Paris Journal, Postscript

Thursday 7/13

Hard to believe we've been back for almost two weeks already. I was itching to get home and to sleep in my own bed by the time we got on the plane, and really for the last few days of the trip, and so was Nicholas (though the same wasn't quite true for Suzanne, who wept on our last night). But perhaps inevitably, the return has been a bit of a letdown in some ways. Work, bills, home repairs, lawn maintenance--it was all still here waiting for us, and though Branford is a nice little town it can't quite match the glories of Paris. Of course we do have the beach, the water, the breezes, and all the comforts of home--but it doesn't help that it's been really hot, the breezes have been scarce, and the jellyfish have come in about six weeks early this year, making it impossible to swim at our neighborhood beach.

Already we have talked about whether we can swing Paris again next year--but that remains to be seen. In the meantime I'm hoping that what Hemingway says will prove true, that Paris will turn out to be "a moveable feast." What he actually writes, in a passage from a letter to a friend that became the epigraph to his book, is this:

If you are lucky enough to have lived
in Paris as a young man, then wherever you
go for the rest of your life, it stays with
you, for Paris is a moveable feast.

I will pass over the delicate question of whether we were "young" during our time there, observing only that youth is relative. And I'll assume you don't have to be a man to get the benefit. The little matter of whether a stay of five weeks constitutes "living in Paris" is also a bit tricky (certainly Hemingway was in residence a lot longer), but I like to think we were there long enough to pick up at least a bit of the real flavor of things.

Still, I'm left wondering what exactly Hemingway means when he calls Paris a moveable feast that stays with you the rest of your life, and what exactly, if anything, the concept might mean for us. Hemingway's memories of living in Paris are deeply bound up with being poor and happy and deeply in love with his first wife, and with all the good writing he got done there and his coming of age as an artist--and all those things are very personal and specific to the unfolding of his particular life. Some of the best parts of the book (and ones that especially resonated for me) are about the act of writing, the discipline it takes and the wild ups and downs of the writing life. At one point (I can't find the passage now) he says, roughly, that Paris is the city best "organized" (that's a definite quote) for living as a writer. And though we inhabited a different Paris than Hemingway way did, and though I can hardly call myself a writer in same sense that he was one, I can still understand what he meant by this. In Paris the appreciation for things aesthetic runs deep. The city itself is beautiful and alive, and the people there care deeply about food and wine and art and books. When I was there, the act of writing felt natural, like breathing, and I did a helluva lot of it. That's been hard to sustain since I got back. But having experienced that way of living, and having fallen under its spell, I'm hoping that I can continue to draw on this experience, this knowledge, for sustenance, and that I can carry forward some of the inspiration I experienced in Paris into my life here. I hope that this will be true for all three of us, each in our own way but also together as a family. That's the moveable feast I'd like us to be able to continue to savor.

Paris Journal, Part 8

Thursday 6/26

Today we took a long walking tour of Pigalle (where it proved easier than expected to keep Nicholas from noticing the racy stuff) and Montmartre, led by a group of Suzanne's students, who did a nice job of point out the notable sites. We walked by the sex shops and strip clubs in Pigalle, of course, but also saw: the Place Andre Breton and the building housing Breton's old apartment; the Moulin Rouge; an avant-garde building designed by Alfred Loos for Tristan Tzara; Salvador Dali's old apartment, the Lapin Agile, and the Bateau-Lavoir (Picasso painted the "Third Rose" portrait of Gertrude Stein here, and also Les Damoiselles d'Avignon. Montmartre is the highest point of elevation in Paris, and some of the streets are San Francisco-steep. It was another hot day, but the air was noticeably cooler and fresher here. The combination of hilly terrain, narrow streets and picturesque old buildings meant that we got our exercise and some lovely views at the same time.

We ended up at Sacre Coeur, which shines whitely at the top of the hill. This church was the only one we've been in so far that asks for silence inside and prohibits photographs, though they still have a gift shop selling religious icons, and a vending machine for Sacre Coeur medallions (Nicholas got one for his collection). Outside, on the steps overlooking the rest of the city, was gathered a mob of tourists, a couple of musicians playing sacred music for spare change, and a few beggars asking for alms. As we left we were happy to discover the funicular, which allows you to avoid the long set of steps down the hill, and then to come across a very lovely and elaborate old carousel, on which the three of us took a ride. We decided we needed to stop for something to eat on the way home, so we stopped for a relatively simple dinner at Parnasse 138. I had a very good fish soup as an appetizer, and Nicholas had his first grapple with an appropriately cheesy bowl of French onion soup. In a first for the trip, Suzanne and I skipped dessert even though it was included in the "formule." Nicholas, on the other hand, decided that he did want to have some ice cream.

Friday 6/27

Slow day with all of us tired from the last three days of big expeditions. I was due for some time off from daddy duty, so I went to the Jardin du Luxembourg for some reading and reading.. There was an excellent youth orchestra in the park playing Hello Dolly, the theme from Jaws, It's a Wonderful World, the Star Wars bar theme, and other crowd-pleasers. Suzanne and Nicholas went back to the American library for a new Hardy boys mystery (The Mystery of the Flying Express), getting another choice view of the Eiffel Tower in the process.


Saturday 6/28

There was an extremely large, loud, and raucous Gay Pride parade today that started by late morning not far away (it was loud even in our apartment) and snaked through the city for a good six or seven hours. Since the normal bus from Glaciere wasn't running, we discovered, happily, that we could walk without too much difficulty to the Jardin du Luxembourg, and in fact we even detoured a bit to take in the Pantheon, though we decided not to pay the entrance fee to go in. Once we got the Jardin the big treat was that we finally got a boat for Nicholas to sail in the central pond! He had a blast running around for a solid hour with all the other kids, the main task being to shove one's boat off from the side of the pond with a long wooden stick whenever it nears shore. Each child notes the number of his or her bateau and then eagerly follows its course as it tacks hither and thither. A moment of suspense comes if one's boat is sucked into the vortex around central fountain, but somehow all the boats manage to break free in the end. Whenever a French child's boat approaches the shore and is in need of a shove, one is likely to hear the excited cry "Il arrive! Il arrive!"

After the boating, we took Nicholas to the very cool playground I had scouted out on a previous visit. It was closed when he and I came to the Jardin for the first time but since then I had noticed that it seemed to be open for the season. It has great climbing structures, with tunnels and rope ladders and swinging bridges and everything one could want, and Nicholas checked out most of what it had to offer. All in all, it was a full afternoon of Luxembourg fun.

For dinner, we finally went to Bar a Huitres for the oysters I've been anticipating. I ordered the house specialty, a quite large platter of mostly raw seafood served on a bed of ice. Eating it was an invigorating and challenging experience even for a veteran Maryland-born crab-eater. In addition to the oysters (which were very good), the platter came with one small blue crab, a large spider crab, clams, mussels (discovered I don't really like these raw), shrimp (steamed), whelks, periwinkles, and some very tiny prawns. I skipped the periwinkles and the tiny prawns, since these were a lot of effort without much pay-off, but enjoyed all the rest, and was pleased to find out that I like whelks quite a lot. The seafood was served with three condiments in small pots--one was mayo, one was a very tasty and somewhat spicy creamy sauce, and one was almost like a vinegar dressing. I found myself really missing the cocktail sauce (the kind with lots of horse radish) for the oysters.

Sunday 6/29

Today we took a long, sweaty trek to and around and through the Chateau Versailles and its grounds. Alas, the Chateau itself was a bit of a bust for us--it was simply too mobbed with tourists (we waited in a long line just to get in, even though we bought our tickets in advance) and we didn't enjoy shuffling along with the crowd looking at a lot of not particularly interesting paintings of French kings and queens. To be sure, the whole affair was notably lavish and indisputably shiny, but it left me cold, or rather, hot and sweaty and irritable. We didn't really begin to enjoy ourselves until we got out to the grounds, and even then we still faced the problem that there were too many tourists and too few bathrooms and places to get refreshments (long lines for both). Things picked up by 3:30 when Les Grands Eaux Musicals began. This is when they begin piping classical music through an extensive speaker system while also turning on all the many fountains, which feature impressive statues of galloping horses, leaping dolphins, cavorting gods and goddesses, and so on. All of this was very pleasant, and the day began to cool, with some help from the misting fountains. We watched a couple of Italian youths using bread crumbs as bait and trying, just for fun, to catch some very big fish (carp?) in the central pond with their hands, and were eventually refreshed enough to enjoy all the varied and gorgeous flowers. I used my Elph to shoot a short video of Suzanne and Nicholas dancing that captured some of the best and lightest spirit of the day. And now when I read all those references to Versailles in the history books I will know whereof they speak.

Monday 6/30

Watched Nicholas in the morning while Suzanne prepped for teaching. He has filled a couple of notebooks with drawings and writings since we've been here, and is quite proud of this fact, and he managed a couple of pretty elaborate multi-colored dragons just this morning (the other day I got him a book on all the different types of dragons and how to draw them, and this has provided some inspiration, though he still has his own preferred style). This morning as he was sketching he said, "Dad, won't we be famous when we get back?" and when I asked him why he said "Because of all of these great drawings!" I said yes, we probably would be famous. Nicholas plans to set up our own "museum" in the house when we get back.

In the afternoon, I did some reading and writing interspersed with a the usual copious amount of walking. Today's walk nicely filled in a few gaps in my mental map of the surrounding area. First I took the green line to the Edgar Quinet stop and walked around the interesting cafe-filled area we noticed the other evening on our way to La Cagouille. Then I cut up to Boulevard Montparnasse and walked east, and before very long I hit the familiar cafes (Le Dome, Le Select, and La Coupole) in the area of Montparnasse that we have been in the habit of reaching by taking the Metro to the Vavin stop. I kept going further east until I hit Hemingway's old hangout the Closerie de Lilas. They have a collage rendering of Hem's face (both old and young) on the menu, but the place still has a solidly authentic French feel, with its cloistered patio protecting one from the crowded boulevard, and some quite impressive woodwork and tiling in the dark interior (including some very small tiles that look to be made of tiny sheets of beaten gold suspended in glass). I had a Pernod (always wanted to try one of those) and did a bit of writing. There were only a few other patrons at this time of the afternoon and it was a nice calm place to sit and work for a while.

On the way home I continued east on the Boulevard Montparnasse until it turns into Boulevard Port Royal. At this point, I could have cut south and ended up at Denfert Rochereau if I had wished, but instead I headed north (on Avenue de L'Observatoire) toward Jardin du Luxembourg, discovering that there is a separate little park extending like a slim southern arm from the Luxembourg. It's called Jardin Marco Polo and features a great fountain with galloping horses and turtles spouting water from their mouths, more or less in the Versailles mode. There were a few kids in swimsuits playing in the fountain, and as I continued north I saw that this is one of those places where you can actually lie or sit or play on the grass. Lots of people were stretched out either sunning themselves or enjoying the cool shade. It was a lively scene, and quite close to our apartment if one were to walk there directly.

Wednesday 7/2

Well, Nicholas has been so good this trip--gamely touring museums, walking miles at a time without complaint, sitting through long French dinners until the glace finally arrives, etc.--that we've decided to go to Paris Disney on Friday. Today I went to the big mall at Place d' Italie because it has an FNAC store (selling computers, dvds, books, music, etc.) from which you can pick up advance Disney tickets (crazily enough, you can not buy advance tickets from the Disney phone-order line if it's less than five days in advance, though they neglected to tell us this when we called for information a week ago).

Only later at dinner, talking to Suzanne's students, did we realize that all the attractions will be in French! Somehow the whole "Disney" thing seems so American that we just hadn't thought about it. Guess we'll find out how it goes. After getting the tickets, I took the Metro to the Bastille stop, and ended up doing quite a bit of walking in the rain as I wended my way to the Marais for one last meander. I went to our favorite patisserie from our previous trip, on Rue Vielle du Temple, just up the street from our old hotel, for a mille-feuille (what we call a Napoleon). I hadn't had one of these the whole trip, and it's getting down to now-or-never time (it was delicious). I also made a quick tour of the Musee Victor Hugo as I cut through the Place des Vosges. They've preserved much of the furniture from his lavish apartment--lots of heavy and ornate dark wood, and a clear taste for both Chinoiserie and the Gothic style. But the most impressive thing of all had to be the views out the large windows opening onto the Place des Vosges. It struck me as a pretty nice place to get some writing done.

Nicholas and Suzanne also had some errands to do during the afternoon, and then I surprised them at the little Notre Dame park (where I knew they were eventually headed). We went to Shakespeare and Company to pick up a book for Nicholas (we got The Indian in the Cupboard) for after we return our American library loaners, and particularly for the plane ride home.

From there it was on to Le Bistrot des Pingouins for the last class dinner. It's been a really great class (only one session left), and the students, who have lots of shared Paris experiences at this point, seem to have become a pretty close-knit group. Toward the end of dinner, Nicholas had his much-anticipated Tic-Tac-To championship match with Tanya--it was a rousing spectacle ending in a final score of 11 wins each, 10 draws (at this point I had to take Nicholas home for bedtime). Our favorite neighborhood bistrot didn't let us down--I think everyone enjoyed the good food (boy these kids put away a lot of beef!) and the relaxed but lively atmosphere.

Thursday 7/3

Suzanne and Nicholas are off to the very last class tour, visiting some of the famous resting places in the Cimetiere de Pere La-Chaise. It's an impressive list--the Lizard King (Jim Morrison), of course, but also Oscar Wilde, Richard Wright, Sara Bernhardt, Colette, Edith Piaf, Chopin, Moliere, Proust, and many others.

I decided to stay home to catch up on the journal and get some other writing done. We go to Disney tomorrow, and fly out Sunday morning, so this will probably be the last Paris post! Nicholas says we're going to have a celebration with all his animals when we get home.

The word count for the journal has topped 12,000. Hope it's been fun to follow along...

Paris Journal, Part 7

Sunday 6/22

Sunday is the biggest day for the fresh market, with the most goodies, so I brought home a feast fit for a king for lunch: warm baguettes, goat cheese, shrimp, tomatoes , cherries, and strawberries. I took Nicholas so Suzanne could work on grading her first batch of papers, then I headed off for some reading and writing in the Jardin d' Observatoire. It was quite hot again, so I sought as much shade as I could. The apartment was pretty hot too, and we began to wonder what it would be like here later in the summer. Late in the afternoon, Suzanne and Nicholas pioneered the use of the #21 bus (much more pleasant than the Metro on a hot day), catching it at Glaciere and riding up to the Jardin du Luxembourg. They caught a really good and sort of zany New Orleans-style brass band playing just outside the park--with male band members wearing dresses, crazy wigs, etc.

Monday 6/23

More paper-grading. A little cooler. Jardin du Luxembourg for reading and writing and les moules again for me. Got whooped by one of the old chess guys in the park, in a game of 5-minute blitz.

Had our first conversation about home and the things we miss, and how we'll be going back in less than two weeks. Nicholas said not sadly but with a smile, "I love my home," and talked about looking forward to seeing all his "animals," a category that I think probably encompasses both our two cats, Missy and Tazzie, and all his stuffed animals (except Snow Leopard and Wolfie, who are here with us).

Tuesday 6/24

Quite hot today, and we ended up making a long, sweaty expedition down the Champs Elysees and to the Arc de Triomphe. Of course, both the view of the arch (apparently the largest in the world) and the view from it are pretty fantastic, and it was fun to meander along the famous avenue. For me that stroll was particularly resonant because I associate it with Proust and Swann's Way, but it was too hot and Nicholas was too tired for us to try to make sure we located the Allee Marcel Proust, which is somewhere in the Jardin des Champs-Elysees. I would have liked to spend a little time sitting on a bench imagining the young Proust and the childhood crush who became Gilberte in the book frolicking in the garden. But since Proust wrote most of his book sitting in bed in a cork-lined room, I guess I don't have to go there to do the imagining.

Even though we avoided all the stairs by taking the elevator up and down the Arc, we were pretty beat by the end. We could only manage to stagger to the first cafe we hit after we emerged from the underground tunnel that gets you back and forth across the heavily trafficked circle that makes an island of the Arch and its immediate surround. It was an Italian joint so we got an early dinner of pizza and spaghetti (Nicholas is always happy to see this on a menu) while we sat on the patio, amid the roar of Champs Elysees traffic and with the Arc looming close by.

Wednesday 6/25

Another big expedition with Suzanne's class, this time to the Centre Pompidou (which we missed on our last visit). I can see how it must have been absolutely shocking when this massive modern structure, all bristling pipes and bright colors, was erected in the midst of the Beaubourg neighborhood, with its quaint and picturesque buildings. The juxtaposition is still striking, but the Centre has settled in as an institution now, drawing more visitors than the Louvre for its exhibits of modern and contemporary works. The views of the city that one can get through the giant glass-walled windows of the terraces (one can't actually go out on these, unfortunately) are nothing short of astounding, and I took some "artistic" shots that I think should come out pretty well (even with digital, one is never entirely sure how the image on the little screen will translate once its transferred and enlarged). And of course I found much to like in the paintings too, especially a room full of Matisses that I hadn't been familiar with, and also Robert Delaunay's brightly colored abstractions--among many, many other works. One can never take in everything that one would like, but I especially regret not going to see Brancusi's Atelier (studio) which has been preserved in a separate building on the museum's plaza.

Nicholas was well rested after a big sleep, and he bowled us over once again with his museum-going capacity, outlasting both Suzanne and me as he also had at the Louvre. After we were finished, we grabbed a couple of crepes and some ice cream and sat refreshing ourselves on the museum plaza, which is a scene in itself, with tourists from all over the world gathered in little clumps dotted across its expanse. At 7 o'clock, we met up again with Suzanne's students (Nicholas had enjoyed running into parts of "the group" as we perused the art) for dinner at Georges, the splashy, chic, and fairly expensive restaurant on the top floor of the restaurant. The entire, very large space is surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass walls, and there are odd little curvy alcoves, painted bright pink, that make you feel as if you're inside a giant shell. We weren't seated in one of these, but in the central space at a long table running along the south-facing window/wall. Nicholas's seat was directly in line with a straight-on view of Notre Dame, which looked remarkably close. As we ate our food, drank our wine, and talked about our various Paris experiences, the day softened into twilight, the panorama of the city laying open before us as if it might just be ours to possess.

Paris Journal, Part 6

6/19 Thursday

Nicholas took the postponed "Hemingway walking tour" with Suzanne and her students, and also went with them to the Picasso museum ("really good," he told me), and then I met up with everyone--that is, Suzanne and Nicholas and Suzanne's class and Scott and Sue--at Le Colimacon for dinner. We were up on the second floor, just a few paces away from the door to the kitchen (the chef wished us a hearty "Bon Appetit!"), the food and wine was good, and the atmosphere was comfortable. Then, too, the place has special meaning for Suzanne and me, since it was our favorite haunt on our previous trip. It was pleasing to make use of it for this large rendezvous and to have the evening work out so well. We said our farewells to Scott and Sue (who seem to have enjoyed Paris very much), since they are leaving Saturday morning, and Suzanne is off to Giverny tomorrow. Nicholas and I left before the rest of the group and wended our way across the Seine and through the little park by Notre Dame we have come to like so much and across the Seine again to the St. Michel metro stop, then from there to Denfert Rochereau and the walk home. It was still 10 by the time Nicholas was in bed, even though we had started dinner at 6:30--so, rather late again, but we had a lovely evening walk.

6/20 Friday

Suzanne and her class had their big day-long expedition to Giverny (leaving early in the morning and not returning until 8pm) to wander around Monet's old stamping ground, taking in the house with its large collection of Japanese prints and the extensive gardens (including, of course, water lilies). That meant a big day for Nicholas and me. We hung out in the morning watching some of Toy Story 2 (which is even better than the first one) and doing some drawing, then we went up to Zen Sushi for lunch, took a meander through the neighborhood, and wound up at Parc Montsouris, which I had not been to before, though Nicholas had checked it out with Suzanne and Julia. It's a really wonderful and rather large park, quite near Cite Universitaire, where Suzanne is teaching. It has a duck pond, a public bathroom (not as common as one would like), excellent climbing structures, great "tree forts," a waterfall and stream, and a small cafe serving glace, crepes, and the like. We played on just about everything, and I even got Nicholas to entertain himself for a brief stint so I could sit on a bench with my electronic Larousse attempting to read a couple of pages of Simenon. Things got really exciting by about 5 o'clock, when we had our second go at the climbing structures, because the playground was suddenly flooded with kids accompanied by parents who must have just gotten off work. Even without knowing anyone or speaking any French Nicholas was able to participate joyfully in the general hubbub of kids running around doing the stuff kids do.

The battery went dead on the camera while we were at the park, and I didn't have the spare with me, so I suggested to Nicholas that we take "mental pictures." He really got into it, developing a technique where he would look at the scene, snap his picture, then turn his head to the side, in order, he told me, to make sure he still had the image in his mind. After a while, he told me that he was also "pasting" things into his pictures. When I asked how this worked, he said, "Oh, like, if I take a picture of a scene that doesn't have Daddy in it and I want you in it I can just paste you in." He also liked the idea that your mental pictures are your own private secret that no one else could see. When I said, "But what if you want to show your picture to someone else?" he decided that you could draw a copy of it if you wanted to. By the time we walked home we were taking mental movies.

6/21 Saturday

Suzanne and I had hoped for a couple of nights out on our own while we're here, but it looks like it may come to down to just this one, since Julia is leaving next week and has told us that she'll be too busy to do any more sitting. For tonight's dinner, we chose Millesime 62, singled out by Pudlo for special praise among the restaurants of the 14th.
It's on the Place De Catalogne, which is a large square with monumental Romanesque buildings and a central fountain (a sort of incline plane topped with a thin sheet of flowing water), all designed by a fellow named Boffil. It was interesting to check out a new part of town, and the square certainly had a different look than what we have become used to it--but we weren't all that taken with the design as we made our way to the restaurant through the heat and humidity that had been making us droop for much of the day. It looked better, though, once we had eaten and the evening had cooled down a little, especially since the Eiffel Tower popped into the view down one of the long avenues radiating from the square--we somehow hadn't had the right angle to see it during our approach to the restaurant earlier.

Anyway, we really liked the restaurant, which also had a more contemporary feel than most of the places we've gone so far. Having done a little advance research on the web, we were able to find our way through the French menu with no problems (event though the waitress did offer to answer in English any questions we might have). We had two appetizers; one was a tasty little cold crab and avocado number, but the clear winner was the "croustillant," which was flaky pastry formed into a kind of little pouch, closed with a twist. When you broke it open, it was filled with warm goat cheese. For the main course, I had very good sea bass and Suzanne had the lamb (not something we usually eat, but it was certainly tender and delicious). For dessert, we split the creme brulee epice, that is "creme brulee with spices," the spices--and the fact that it was served cold--giving a new twist to a traditional dessert. We both agreed that we preferred the old style, but it was interesting to try the new.

One of the things that we have missed the most, as compared to our previous trip (when we were a duo rather than a trio) is the leisurely, late, after-dinner stroll along the Seine, with the evening just fading to twilight around 10--so we decided that this was something we would try to do this evening. Already on the way to the restaurant, though, we had begun to realize that this might not work out because this Saturday turned out to be the day of the Fete de la Musique, a street festival taking place in locations all over the city. As it turned out, most of the music was heavily amplified and not particularly great rock and roll, and by night-time the crowds were tremendous. We packed into the sweltering Metro along with the rest of the masses, and emerged into a slowly drifting throng of people lining the quais all long the Seine and also the bridges crossing the river. The quiet, romantic stroll was not to be. But we ended up agreeing that the sheer size and energy of the festival--the spectacle of all these people rocking out in the shadow of Paris's huge, ancient, and classically styled public buildings--made it something to see. And something to hear too, of course, though we stayed as far away from the amplifiers as we could, and would have preferred to come across a small jazz or classical ensemble tucked into some less densely populated nook somewhere. That didn't happen, and, in fact, the bruit was at one point following us, since some student types were making their way through the crowd with large speakers (emitting some very loud and strange noises) strapped to their backs.