Paris Journal 2011 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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We were only mildly surprised by the crowds we saw in the Parc de Bercy as we approached it from the Passerelle Simone de Beauvoir. After all, I knew it was the Fête des Jardins weekend, and that something surely would be happening in this beautiful park for that occasion. We have, however, never seen so many people in the Parc de Bercy. They were everywhere! There was no possibility of finding a park bench to rest upon after our long walk along the Seine from the 6th arrondissement. So we weren’t too surprised, given the numbers of people there, to see that a temporary stage had been set up and to hear an announcer speaking into a microphone, his voice amplified by a huge sound system. But as we went around that end of the park, trying to skirt the thickest part of the crowd and to enter the Jardin Yitzhak Rabin, we stopped to see what the show on the stage was all about. Tom saw wooden barrels, and noticed that the logos of sponsors all over the stage’s backdrop were makers of tools – power tools – including Stihl, the German manufacturer of Tom’s favorite, big, powerful chain saw. The announcer introduced the individuals who were about to do something. Tom thought perhaps these were magicians, and I said maybe they’ll do that trick where they cut through a barrel with a person inside, and miraculously, the person emerges unscathed. The very thought of a fellow magician performing made Tom stop to watch. No! We were wrong! This was no magic show! This was a CHAIN SAW COMPETITION! I kid you not! A chain saw competition was happening in beautiful, elegant, sophisticated Paris, and it was AMPLIFIED out the wazoo! The sound was deafening. Everyone around us, however, seemed to act like this was all perfectly normal. Paris, just when you think you know it and are familiar with it, will amaze you all over again. We walked, stunned, through the Yitzhak Rabin garden, a beautiful, formal French garden that is something you must see if you love gardens, especially rose gardens. I began to figure it out: the people who planned the Fête des Jardins are the gardeners who take care of the great parks all over Paris! They planned the events around topics that are of interest to them! Because they care for not just the flowerbeds but also the trees and shrubs, chain saws are very important to them! In fact, I detect a certain emphasis on trees when I look over the program for the Fête des Jardins. The Langue du Bois show in the Square d’Anvers on Saturday certainly was about trees. Okay, I can accept it now. There will be the occasional, very loud, amplified chain saw competition in Paris. The strangeness of what we experienced in the Parc de Bercy dilutes the strangeness of what we did not long before that. You see, it was Sunday, and the weather was absolutely perfect – temperatures in the 70s F, sunny sky – so we needed to have our walk along the Seine. In the sun, it was very warm, so we stayed on the left bank to find more shade. I was surprised as we walked through the Square Tino Rossi by the fact that there were no tango dancers present as there usually are – I’m not sure why they weren’t there. Maybe they’d gone to the chain saw show. Earlier in the summer, I remember reading about things that were being done or had been done to the riverbank just beyond Square Tino Rossi, in front of the Austerlitz train station, up to the Bibliotheque Mitterand, as part of the long-term project for returning the banks of the Seine to almost entirely pedestrian use. Ban the cars from the riverbanks! Well, almost. We reached a point where the riverbank ahead was a vast construction zone, and almost nobody was walking there. But there were a couple people there, and we are, as you might have noticed, not uninterested in construction zones. There was no work going on at the moment because it was Sunday, so we ventured on, into the place where the highway bed had been mercilessly removed and great piles of granite cobblestones loomed. So we were mostly walking on semi-smoothed out sand or gravel, with piles of used cobblestones on our left, and skids of new cobblestones on our right, in a vast space, in bright sunlight. It was fun. I felt like a 12-year-old let loose in a construction site. As we walked along, we examined how the concrete curbs were being set, and how the cobblestones were deeply placed, lengthwise, down into the sand. Then we finally reached an area where the cobblestones had just been mortared in place. At last, we could see ahead that the only other couple in sight had reached a point where they felt the way forward had been blocked, and so they were looking for a way back up to the street level. When we reached that point, we saw the barrier ahead and we did the same. Two sets of stairs were blocked off, but we were able to go up on a ramp that is intended for those who will be allowed to drive their little cars down to the Port d’Austerlitz to reach their houseboats (péniches). It was fun while it lasted. Up on the Pont de Bercy, we looked down at the riverbank just beyond the end of the construction zone, and noticed that it was all finished and occupied by people. We went down again, and strolled along, admiring the terraces and cafés that have been installed there near the Josephine Baker public swimming pool that floats on a barge in the river – always tied up at the port, of course. We enjoyed feeling the vibrations on the relatively new Passerelle Simone de Beauvoir, and I’ve already told you what happened in the park after that. When we reached the end of the peopled Parc de Bercy, we went into the Cour St. Emilion, the charming old cobbled lane of aged one-story stone-arched wine warehouses that have been turned into cafés and shops. It was 5PM, “tea time,” and we found a table out on the terrace at our favorite place in the Cour, the Nicolas café with its wine shop inside. We were lucky to get that table. While it took a while for the server to notice us out on the periphery of the terrace, we didn’t mind. We had a place in the shade to rest our weary feet and to watch the impressive numbers of people walking through, into, and across the lane. Mostly, I entertained myself by looking at people’s feet, to see what kind of shoes they were wearing to tough it out on the cobblestones. I saw every kind of footwear imaginable. Finally, the server came to our table and was grateful to be greeted by our smiles and “bonjours.” We knew what we wanted: I ordered the foie gras, and a glass of one of the wines Nicolas recommends to accompany the foie gras: a slightly sweet, white Jurançon. Tom ordered the assorted cheese plate and water. These nibblies came with a perfect basket of freshly baked bread. Where do they find freshly baked bread on a Sunday afternoon, we wondered? Well, the masses were out and about, and they must have bread. So some bakery had to stay at the task all day, baking away. We toasted the baker. When at last it was time to leave the terrace at Nicolas, after consuming the delicious, reasonably priced goodies, I suggested we board the number 14 metro – Tom’s favorite subway. He’d forgotten it was there! So he was delighted to be reminded. We found the entrance to the Cour Saint Emilion station of the line 14, and went down, down, down, onto its ultra-modern quai. I headed for the automatic doors at the front of the train, where Tom likes to sit so he can look out the front window of this superfast, driverless, computer-operated metro. Usually there are little kids there, and this time was no exception. But we sat just behind them, and Tom could see out that window just fine. We disembarked at the Pyramides station, and after many up escalators we found the exit toward the Louvre, on the avenue de l’Opéra, near the rue de l’Echelle. After having seen the crowds at the Parc de Bercy, the crowds near the Louvre seemed like nothing. Crossing back over to the left bank on the Pont Royal, we strolled through charming streets of the 7th, such as the rue de Lille, rue de Beaune, and the rue de Verneuil, where once again we saw the mysterious piano shop on the left bank, À la corde Pincée. But this time, much of Claude Mercier-Ythier’s little objects that had been on display in that window were gone. It looks like this little old man (b. 1931), who restored old pianos, clavicords and harpsicords, must have retired and been replaced by someone younger -- someone who does not like dust and clutter. By the time we made our way down the rue Jacob, rue Saint Benoit, and rue Bonaparte, we were so tired that we decided just to go home and call it a day. Later in the evening, I made some tomatoes/pesto/pasta for a light dinner, and as is our habit, we listened to quiet jazz. It was just another lovely and amazing day in Paris. Sign
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Monday, September 26, 2011
The
Monument to the Dead of Port Vendres, 1923, by
Aristide Maillol, in front of the Louvre.
The Port Vendres is an old, Mediterranean
fishing port now known for its seafood restaurants. This end of the Tuileries, called the Jardin du Carrousel, was re-done in 1995 to showcase 25 statues by
Maillol. This statue recognizes the
French volunteers who, weapons and supplies in hand, boarded ships at this
port to go to the aid of the American rebels during the Revolutionary War.
Dingy being
used as a planter, near the Pont Charles de Gaulle.
It is not
usual to see small Christian statues like this on the façade of buildings, up
one level from the street, in Paris.
This one is on the rue Saint Marc near the Palais
de la Bourse in the 2nd arrondissement.
Dog
faithfully awaits his owner outside a shop on the rue Mouffetard.
Poster in a
tourist-trap shop window on the rue Mouffetard.
This banner
signifies the construction being done at the port d’Austerlitz
to convert it to pedestrian use. The
agency that oversees this is the Ports de Paris.
Beyond the
Pont de Bercy at the southeast end of the
construction work, around the Passerelle Simone de
Beauvoir, the left bank of the Seine comes alive again.
Foie
Gras and salad, above,
and cheese plate with salad, below, at the Nicolas café’s terrace on the
charming Cour Saint Emilion.
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