It's Green in Paris

St. Patrick's Day, and even Paris is going green. Yes, the famed Moulin Rouge, for the next two days, will be the Moulin Vert.

Okaaay.

But I like to reflect on some of the other greened spaces in Paris. The Jardin Atlantique is a favorite example: a space created above the steelyard of train tracks outside the Gare Montparnasse in 1994, which has been converted to a green-space for all to enjoy. Plants, trees, and outdoor spaces, all at the doorstep of a major train station.

Ah, a fine sampling of lush green grass to enjoy at le Jardin Atlantique while waiting for the TGV... er, when it is not the season of pelouses interdites.

To Laugh

I loved this witty display of antique advertising lettering at an antiquaire in l'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. Fabulous antiques mecca in the south of France.

It successfully produced one of two desired effects: made me laugh.

Alas, didn't make me buy. Suitcase constraints.

Pauline's Breast at Odiot

For ultimate luxury shopping in Paris, nothing beats Odiot. Luxury in its finest sense, because there is nothing in Odiot that one needs. But perhaps -- oh yes indeed -- there are many, many items that one wants. Covets. All that glitters is gold, vermeil, and silver. [Image via Odiot.com]

Odiot. [oh-dee-oh]

Odiot.

For the uninitiated, let me just say that it is the highest of high-end orfèvrerie (goldsmith/silversmith) with an unparalleled Parisian pedigree.

For the cognoscenti, it is, of course, the home of “le sein de Pauline,” a.k.a. Pauline’s breast. Yes, chez Odiot you can purchase for your little coffee table a charming bibelot – a gold cup molded from the breast of Napoleon’s sister Pauline Borghese.

Her racy life story is more than I have space to indulge in here, so best to read a few links or buy the biography. (Now there’s a biopic waiting to be made!)

Sometimes the “sein de Pauline” is featured in Odiot’s glam-but-chicly-restrained store window. Other times you’ll simply have to stop in and ask to see it.

Spoiled moi, my first apartment in Paris was six storeys up on place de la Madeleine, whence I could gaze down on the Odiot shop window. And press my nose against the Odiot vitrine in a trance as I gawked at the shiny splendor inside. I had no choice but to pass by Odiot every time I left the apartment; and, trust me, I was never disappointed. Somehow there is something comforting in viewing sheer lavishness, just knowing that it exists because it is a fine art. And, curiously, the coveting diminishes as the appreciation increases. It was like walking past a museum display.

Ah, the days of my daily Odiot fix!

Do yourself a favor and stop by the storefront of Odiot for a great view of gilded Parisian splendor. Enter and look at the incredible offerings. But consider yourself forewarned! Odiot is powerfully appealing. You start nosing around for the least expensive item, just to be able to take something home. Like a breast of Pauline with a cute little butterfly.

Odiot

7, place de la Madeleine

75008 Paris

Your Valentine's Name in Lights in Paris!

You are my Valentine, my funny valentine....

The City of Paris is sponsoring a program that will allow you to submit your expressions of love, passion and/or marriage proposals for Valentine's Day. And the winners' professions of ardor will be displayed on 170 electronic billboards throughout the city on Valentine's Day. Maximum 160 characters (ergo, 20 more than a tweet.)

Details [in French] are here.

Go for it!

My first stab at it was a lame 11-character "J'aime Paris." So I did this instead:

Anniversary of the Death of Louis XVI

January 21 marks the anniversary of the execution of Louis XVI at the place de la Concorde in Paris.

His final words were, "Peuple, je meurs innocent! Je pardonne aux auteurs de ma mort! Je prie Dieu que mon sang ne retombe pas sur la France!"

A notable occasion in history. A notable occasion in my personal history for the major social boo-boo(s) I made when I first learned of the importance of this occasion from someone who takes it very, very seriously.

Read it and weep here.

p.s. No, he never called back.



image via wikipedia

The French Open vs. les Serres d'Auteuil

If you've never visited le Jardin des Serres d'Auteuil, you are missing out on a sublime, tranquil bit of Paris. It is the Botanical Garden of Paris, with a magnificent 19th-century greenhouse and acres of lush greenery, statues and endless moments for quiet reflection, located in the 16e arrondissement.

How could I not fall in love with this place the first time I saw it?

I discovered the garden one day when scouting out its neighbor, the Roland Garros stadium, home of the French Open -- what we anglophones call the French Open, that is. In France, the annual June world tennis championship is simply called le Roland Garros. I've been reading news bits here and there that the Federation of French Tennis has been complaining that the mega-event is outgrowing its current home, and has been contemplating a move. Harrumph, I thought. How can you have the Roland Garros if it's not at le stade Roland Garros?

Ha. At least, that was my opinion until I learned of the New! Exciting! way to save the Roland Garros/French Open and keep it at its current location: expand it by taking over a section of the Jardin des serres d'Auteuil.

Nooooooooo-o-o!

(I actually shouted this at my computer when I read the news.)

The Jardin des Serres d'Auteuil is a gem, every square centimeter of it. But the Mairie de Paris is apparently gung-ho on plans to let the Federation take over what it calls the "ugly part" of the Garden. The plans are to keep the antique greenhouse for show space but to remove the actual function of growing flowers.

Le projet d'extension de Roland Garros
Via the mairiedeparis. -

It's turning into a hot political issue. Tens of thousands of citizens have signed a petition protesting the loss of precious areas of the Jardin. Famed singer Françoise Hardy has taken on the protest as her cause célèbre.

The Federation of French Tennis will decide on February 13.

Paris Lampshades

This storefront window got me thinking about lampshades. Les abat-jours. (Hmm, or should it be abats-jour? Abats-jours?) Figuring out French plurals of compound words always gives me a headache. I learned the rules way back, but I'm still flummoxed all the time.

Anyway, these charming lampshades let me momentarily forget all the grammatical shenanigans. They were just delightful!

Régifilm: Authentic Paris Movie Props

We were wandering through the 11e arrondissement, doing what I like to do best: discovering side streets I've never traveled before.

Oh, I was not disappointed.

.

We happened upon Regifilm on rue Amelot.

My idea of Paris heaven. It was better than a salvage shop or a marché aux puces.

What is it? Apparently, it's an agency that rents props and costumes for period films. We wandered in the jumbled, crowded entrance way -- it wasn't really clear if there was an accueil anywhere, and no one seemed to mind our prowling around, so we just kept wandering further and further into the depths. A murky maze of antique splendor.

So much cool stuff.

Vintage lampposts, mailboxes, street signs, fountains, barrels, lighting, kitchen appliances, mannequins. You name it.

Think of any period Paris movie you've seen, and you can imagine the stock at Régifilm.

The Rooftops of Paris

1) I'm amazed that in my three years of living in Paris and countless visits, I have a) never stepped in dog-deposits on sidewalks and b) almost never injured myself while strolling through the city. (There was one painful and embarrassing encounter with a bitte de trottoir which I'd rather forget.)

Why should I have expected to have more pedestrian accidents?

Because, try as I might to be mindful of the sidewalk in front of me, I find myself constantly looking up. Paris buildings above the second-story level provide an endless and rich source of architectural surprises or day-to-day drama.

Architectural surprises often come in the form of mosaics or mythological characters as friezes. Day-to-day drama can be on balconies, windows, or roofs. (Once, riding on the 92 bus on upscale avenue de Villars one early morning, I spied a pair of expensive -- Christian Louboutin? -- spike heels perched on a second-story window ledge, shutters closed. The story of how and why they were there wrote itself in an instant in my mind.)

But for real drama, last week I was wandering up a narrow sidewalk in the 9th arrondissement when a flicker of movement on a rooftop caught my eye.

A worker, maybe a ramoneur (chimney sweep), was walking blithely along the 8th-story edge of the mansard. My heart leapt into my throat as I watched him casually amble along the slippery tin roofline, occasionally peering over. He stopped, wrote something on a clipboard, pirouetted to another spot, leaned over. The vertigo in me was suffering vicariously, but clearly this guy was sure-footed and confident. I heaved a sigh of relief when he disappeared over the other side of the roof ridge. Not that he was any safer, mind you, but at least I knew I wasn't going to witness his untimely demise. Out of sight, out of mind.

2) There are times when, eye-level viewing of the rooftops of Paris is somehow comforting and embracing. I was staying in an apartment in the 16e near place Victor Hugo, and the view from the 4th-floor balcony made me feel grounded and connected to the city.

A few streets over, the curtained rounded windows; others shuttered for vacation.

The chambres de bonne on the top floor: how many students living in those cramped and underheated garrett rooms?

In the mid-ground, a trio of church bells.

And in the foreground, an up-close view of the grey metal ridges typical of almost every Parisian mansard roof.

3) Then sometimes there are the spectacular views of the roofs of Paris. A friend loaned me her Paris studio in the 15e arrondissement for my last 2 days in Paris.

Wow. Paris from the 23rd floor is another story (pardon zee pun). These are views of the 15e and the broad expanse of the suburbs to the west. Mostly flat, modern roofs.

Bonus: do you spot the hot-air balloon from the Parc André Citroën (both photos)?

New Year's Day, Paris

There's a kind of hush.

Paris, the morning after.

I expected it at 9 am on New Year's Day.  Everyone sleeping in after all that champagne.  But even by almost noon, the streets were still silent.  I walked to the Boissiere metro stop, and could have used the street instead of the sidewalk:  not a car in sight. On a Saturday morning!

The metro was free until noon.  Even so, only a handful of passengers.

At 2:00 p.m., our almost-empty cross-town bus from the 16e to the place de l'Opera sped through intersections and stops in record time. 

But by 4:30 p.m., the return trip to the 16e found the streets 100% clogged with honking traffic.  Normal, quoi.

Ah, Paris the mystery is always unfolding!

Merry Christmas, Joyeux Noel. Joyeuses Fetes

Ah, itis so delightful spending Christmas in France with friends and family.  Finally. 

After the pagaille with all the snow at Charles de Gaulle (Roissy) airport, so many friends stranded or blocked on one side of the Atlantic or the other as they attempted to travel, I am blessed to be here in France, finally (after a 3-day cancellation), with both kids, for Christmas eve. 

Whew!

Wishing all a peaceful and joyful holiday season. 

The lights in Aix-en-Provence on the Cours Mirabeau certainly got me in the spirit!

Packing for Paris

Before I lived in Paris, I had total packing-for-Paris anxiety. And invariably, I packed too much clothing -- inappropriate clothing  -- and wore less than half of what I packed.  Visions of needing endless dressy outfits for impromptu dinner parties in gilded salons: that measure of inappropriate.

Tomorrow I head to Paris, and I dunno, what the heck. I'll have whatever is necessary and if I don't, I'll wear a lot of att-i-tude.  But the recent spate of cold weather and snow in France does have me a bit flummoxed.   Comfort and warmth versus chic-enough?  But what I've learned is that it really doesn't matter... within parameters. 

Footwear is always the most perplexing. And given the cost and trouble of extra check-in luggage, I am determined to take only one suitcase for 2 weeks; so, lots of boots and shoes are not in the cards.  This despite the Christmas stockings, and presents for Miss Bee and Harry when we all reunite in Provence. (I'm letting Harry transport the Nestle's chocolate chips and Skippy peanut butter for his sister.  I'm bringing the stack of New Yorkers and her forgotten clothing items.)

Ah. Footwear. Paris. Anxiety.  Should I take (a) brown shearling-lined matronly, totally warm suede boots, (b) my tall black-leather equestrian boots, or (c) my favorite new over-the-knee grey suede Stuart Weitzman zingy-make-me-feel-hip boots?

Answer is: middle-of-the road (b).  Waterproof enough, not the warmest, but I'll stop at the basement of BHV and get shearling slip-in soles to keep my tootsies insulated from the French chill.

What else am I packing for 2 weeks in France?  Not that you asked, but here goes:

1) a few pairs of straight-legged black jeans and one pair of blue jeans.
2) one all-purpose dress that will work for both Christmas Lessons and Carols at the American Cathedral and zippity-splashy for New Year's eve (I learned the hard -embarrassing - way that that le Reveillon is the one event that is never casual in Paris.)
3) a few cashmere v-necks, to be worn over scoop-necked or v-neck T-shirts.
4) whatever pjs I take, There Will Be Slippers.
5) a variety of warm shawls for wrapping around the neck
6) my shearling jacket from Peau d'Eve
7) accessories: so lightweight and filled with variety
8) the earth's smallest folding umbrella
9) wearing the boots, taking a pair of black loafers and a pair of black ballerina flats.(Egad, no heels.  Will I regret it?)
10) a collapsible Longchamp bag for the return trip.  I always bring back more than I take!

Inflight, I'll keep it to the minimum:

1. All the technical requisites (laptop, Droid, noise-cancelling headphones, Canon Power shot, and their many cables and European adapters which still confuse me)
2. Flight spray (can't live without it)
3. Unisom sleeping gels
4. Toss-away cotton crew socks
5) mini-portions of mouthwash, hand lotion, and lip gloss.  No more.  Who am I kidding?  Full trousse de maquillage definitely not needed on board. I'm not going to meet the bachelor cousin of the King of Spain in flight or anything. Even if I wear pearls and try to get upgraded to business class. Hah. It ain't the same as the olden days.
6) my leftover euros and RATP tickets, for quick exit after clearing customs.

Have I forgotten anything?

Paris is for walking... and for sitting

Paris is for walking.

Then after all that walking, it's time to take a rest.

I love the benches and other seats in Paris.  The chairs scattered in the Tuileries or the Jardin du Luxembourg.  And the benches just about everywhere. 

Some favorites:

Sunday in the garden of the Jardin des Plantes in the 5e

Square Ozanam in the 6e

Les jardins des Serres d'Auteuil in the 16e

Sitting is an art, of course.

 In Paris, anyway.

Doorway with identity crisis

Christmas in Provence

My eyes are getting a bit rectangular these days as I scour the computer screen for hours, looking at on-line listings of vacation rentals in Provence.  Vacation rentals that will start in a little more than two weeks, mind you. Eek.

Yeah, yeah, I should have booked this months ago.  But coordinating a family vacation when one person (moi, the coordinator) is living and working in U.S. Pacific time, one (Harry) is studying on U.S. East Coast time, and the other (Miss Bee) is teaching on Provence time, it just ain't as simple as it might seem.  Plus, the family ideas seem to ... ahem, evolve.  At first it was all Riviera-Cote-d'Azur-I've-never-been-to-Monaco, then it became all let's-visit-charming-provencal-villages, then there was the maybe-we-could-spend-New-Year's-in-Paris.  And so it goes.  We're an adventurous, spontaneous trio, and I have no doubts that we'll have a jolly time.  And we'll never have enough days to see all the family friends in various provinces of France, because most are travelling away from home during the vacances scolaires.

So-- I'm excited about returning to Provence, which, despite three years in Paris, I haven't re-visited since I was a student there three decades ago.  Christmas in Provence is a very special time, laden with special lore, including the Santons de Provence (um, I'm still working on appreciating them) and a whole tradition which is very provencal and not very much parisien.

And, by the way, I have to disabuse the knowledge of friends who say,  "oooh -- the South of France!" and picture us sunning by the pool for this vacation. Today's top temperature in Aix was a frosty 8 degrees celsius.  Packing my woolies!

Here is my must-see list for my kiddos when we're in Provence:
Aix, Marseille, Cassis, Lourmarin, Les Baux, Manosque, Gordes, Arles, Avignon.

Any suggestions?

Photo via Avignon et Provence

Et avec cela?

In conjunction with World AIDS awareness day this week, some 200 cafés across Paris are participating in the "Paris Capote" initiative, offering a condom with every coffee ordered from December 1 - 5.

The program, sponsored by the Mairie de Paris, has a simple driving principle:  for every café purchased, a condom (préservatif) is offered on the side.  The goal is to increase awareness of the health benefits of safe sex and to make condoms a more familiar and normal presence:  less [my words] ooh-la-la, and more a matter-of-fact part of everyday life.

Reactions?

"Au début les clients sont surpris et ça les fait plutôt rire, mais au final je pense que cela les fait réfléchir."

["At first customers were surprised, and most were laughing about it, but ultimately I think it made them stop and think about it."]


Photo via paris.fr

School Vacations in France

If you live in France, you pretty much live by the calendar of school vacations -- vacances scolaires -- or ignore it at your peril.

But even as a some-time traveler to France, it's helpful to know when a given area will be on vacation.

Vacation times can affect everything from hotel/apartment rental prices to when you might be able to get together with friends who live in France. From experience, I can say that a majority are not at home when it is school vacation!

Divided into Zones A, B, and C, the school vacations are designed so that not all of France is on vacation at the same time.  Paris/Ile de France, for example, is Zone C (purple), with winter break February 12- 28.  Zone A (yellow), including Brittany and much of south-central France, will have its winter break February 26 - March 14. And so on.

So check the handy map and plan accordingly.

The Future of La Samaritaine



photo via Wikipedia

More updates on Paris real estate news.

Famed Paris department store La Samaritaine is now 100% owned by luxury goods conglomerate  LVMH (Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessy), which this week bought out the 40.1% ownership that had been retained by the Fondation Cognacq-Jay, according to an article in Le Nouvel Observateur. So that last speed-bump in the path of its renovation is out of the way, and plans will move forward.

I wrote earlier that the beloved department store was shuttered abruptly about five years ago by LVMH.  The website and signs on the building's exterior enigmatically announce "Department store closed due to works for the purpose of security."   It has been sitting vacant since 2005 (always a disappointing surprise to past travellers to Paris who haven't been in the city recently).  The building apparently will be transformed into a mixed-use complex: a luxury hotel filling out the historic facade with the fabulous view of the Seine, retail space on rue de Rivoli, offices and mixed-income housing, and a day-care center (“une crèche”). The renovations will be designed by the Japanese architectural firm Sanaa.

Shovels will go in the ground in late 2011, with a planned opening of the newly configurated spaces at the end of 2013.

I understand now how the building will be re-purposed-- but will the department store as an entity be resurrected?

There Goes the Neighborhood

I used to have a love/hate relationship with fashion shopping my Paris neighborhood.  I loved it of course because Le Bon Marché was there, but more importantly because there were two tres tres cool designer discount shops nestled in among some of the more mémé (matronly) shops.  One, Le Mouton à Cinq Pattes on rue St. Placide, was so incredibly inexpensive that I bought (among many other items) a Jean-Paul Gaultier blouse that didn't fit "but might someday," so I simply had to take it home.

Enter the "hate" part.  The thing hung in my closet, tags on, until I packed it up and took it with me to the States, and sold it at a US consignment shop for way more than I had paid for it.  "Hate" because I couldn't go into the shop without parting with my dwindling savings, which had been budgeted in les dollars.  Yes, it was that wonderful.

Moreover, there was La Piscine on rue de Sevres, incredible discount designer clothing and shoes in an old indoor hotel pool (drained of water, but with sand and fake palm trees, fabulous mosaic of tiny original turquoise tiles, and, well, just so cool and so very French.) Rows and rows of marques degriffees arranged by color.  A few white wicker folding screens that served as dressing rooms. I dropped some major euros at La Piscine, but it was a key spot in helping me shed my New England wardrobe for a more Parisienne look.  I'm just a girl who can't say no... to a fashion bargain. 

Finally, in an extreme fiscal move, I forbade myself from entering either beloved shop.  It simply was too much of a hit on my wallet, you know, "saving" all that money on bargains.  But when I walked down rue de Sevres, I would often gaze longingly at the entrances, imagining the enticing discounts beckoning me from within.

Then, one day I walked by La Piscine , and *poof* -- it had disappeared.  Boarded up,  just like that. La Mosaique next door had its windows soaped over.  I mourned, I asked the nearby shopkeepers, but no one seemed to know the fate of the store.  I imagined with horror that some luxe developer was going to turn it into a luxe spa. The sign on the door invited customers to visit another "La Piscine" location.  But I knew that wherever the location was, it didn't have a swimming pool and palm trees. I wanted my bargain-basement-swimming-pool in my neighborhood, even if I wasn't buying!

Now.  Guess what? The La Piscine space on rue de Sevres has just been resurrected, but don't go looking for bargains.  It is none other than the brand-new chic left-bank flagship store for Hermès. 

I love Hermès.  The rive droite side of me loves Hermès, but it seems that there is less and less of a distinction between the right and left banks these days.  Hmm -- the 7e and 8e arrondissements are becoming the 7.5e arrondissement??

Coca Light

Here: a can of Diet Coke snatched from the fridge at the local convenience store or kebab take-out spot. 

Paris: a Coca Light savored at at the Nemrod on rue du Cherche Midi.  Not just oceans apart, worlds apart. Light years.  Universes.

 A cube or two of ice, a wedge of lemon, a long spoon.  Not to mention a completely different recipe for the beverage itself.  Not to mention the setting, people watching, and scanning le Pariscope for movies.

Oh yeah, not to mention price.

Worth it.  Every sip.

Who put the 'cozy' in Sarkozy?

France24 is a great news source for just about everything having to do with France, or world news from a French perspective.  Frankly, since I'm not in Paris I'm somewhat rabid about keeping up with French news, cruising the French dailies' websites, trying to keep au courant. 

Yet I fail.  Why, you ask?  Well, partially because when I start watching half-hour panel discussions such as last week's France 24 roundtable with top Anglophone journalists in Paris, I get... distracted.

I know, I know.  I should be following the substance of the discussion, and ... yet... in the mean time I am swept away by one persistent thought:  Why does Alison Smale of the IHT refer to the president as sar-koh-ZEE while Mark Deen of Bloomberg refers to him as sar-KOH-zee?  Didn't they referee the Proper Presidential Pronunciation before going on air? 

And secretly, I am delighted.  I love pronunciation battles, and this one is ripe.

On the one hand, of course, in French no syllables are accented.  So officially it's pronounced sar-koh-zee, equal emphasis on all syllables; but in reality it ends up sounding a bit more like sar-koh-ZEE. Americans, on the other hand,  need to find a syllable to stress in English, and somehow in popular US media, it's most often pronounced à l'américaine, sar-KOH-zee.

I still recall the mild sting of being reprimanded by my dear late friend Polly Platt for saying 'sar-KOH-zee' in mid-sentence.  "But, Polly," I pleaded, "I'm speaking in English right now.  When I'm talking in English, for example, I don't say 'Paree,' I say 'Pariss.' So in English I should say 'sar-KOH-zee,' as Americans do."

She didn't buy that defense, and told me it sounded ill-informed.  Since I deeply admired her, in all subsequent conversations with Polly I was on my sar-koh-ZEE best.

But otherwise, I was cozy with sar-KOH-zee.

Then. The ultimate revelation: French newscasters pronounce our president's name oh-ba-MAH when discoursing in French.



But of course they should.

You say 'to-MAY-toh.'  I say 'to-MAH-to.'

Let's not call the whole thing off.

Hallucinoscope at the Eiffel Tower

What, the Eiffel Tower isn't enough of an eyeful already?  It certainly blows me away every time I see it even from a distance, much less up close and personal.  Never fails to take my breath away.

Be that as it may, for those who might have a jaded, been-there-done-that feeling about la Tour Eiffel, there is a new way of experiencing its majesty between now and the end of November:  Hallucinoscope!

Hallucinoscope is a new virtual-reality experience, created by magicien Gerard Majax, available (to anyone over 6 years old) on the 1er etage of the Eiffel Tower.  Equipped with a low-tech helmet and a mirror, apparently you get the illusion that you are walking upside down on the beams and arches of the tower.

The hallucination-moment is free -- but of course you have to pay the 20€ to get to the first level.

Methinks I'll stick with the view from the Trocadero.

The Winter Hour

This weekend -- Sunday, to be precise -- is when France changes its clocks for the transition from what the US calls Daylight Saving.  In other words, France will "fall back" -- move the clocks back one hour -- on Saturday night.  Passage a l'heure d'hiver, it is called. 

In France, most of the population is on vacances de la Toussaint. Time to be away on school holiday, or to visit the cemeteries with chrysanthemums for the graves of the departed.

In the States this weekend, focus is on Hallowe'en and the World Series. We'll move our clocks back next week, on November 7.

So for this week, as every year, the time difference between France and the US East Coast will be 5 hours instead of the usual 6.  Just to keep us all on our toes!

Photo:  Le defenseur du temps, via Flickr.

The Circus at Ile Seguin

Ile Seguin has always been a source of fascination to me. Located in the Seine next to Paris, just off of Boulogne-Billancourt, it was known for years as the location of the iconic Renault factory.

Then the factory was demolished, and there was talk of Francois Pinault establishing a museum there (fell through) then of relocating the American University of Paris to part of the island, to consolidate its campus, with urban housing. Then, in an about-face, it seemed decided that it would become a cultural center.

Latest news is that the Cirque du Soleil will make its home on the island, along with a 15-hall Pathé multiplex cinema.

Such a dynamic and prime location. Can't wait to see what finally unfolds.

Photo credit: Pierre Giron Photographies.

Protests in France

1. Certainly no one has missed news of the current strikes and protests in France over pension reform.  Make no mistake about it -- the massive protests are real.  In a few locations, cars have been overturned.  One lycée torched, and burned to the ground.  All this makes for tremendous and powerful headline news.

And yet.  Life goes on.  It is a major upheaval, and travelers' plans cannot be 100% certain. The disruption of daily life certainly can't be underestimated. But it is unclear to me whether any of the limited violent activity at the schools originates with the students or with others who are simply hell-bent on joining in any protests:  les casseurs.

One thing is for sure.  Business people -- heck, everyday people -- are being inconvenienced. But, honestly, police barricades are a norm of Paris life, for whatever reason.  So, c'mon, folks:  this ain't French Armageddon. 

In Paris, the RATP forecasts normal service.  The SNCF and the airports have traffic reduced by about 25%. There are potential gasoline shortages, etc.  Annoyance, yes.  Inconvenience,  yes.  Life goes on anyway,  yes.

2.  Concerned about some alarming news reports yesterday, I called my daughter, who is working as a language assistant in a lycée in Provence.  "How's it going?" I asked, unnerved.  No big news -- she mostly detailed her efforts to get internet service at her shared apartment inside the lycée. Bureaucracy and telecommunications woes. The regular.  "But -- how about the protests?" I pressed.

"Yeah, there were some blockades last week -- they blocked the entrance to the school with dumpsters.  And it's been weird, with I-don't-know-who setting off Molotov cocktails sometimes. Bizarre. Oh gawd, there's one exploding now.  Well, Mom, I gotta run -- have to make a presentation for my class."

To me, this says it all.  Protests are happening. Noise is happening. Noise. Sure, things aren't as smooth as might be hoped, but life goes on. Work goes on.  Classes to attend.  Dinners to prepare.  Vernissages, movies, activities to enjoy.  Everyone makes do.  But that angle doesn't make headline news, does it?


3.  This all reminded me of my arrival in Paris in 2006.  There were protests then, too.  This blog was only a twinkle in my eye at the time, but here is the missive I wrote about those supposed "riots" which led me to create this here blog:

April 1, 2006-- Last night I was dining at the Cafe de la Paix (how ironic), when suddenly  dozens of police squads showed up, flashing blue lights, guys with helmets and plastic shields.  No, they weren't there to take me away(!), but instead to barricade the boulevard des Capucines so that the soon-to-be arriving protesters could march down the street.  It was about 10:30 or 11 pm, so fortunately we were through dining.  Because of the manif (protest), my dinner companion was not able to take a cab back to Ile St.  Louis, and so -- horrors!-- had to take the metro.

The gendarmes wouldn't let me enter the street there at place de l'Opera (silly -- so I just walked around the corner and got in that way).  And then I strolled home happily down the center of a very quiet boulevard with no traffic.)

Then I got back to my cozy pied a terre and kicked off my high heels.  About five minutes later I heard the approaching crowds chanting and shouting.  Peering out my kitchen window, I saw the throngs marching down boulevard de la Madeleine, filling a whole city block or two (or more?) streaming past my front door at place de la Madeleine.  The feeling was one of momentum and energy and not at all of anger or fear. They were waving banners and shouting as they headed around the corner to the Elysee Palace.  I would have gone down to the street to watch, but actually had a better view from my lofty perch. Mostly I didn't budge from the fear that, if I left my 7th floor apartment, by the time I got to street level the action might have all passed me by.  It felt like being part of a Victor Hugo script.  Huge adrenaline rush!

(Anway, the most angry mob of Parisians I've seen all week was the thousands of cars backed up at place de la Madeleine at rush hour on Wednesday... because the cops blocked the roads for -- ta-dah! -- Condoleeza Rice to get to the Elysee Palace for her nanosecond visit with Chirac.  You've never heard such klaxons, such muttering later in the supermarches ("Yeah, I hear she even traveled from the airport in an American car..." "I bet it was 'super-blindee' [armored vehicle] -- she'll need it after making everyone so pissed...")
I bet somehow the American press didn't pick up on THAT little Parisian police barricade!)

I remember distinctly at the time receiving worried emails from family and friends asking if I was all right, if I was safe. The media was reporting calamitous activity!   I couldn't afford to actually laugh at their worries, but tried nevertheless to reassure them that life in France did not equal what they saw or read in the news.

4. Not currently in France, I don't have eyewitness observations about the reform protests and their ramifications.  But I do check my Facebook page, check status of my friends in France, skype with them. Most are at max griping about transportation, either slow-downs in public transport, lines at the gas station, or worries about being able to leave on vacation as scheduled.  Hmmm, not exactly what I would call The End of Life as We Know It.    


School vacations for la Toussaint in France begin this Friday.  I'm waiting to see how that affects the protest activity.

France-Shaped Cheese Board

Why didn't I think of this?  I spotted one of these France-shaped cheese boards in the museum shop yesterday.  Naturally it's by Laguiole, one of my favorite French cutlery companies.  (Opinel being the only other French cutlery company I know off hand.  Are there others?)  Not only is it shaped like la Belle France, but it also has the names of some of the more famous cheeses carved in their respective regions on the map.

Laguiole is sooo very French, as I discovered at home. 

But did you know that the company also sells champagne sabers? Yours for only 290 euros.  Now there's a niche market.

If you're not the saber-rattling type, how about a Johnny Hallyday knife?

Never too soon to start holiday shopping!

'French in Action' - 25 years later

Boule-dogue, boule-dogue, waouh, waouh, waouh!?

I've always known that Yale has some great reunions. Been to one or two myself, and had a rollicking good time.

But here's the Yale reunion to beat all reunions, in my book: The 25th Anniversary of "French in Action", slated for October 30-31 in New Haven.

Either you know and remember all about French in Action, or it doesn't ring a bell. A revered French-language program aired on PBS and in classrooms across America, its language and cultural sequences are seared in the minds of devotees ...and less-than devotees, also, I dare say. I know students of the show who can still recite entire episodes.

Pierre Capretz will be on hand for the reunion, as will be the lovely Mireille. I was and am a big fan, and wish I could be there for the shindig!

Just remember, time doesn't stand still.

But for those who remember the antics of Robert and Mireille, the Man in Black, and Pierre Capretz giving the language lesson, you can join the reunion and rekindle all those fond memories.

Update: see photos of the reunion here.

Salon de Provence!

Wow. Some people have all the luck, and get to spend a year in Provence.

One such person is my darling daughter.  Yes, at the end of September the lucky college grad is heading off to lovely Salon-de-Provence to be an English teaching assistant. 

Not that I am living vicariously or anything.  Qui, moi?

So, heck, what good is a francophile blogger maman if she can't post a notice?:

Lodging needed!

If you know of anyone in Salon-de-Provence with a chambre de bonne to rent, seeking a roommate, or other accommodation possibilities at grad student rates from October to May, please contact me asap at pollyvousfrancais [at] yahoo. 

Pollyvous et famille will be eternally grateful!