Paris Journal 2010 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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We were stunned to see a little blurb in Le Parisien the other day, announcing an American Fourth of July celebration. We don’t remember ever experiencing such a thing in the past. Most people here don’t even think about the Fourth of July at all. The celebration was to be in none other than the 15th arrondissement, our home away from home. It was sponsored by the council of the Emeriau/Zola neighborhood – “our” neighborhood – in partnership with the French Federation for American Football. This year the Fourth fell conveniently on a Sunday, so we made our way over to the 15th from the 6th not by the most direct route, but by the most scenic: the left bank of the Seine. On Sundays, the highway there is closed to cars and open to pedestrians, cyclists, and rollerbladers. We continued all the way to the far end of the Allée des Cygnes, that island in the Seine that stretches from the Pont de Bir-Hakeim to rue Linois. At that Linois end of the island, by the Pont de Grenelle, stands a replica of the statue of Liberty. As we approached the Liberty end, we could hear a band playing country and rock snippets. They were tuning up and checking the sound system at the base of the statue, and the area around the front of the statue which would normally be accessible to camera-wielding tourists was fenced off. Near the band were some tables in little booth-tents where information was going to be distributed by the 15th’s town hall. As noted on the poster at right, citizens at the event would have their opportunity to give the local officials their ideas for improvements to the Ile aux Cygnes (another name for the Allée des Cygnes). This is a very good idea, and the concept of citizens participating in the process is indeed very democratic and American, although I’m not sure the local officials were thinking of that. Attendees would also have the opportunity to have “American snacks”: namely donuts, cheesecake, and Dr. Pepper. Note that we two Americans do not eat donuts or cheesecake, and we especially never drink Dr. Pepper. This notion of these three items being typical American snacks seems preposterous to us. A drawing was to be held to give away round-trip airplane tickets to New York and Miami. We approve of this “drawing” as a typical American thing to do. American football-related games were to be available for the public, and there would be demonstrations of the sport as well. There were even to be cheerleading demonstrations by real pom-pom girls forming human pyramids and dancing about. Very American indeed. The band we saw was named “The Partners,” but in spite of the name, they were not Americans; they were French musicians performing American music. We would have come back later to hear the Millesim Big Band, but we had to see the day’s stage of the Tour de France on TV, and then we had to do something for our landlord in the 15th. After inspecting the setting up of the tiny little festival, we walked down rue Linois to the Place Charles Michels where we knew a “parade” would be forming. We didn’t expect much of this parade, so we were not disappointed. We selected the terrace of the Italian café on the Place to enjoy a light lunch and watch the goings on. (Il Teatro, 3 Place Charles Michels, Tel. 01 45 78 28 08.) Only locals were eating there. It was good to be away from the hoards of American-English speaking tourists in the 6th. The little community band formed on the Place right in front of the café terrace where we sat. They performed a few pieces. It is always amusing to hear a little brass concert band perform rock and roll music, but that’s what they did. The trumpets were terrible but the rest of the band was okay. The members consisted of young people and old people as well as some in between – a real community band. I wonder if this was going to be what was billed as the Millesim Big Band? If so, we didn’t miss too much. But this was entertainment for our long, leisurely lunch. Tom just had ham and melon, but I ordered a delightful, light salad of mixed greens, oranges, walnuts, apples, pineapple, raisins, ham bits, and oil & vinegar on the side. Afterwards, we wandered down the avenue Emile Zola to the apartment that we rent in the 15th. It was hot and stuffy. We opened a few windows and then settled in to watch a couple hours of the Tour de France. This almost always relaxes us so completely that we fall asleep for part of the time. That we did. After waking ourselves following the day’s stage of the Tour, I set about finding information for the landlord’s American taxes. It was a brain deadening task, and I struggled mightily with an AZERTY keyboard that was showing signs of schizophrenia – sometimes behaving like an AZERTY, and sometimes behaving like a QWERTY. When I finished sending the email via the ancient Dell computer to the landlord, I felt like I’d taken one of those long tests in which one fills in tiny circles on a long form that would be read by a machine. I felt like I’d just taken the SAT, ACT, and an IQ test. After the exam, we treated ourselves to a nice dinner at Le Tipaza, the friendly North African restaurant around the corner on avenue Emile Zola. The night before, on Saturday, we ate at the New Aqib Indian restaurant on rue Monsieur le Prince in the 6th. It was quite good. Now it might seem weird that we just recently arrived in Paris and already we are eating at ethnic restaurants. But we figure that since we left Columbus and its wealth of ethnic restaurants entirely in 2003, and we now live in the swamp where there are no ethnic restaurants, we can eat at any kind of restaurant we want while in Paris. This is our annual three months of real city life, after all. New Aqib is very good, but no Indian restaurant anywhere seems to quite measure up to the Indian Oven in downtown Columbus. If you’re ever there, try it. At least I hope the Indian Oven is still that good. It has been years since we’ve dined there. The web site looks good anyway. Back to that dinner at Le Tipaza – I ordered the Chateaubriand in Roquefort sauce, with French fries. Believe it or not, I’ve lost a kilo since we arrived in Paris, I’m nine or ten pounds lighter than I was last Fall – and I’m not even trying to lose weight. I always exercise faithfully, so there has been no explanation for this loss other than the fact that I discovered recently that I’m gluten intolerant. I eat almost no bread at all anymore. So don’t even think about asking me about French bakeries, okay? Tom ordered the filet of beef, which we determined to be the exact same cut as what was called the Chateaubriand. His came with a Béarnaise sauce, and he had a nice batch of sautéed mushrooms with the steak. While the steaks were not as tender as American beef, they were both very tasty. And the fries and mushrooms were piping hot and perfectly prepared. After paying “l’addition,” we slipped down into the metro to go home to the apartment in the 6th. Sometime this week, we will move over to the 15th because other people will be staying in the apartment in the 6th. Sign
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Monday, July 5, 2010
This
event was really for the residents of the 15th arrondissement, not
for Americans. And that’s fine. We were happy to provide a holiday for them
to celebrate on a fine, sunny, Sunday afternoon in the summertime.
Our
lunch on the Places Charles Michels.
A
little community band played a few tunes on the Place Charles Michels before
parading up to the Allée des Cygnes for the American Fourth of July
“festival.”
You
never know what you’ll see in Paris.
We encountered these pirates near the Saint-Germain-des-Pres church as
we began our very long walk yesterday.
The
entrance to the Beaux Arts school with cat graffiti.
Looking
at the RER train bridge as we sat on a park bench on the Allée des Cygnes in
the middle of the Seine.
Hundreds
of little padlocks now adorn the fence on the Passarelle des Arts. It is some kind of vandalism art project, I
guess. |
