black-clad men dressed in their distinctive style.
Anyway, with typical insouciance I blithely proceeeded to get lost. But in the process of getting lost, I found a fascinating museum dealing with the history of Paris. Housed in a beautiful old building, the Musee Carnavalet had an exhibition of old signs, mostly from the eighteenth and nineteenth century. I found it fascinating! But the museum is far more than that. There are a number of rooms each dealing with a particular period in the history of the city. If nothing else, it made me aware of two things. First, the wonderful and complex history of Paris and second, my own apalling ignorance of that history.
I emerged several hours later and as I walked back to the Metro station I asked in a cafe where the Memorial de la Shoah was located. It was not far from where I had been. Oh well, tomorrow I shall go back and see it.

Meanwhile, back at the school, Virginia was learning, in French, about the terrible atrocity in which thirty-two students at the university were killed and even more were injured. It certainly gave a range of unusual words for the students' vocabularies.
Virginia and I had lunch together and after we had finished we decided to find the Singapore Airlines office in order to try to get the seats we wanted on the return flights, now less than two weeks away.

We caught a bus down to the Arc de Triomphe and walked from there along one of the beautiful boulevards that radiate from the Etoile (star), Charles de Gaulle. That done, we stopped for afternoon tea in a nearby cafe and shortly afterward headed for Monmartre where we had some shopping to do.

Dinner consisted of a lovely cheese and mushroom omelette again, a tossed salad and some Roquefort Cheese and crackers. Even in a small kitchen, it is amazing what you can produce. Virginia spent the evening doing her homework and I spent it reading a novel about the Spanish Influenza Epidemic of 1918-19 in London.

The weather appears to have changed and is now somewhat cooler. It is very nice since we can now wear some of the clothes we brought for cold weather and are not limited to one shirt that had to be washed in the hand basin every night since the washing machine in the flat ne marche pas.

Sacre Coeur and the Place de Tertre

16 April 2007

Today Virginia started school and it was a pretty nervous morning. She walked down to her school and took a series of tests to see where she would be placed. In the end she wound up in a class with five others, four of whom were from Switzerland and already spoke good French and one Japanese girl whose French was pretty limited.

After packing V. off to school with a filled baguette for lunch, I decided it was time to use my new Carte Orange. There is a small electric powered bus that runs through the Montmartre area. I hopped on board and went to Sacre Coeur and wandered around the outside of this massive church. While the size is impressive, it doesn't cut through to the soul the way Notre Dame does. The best part of going there was the accordionist playing just outside the Church.

The Place de Tertre is an interesting square. It is filled with artists; some good, some bad and most indifferent. It is a real tourist trap with people offering to sketch you or cut out a silhouette of you as a memento. On the one hand, it is really awful, but on the other, there is a certain charm about it; particularly in the morning before all the spruikers arrive. After wandering around the Place de Tertre, I walked back down to the area around the Marie for the 18th Arondissment. There is a lovely church just opposite the Marie (Town Hall)and plenty of places to sit, have a drink, and watch the world go by.

Since I wanted to check e-mail, I caught the Metro to the Place de Clichy and thought that as long as I was in the area I would wander along the Place Pigalle. It is an education in itself; at least as far as commercial sex is concerned. Shops with inflatable nude dolls, rubber nurses outfits, pornographic films and books, etc. It is absolute sleaze! I walked down as far as the Moulin Rouge in order to take a photograph and then back to the internet cafe.

Virginia was due home around 1.30 and I went back to the flat to wait for her.

She arrived back exhausted from her first day at school but after a rest we went out to do the shopping that needed to be done. We bought a couple more bottles of the wine we mentioned earlier. It's hard to pass up at such a bargain price. After dinner, V. settled down to do her homework and I read.

Tomorrow we have some exploring to do. I'll tell you about it in the next letter.

15 April 2007
A quiet Sunday and a walk around the Ile de Cite. We are getting quite adept at using the Metro as getting to the Ile de Cite took two different trains. As a general rule, you should never have to make more than two changes to get anyplace on the Metro.

When we got to the Ile de Cite, we were astonished at the odd noises we heard. We walked over to the Seine and realised that along its banks were thousands of runners. It is the day of the Paris Marathon and we heard that there were 30,000 competitors. In the square by the Metro station is an open-air plant and flower market. They also have a bird market and the sound of the singing is quite cheerful although we didn't hear any Kookaburras!
Much to our surprise there was no queue for Ste Chapelle so we took the opportunity to visit that remarkable building. Designed and built between 1242 and 1248 to house the relics of Christ's Passion, especially the crown of thorns, the possession of which put France in the forefront of Latin Christendom. It is a beautiful and unusual building with absolutely fabulous stained glass windows.
We continued to wander along the banks of the island and through its pretty squares ending up as one inevitably does at Notre Dame. It being a Sunday, we saw a Mass in process; a sight not easily forgotten. What was astonishing was that the Cathedral remained open to tourists even as the Mass took place and people continued wandering around, talking and taking pictures as if nothing was happening. We found that a bit disconcerting.

As one enters and leaves Notre Dame one is faced with beggars, usually ill or disfigured. We wondered if begging there had some special symbolism, such as a hope of a miraculous cure. We certainly felt more inclined to give to them than to the beggars in the Metro, some of whom are very young and appear very fit. On the trains, of course, you are trapped by the beggars and "musicians" who enter the carriage and hope to be rewarded for their efforts. Some are very good and all are polite and non-threatening although Bruce, the old grouch, says he feels like he is trapped and being held to ransom.

We find there is a tendency to overdo the sightseeing, but we now have settled into a "one major thing" per day routine. Of course, how much one tries to fit in depends on one's time in Paris. I am sure if we had only three or four days we would be going to the point of exhaustion. When we were in the Orangerie a few days ago we overhead a woman from New Zealand telling her daughter that the secret of enjoying all of the wonderful things that Paris had to offer was "Restraint." She was right.

Virginia starts school tomorrow and Bruce will be exploring Paris on his own for at least half-a-day every weekday. Clutching his Carte Orange, he will be visiting galleries and museums (albeit with restraint) and will be reporting on it in future messages on the blog.
A bientot

The man who dines at Papa Yang's

14 April 2007

Saturday was housework. You don't really want to know about it. We did, however, in the morning take a walk down to Rue Lepic and the area around the Abbesses Metro Station. These are busy streets. Some street markets, but much more classy - and, needless to say, a lot more expensive. We wandered around for an hour and then went for lunch at a pleasant cafe.
But a few days ago we promised to tell you more about Papa Yang's.

The apartment in which we are staying is on the first floor and opposite, at street level, is a Chinese Restaurant, Chez Yang. The Proprietor is Papa Yang. From our lounge window, we can see down into the restaurant. The restaurant is open for both lunch and dinner, seven days a week and also does take-away meals. We believe that Papa Yang lives above his restaurant because early every morning we see him leaving to return later with his shopping. We have also noticed his wife cleaning and chatting to the neighbours.

Last year we noticed that Papa Yang has one regular, almost nightly, patron. He is a tall, willowy, silver-haired, elderly gentleman. Invariably last year he wore a navy raincoat over a navy jacket, grey trousers and pale blue shirt. He arrived punctually at 7.30 and left about an hour later. We were intrigued and found ourselves speculating (sometimes wildly) on him and his antecedents.

We wondered if "l'homme que dine chez Papa Yang" would still be around and to our delight he was there as usual on our first evening here and every evening since. The only difference we can see is that because of the unseasonable heat, he is not wearing his raincoat. He always sits at the same table. We have never seen him with anybody else but both last year and this week he occasionally talks to a group of women who seem to dine together regularly. He never joins their table.

When it is a quiet evening at the restaurant, sometimes the proprietor, Papa Yang, will sit alongside him at the end of his meal. Virginia remarked the other evening that when he arrives he sits down and carefully organizes every item in front of him-cutlery, condiments, serviette, etc. He seems to clasp his hands in front of himself when he is not eating; almost as if in supplication or prayer. She said it reminded her of a priest preparing the alter to say mass. So, is he an ex-priest? Or is his meticulous manner and calm demeanour that of a man of the law?

By now you may well be asking why we don't cross over at dinner time to have a meal at Chez Yang and see what we can ferret out. The fact is that we have been voyeurs for so long we are loathe to intrude. Besides, the truth may be far less interesting than the stories we make up, especially those on those rare occasions when he doesn't dine at Papa Yangs. And so, we are left with the question, "Who is the man who dines at Papa Yangs?"

Friday the 13th and a Walk on the Wild Side

13 April 2007

Friday the 13th! Well, today we got our Carte Orange! In addition to the ticket you use for the entire week or month, you have a folder with a picture of yourself, your signature and your address - in case you are stopped by the Metro "police." We felt quite proud of ourselves and, as I mentioned yesterday, since they are generally for Parisians, quite Parisian ourselves. In reality it turned out to be much simpler than we thought and you can get your Carte Orange from a machine despite the warning we had received about how difficult they were to acquire. The trick is to speak a little French, smile a lot, and get someone pleasant to serve you if you are not game to try the machine which, because the instructions are in French, requires a reasonable knowledge of the language.

This morning we went to the Eastern side of the city to the Park de Belville. This is on a hill as high as Montmartre and affords great views over the city. It is in a distinctly working-class part of the city where many Africans and Asians live. We discovered a wonderful open-air street market which stretches for at least a kilometer and which operates two mornings a week. Prices there were rock bottom. For example a whole plate full of ten avocados cost 1 euro, less than a single avocado in nearby green grocers.

Because the clothes we brought are totally inappropriate for the weather, Bruce needed a light-weight shirt. Those we saw in most of the shops were between 20 and 40 Euros (and that is at the cheaper end of the scale). At the market he was able to get a quite nice shirt for only 4 Euros. Tonight it will get washed and at that price we will be interested to see if it melts or falls apart.
We treated ourselves to a very nice luncheon at Chez Plumeau just off the Place du Tertre at the top of Montmartre. This is in a quiet corner, away from the awful tourist crowds, spruikers and "artists" offering to sketch you or cut your silhouette. All over Paris one comes across musicians of every variety and every skill level. In the Metro stations, and aboard the trains, we have seen both men and women playing violins, clarinets, keyboards, accordians and saxaphones to name only a few. Today at lunch, just outside the restaurant, there was a cello player and an exceptionally fine one. It was delightful sitting outside, having a very nice meal and being able to listen to such lovely music.

A Walk Along Rue Mouffetard

12 April 2007

Paris is a city full of wonderful sights but it is also a city full of interesting, pleasant (and sometimes not so pleasant) smells. It is difficult to walk any distance without having the pungent, yeasty smell of fresh baked bread assail your nostrils. Baking is an ongoing process and fresh-baked bread is available through the day, beginning very early for breakfast and continuing until the evening.

Another smell that one finds appetizing is the smell of chickens being rotisseried. There are hundreds of butchers' shops with rotisserie units in front full of chickens being cooked. But there is more than food. Paris is a city of flowers and often as one crosses a park or walks near a florist, there is the smell of fresh flowers. At the moment Lilacs are on sale and their sweet smell is very pleasant.

On the other hand, in the Metro the smell of urine and faeces is certainly less than pleasant and in the stairwells of the Metro the smell of unwashed beggars, no matter how pitiable their plight might be, is not pleasant.

What brought this to mind was the fact that today was a day of walking. We decided to go to a suburb on the other side of the city which had been recommended to us as an equal to Montmartre. In fact it was dissapointing. It was pretty, but there was a middle-class primness about it that one doesn't find in the working-class area of Montmartre where we are staying.

We also went to Rue Mouffetard. It was an interesting and crowded open street market with many restaurants serving meals at excellent prices. There we saw one of the most interesting houses, its front painted with pictures of animals. We also saw a chair repair service operating in the market area.

It was not far to walk to the Place d'Italie and past the Manufacture des Gobelins, the great carpet firm which has done business since the eighteenth century.
When we were in the 13th Arondissment we went to the Marie to get a detailed map of the area. For those who don't know, Paris is divided into 20 sections or Arondissment numbered from the centre in a snail-like format. There is a Marie or town hall at each Arondissment, each of which has for the asking a very detailed map. By the way, we are living in the 18th Arondissment.
Expecting cold weather as in 2005 and 2006, we brought overcoats and warm clothes and are now finding that we are short of the lighter items that would be appropriate to temperatures between 22 and 27. Virginia is threatening to go shopping for some lighter clothes. I, in turn, pray nightly for a change in the weather.

The Orangerie at last!

11 April 2007

One thing that we have noticed that is a quite significant change since last year is the amount of "no smoking" signs in public places. The entire Gare du Nord, including all its bars, cafes and restaurants, is now non-smoking as is the entire Metro system. We have even seen eating places that appear to be fully non-smoking although to be honest they are not yet that common. It seems that France is going to move increasingly in the direction of limiting public smoking over the next six months to a year. Just as in Australia and now in London, we see little cliques of smokers puffing away outside buildings on their ten minute breaks. Of course some people choose to totally ignore the non-smoking signs, but one feels smoking is at least being curbed.
Today was a wonderfully successful day! Those of you who know us well will know that in the middle of last year we dined at the Sydney Opera House. We were introduced to a French wine which we found very much to our liking and for which we paid approximately $75 per bottle. A ghastly price, but there you are; "location, location, location." And it was a lovely meal and the view was sensational. Anyway, we liked the wine so much we found a supplier and ordered some from him. The price dropped dramatically to about $25 per bottle. Today while shopping at Monoprix, Virginia found exactly the same wine for well under 5 euros a bottle. That's about A$7.50. You don't need three guesses to figure out what we are drinking tonight.

Apart from doing the basic things like cleaning, shopping and laundry, we managed to get into the Musee de l'Orangerie. Not being a Tuesday, today, it was open and the queue was only an hour long. After about thirty minutes, Virginia was mumbline for all to hear "I'll bet Crown Princess Mary doesn't have to queue like this." Once inside however we found a most remarkable exhibition. Two oval rooms with the walls covered with Monet's water-lilies. The rooms were actually designed by Monet himself and are a perfect setting for these huge canvases.
As well there was a wonderful selection of Renoirs, Cezannes, Picassos, Utrillos, Modiglianis and a painter that neither Virginia nor I knew, Marie Laurencin.

Later we had tea in the Tuilleries Gardens. The waiter was sullen, the service slow, but nothing could dampen the wonderful weather and the pleasure of being in Paris again.

A busy first day

10 April 2007

Our first full day in Paris and, not surprisingly, we probably overdid things a bit. Admittedly we slept in, or at least by our terms it was a sleep-in since we didn't get up until 8.00 in the morning.

The day started with some learning experiences. Since the washing machine in the flat doesn't want to work, we went to the local Laverie Automatique where we spent a bit of time fathoming out the system. In the end we worked out that the payment is done through a central board for all the machines rather than on the individual machine, that there were four different load size machines and that we needed certain coinage to get things going. Nonetheless, with that inner glow that only comes with successfully navigating a French system, we moved on.

The cheapest ways to use the Metro and the Bus system are with either a weekly or monthly pass called a "Carte Orange" or with a "carnet" of tickets. The "Carte Orange" is not the easiest thing in the world to get, requiring a picture and enough French to get through to the Metro bureaucracy. We have been told that these cards are intended for Paris residents but since we are in a flat and living in Paris we choose to believe we qualify. We may try to get one for next week. The next best way is to get a "carnet" or ten tickets at once. This works out to just over a Euro per ticket and a ticket is good for one ride. In the Metro you can go from any station to any other or travel backwards and forwards all day as long as you don't leave the Metro. This allows changing of trains to get to wherever you want. On the Bus, however, a ticket is good for one ride; no transfers, no time allowance, just one ride. If you need to take two buses to get where you want, it takes two tickets.

This week we have opted for the carnet. You used to be able to get them at a booth, and in some stations that may still be the case, but when we went to get ours we had to use the machine. I don't think we've ever seen anything like these machines. Some take bills and credit cards, some take only credit cards and change. Not surprisingly the instructions are in French and it took us quite a while to nut out exactly how to use these mechanical monsters. In the end, right, justice and the Australian way of life prevailed and we got our carnet, heading off to the newly re-opened Orangerie.

We arrived only to find that like many museums in Paris, the Orangerie was closed on Tuesday! A walk through the Tuillerie Gardens to the Louvre was a pleasant way to spend the remainder of the morning and although the Louvre was closed (after all it is Tuesday) we went into the shopping area in the Louvre complex and had lunch. After lunch we walked up the Avenue d'Opera and took in the sights and sounds. Unfortunately, all of the really expensive shops along the Avenue are open (They stay open on Tuesday) and Virginia and I spent a lot of time pulling one another out of the shops.
One thing we saw that really amused us was the way in which Parisians park their cars. At times they are so close together that the car behind and the car in front of a particular vehicle are actually in physical contact with the hemmed in car. The way in which a car gets out is to be bounced out. People push, pull and bounce the hemmed in car until it comes out sideways! It then drives off. Another interesting way of parking which we also saw in London was the SMART cars. These little cars are no longer than the average car is wide so they pull nose-in to the curb and park there while all the other cars are parallel to the curb.

In the afternoon we spent some time in an internet cafe writing up our blog and then went down to the shopping area in Montmartre to get food for dinner. The vegetables here are beautiful and we also bought some flowers to brighten up the flat.