Paris Rendezvous: Nikki's trip report
Apr 6th, 2008, 11:01 PM
#41
<i>She waves me off and says, “Non, Madame.” I’m not having much success at learning the rules. Nobody else seems to be making this particular faux pas.</i>
Tipping the ushers is forbidden in national and municipal theatres. It is obligatory in private theatres. In Pariscope, the two types of theatres are clearly separated in the listings: <b>théâtres subventionnés</b> and <b>théâtres privés</b>.
Tipping the ushers is forbidden in national and municipal theatres. It is obligatory in private theatres. In Pariscope, the two types of theatres are clearly separated in the listings: <b>théâtres subventionnés</b> and <b>théâtres privés</b>.
Apr 7th, 2008, 03:13 AM
#43
Original Poster
Monday night I take the bus to the Bistrot du Peintre in the eleventh arrondissement at 116 avenue Ledru-Rollin, telephone 01 47 00 34 39. As I walk in the door, I hear someone call out my name. I feel like I’m entering the bar on “Cheers”. A few people who post on the Fodor’s message board, upon learning we would be in Paris at the same time, have arranged to meet for dinner, conversation, gossip and laughs. I have attended such get-togethers in various places now: Massachusetts, New Jersey, Lisbon, Barcelona and Paris. They have all been a hoot. It is great to put faces to names, especially of people I feel I have gotten to know through the things they write on line. It feels like meeting penpals.
There are eight people at this gathering, and we are shown to a table upstairs at the bustling bistro. I really enjoy my dinner, starting with os a moelle, a long marrow bone slit down the middle, and moving on to duck confit and the wonderful sarladaise potatoes that I remember from visiting the Dordogne. Others at the table all enjoy their dishes as well. A neighboring table of diners does tell us to keep down the ruckus; I guess we are being a little too audibly enthusiastic, but as the room fills the noise level increases until the point is moot. By the end of the evening, we are all old friends, and two of the company come back to check out my apartment and to engage in some more conversation. This is good; with such spacious digs, I’ve been feeling I should have a party.
There are eight people at this gathering, and we are shown to a table upstairs at the bustling bistro. I really enjoy my dinner, starting with os a moelle, a long marrow bone slit down the middle, and moving on to duck confit and the wonderful sarladaise potatoes that I remember from visiting the Dordogne. Others at the table all enjoy their dishes as well. A neighboring table of diners does tell us to keep down the ruckus; I guess we are being a little too audibly enthusiastic, but as the room fills the noise level increases until the point is moot. By the end of the evening, we are all old friends, and two of the company come back to check out my apartment and to engage in some more conversation. This is good; with such spacious digs, I’ve been feeling I should have a party.
Apr 7th, 2008, 05:30 AM
#45
Original Poster
Tuesday is my last day in Paris. I get a late start, knowing I will be out late again this evening at the ballet. I struggle with the decision of whether to go to the Quai Branly museum, which has been on my short list. I don’t want to run out of steam before the day is over, I don’t feel a great desire to go at this moment, and I have decided to go back to the Collège de France for another course this afternoon, so I make the hard choice and skip the museum. If I only had one more day…
I have lunch again at the Restaurant l’Écume, knowing I will have no time for supper. Madame remembers what I had to drink last week and asks if that is what I want. Oui, merci. Two rail-thin men in business suits sit at the table next to me. One of them places his order and is served a very large steak. He looks at it, laughs, says he will have to nap this afternoon, and digs in with a relish I have seldom seen in anyone other than teenage boys, slathering each slice of steak with puréed potatoes. The two women at the table on my other side are far more genteel, but I am surprised to notice that one of them changes her fork from her left to right hand as most Americans do, but as I, a lefty, never have. I never even noticed that other people did this until it was pointed out to me by my high school boyfriend, who said I ate like a European. I am wondering whether this woman, who seems to me to be French, is a dedicated right-hander (is righty a word?) or whether she was brought up in the US. I enjoy my lunch quite a bit, finish up with a lovely warm tarte tatin, and go off to take the bus to St. Germain.
I am heading for the shop of Dona Giacometti at 6 rue St. Sulpice. I bought earrings for my mother there when I was last in Paris two years ago, and I want to buy a pair for a friend. But sadly the tiny shop is closed when I arrive, and my friend will have to wait. I wander into the churches of Saint-Sulpice and Saint-Germain-des-Prés, having never visited either before. After some window shopping and picture taking, I head over to the Collège de France.
I was so happy with the course I attended Thursday that I had checked the schedule to see what other lectures might be interesting while I was on my own. I found a course and a seminar about Proust. OK, I haven’t read any Proust since the last French class I took, as a first year college student, in 1969. But I figure I might absorb something, and it might inspire me to go back and read some more. I get to the lecture hall a half hour before the class begins, and it is practically filled. The web site says that hall has 420 seats, and I estimate that ninety percent of them are filled. There are many more people than there had been for the course I attended the previous week. Almost everyone is reading books or newspapers as they wait. I see many copies of Le Monde.
The lecturer, Antoine Compagnon, is very interesting. I see from his biography on the website that he teaches at Columbia University as well as in Paris. The woman next to me is taking copious notes in a beautiful leather-bound journal. After an hour, the lecture is over and about half the people leave. Then another guest lecturer is introduced. This is the seminar, which apparently consists of a guest lecturer after the main lecture every week. This week the guest lecturer is from Stanford University. I stay and find this very interesting as well.
I leave with a resolve to go back and find that old volume of Proust from college as I catch the bus to the Opéra Garnier.
I purchased tickets to the ballet Caligula on the website http://www.operadeparis.fr/. I read some reviews of this fairly new ballet, which was choreographed by a member of the company of the Paris ballet, and they were not enthusiastic. But I don’t care, it’s interesting to see new dance anywhere, and I am looking forward to the evening.
The ballet is in one act. One review mentioned that the ballet is incomprehensible without the program, so I buy the program and read the part that the program suggests reading before the performance. The ballet is still pretty incomprehensible. There is an orchestra playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and between the seasons there are interludes of pantomime to the accompaniment of recorded electronic music. The orchestra is conducted by the violin soloist, who is very good. I’m thinking that with all the tourist performances of the Four Seasons around Paris, every string player in the vicinity must have this particular music down pat.
My seat is in the first loge, on the side, and when the girls next to me lean forward, I can’t see part of the stage. Of course they are leaning forward because the people to the right of them are leaning forward, and there is a domino effect. The people behind me in the second row end up standing. On the other hand, the choreography is such that after a while I realize I am not missing that much. On the whole, though, I enjoy the experience. The loge seats are accessed through private entryways, each outfitted with a couch and a mirror, and they must be unlocked by the usher. I picture the days when such private accommodations were occupied by Parisian high society, and imagine that a good part of the show in those days was watching the other patrons rather than the stage; and for that activity my seat was admirably situated.
I take the métro back to my apartment and go about packing my things. I finish the last of the avocados. I listen to the radio. The first time I went to Paris in recent years, I was excited to have the sounds of French all around me, on the radio, in the streets. Now that I have discovered the ability to listen to French radio stations at home on my computer, that thrill has diminished a little. But I still take in deep gulps of the atmosphere to keep it in my memory after I have returned home.
Wednesday morning I take a shuttle to the airport (http://world-shuttles.com/). I arrive with plenty of time to check my bags, take the train to the new terminal 2E, buy some French home magazines and chocolate, and board the plane. While it is nearly full this time, I have an empty seat next to me and once again enjoy a comfortable flight. There is a large group of men in yellow shirts going to some kind of rugby event in Boston, and none of them can sit still; they’re all in the aisles, drinking beer and chatting. It actually makes the flight feel somewhat festive. Before I know it, I am calling my husband and telling him I am at the curb; come get me. And the trip is over.
I have lunch again at the Restaurant l’Écume, knowing I will have no time for supper. Madame remembers what I had to drink last week and asks if that is what I want. Oui, merci. Two rail-thin men in business suits sit at the table next to me. One of them places his order and is served a very large steak. He looks at it, laughs, says he will have to nap this afternoon, and digs in with a relish I have seldom seen in anyone other than teenage boys, slathering each slice of steak with puréed potatoes. The two women at the table on my other side are far more genteel, but I am surprised to notice that one of them changes her fork from her left to right hand as most Americans do, but as I, a lefty, never have. I never even noticed that other people did this until it was pointed out to me by my high school boyfriend, who said I ate like a European. I am wondering whether this woman, who seems to me to be French, is a dedicated right-hander (is righty a word?) or whether she was brought up in the US. I enjoy my lunch quite a bit, finish up with a lovely warm tarte tatin, and go off to take the bus to St. Germain.
I am heading for the shop of Dona Giacometti at 6 rue St. Sulpice. I bought earrings for my mother there when I was last in Paris two years ago, and I want to buy a pair for a friend. But sadly the tiny shop is closed when I arrive, and my friend will have to wait. I wander into the churches of Saint-Sulpice and Saint-Germain-des-Prés, having never visited either before. After some window shopping and picture taking, I head over to the Collège de France.
I was so happy with the course I attended Thursday that I had checked the schedule to see what other lectures might be interesting while I was on my own. I found a course and a seminar about Proust. OK, I haven’t read any Proust since the last French class I took, as a first year college student, in 1969. But I figure I might absorb something, and it might inspire me to go back and read some more. I get to the lecture hall a half hour before the class begins, and it is practically filled. The web site says that hall has 420 seats, and I estimate that ninety percent of them are filled. There are many more people than there had been for the course I attended the previous week. Almost everyone is reading books or newspapers as they wait. I see many copies of Le Monde.
The lecturer, Antoine Compagnon, is very interesting. I see from his biography on the website that he teaches at Columbia University as well as in Paris. The woman next to me is taking copious notes in a beautiful leather-bound journal. After an hour, the lecture is over and about half the people leave. Then another guest lecturer is introduced. This is the seminar, which apparently consists of a guest lecturer after the main lecture every week. This week the guest lecturer is from Stanford University. I stay and find this very interesting as well.
I leave with a resolve to go back and find that old volume of Proust from college as I catch the bus to the Opéra Garnier.
I purchased tickets to the ballet Caligula on the website http://www.operadeparis.fr/. I read some reviews of this fairly new ballet, which was choreographed by a member of the company of the Paris ballet, and they were not enthusiastic. But I don’t care, it’s interesting to see new dance anywhere, and I am looking forward to the evening.
The ballet is in one act. One review mentioned that the ballet is incomprehensible without the program, so I buy the program and read the part that the program suggests reading before the performance. The ballet is still pretty incomprehensible. There is an orchestra playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and between the seasons there are interludes of pantomime to the accompaniment of recorded electronic music. The orchestra is conducted by the violin soloist, who is very good. I’m thinking that with all the tourist performances of the Four Seasons around Paris, every string player in the vicinity must have this particular music down pat.
My seat is in the first loge, on the side, and when the girls next to me lean forward, I can’t see part of the stage. Of course they are leaning forward because the people to the right of them are leaning forward, and there is a domino effect. The people behind me in the second row end up standing. On the other hand, the choreography is such that after a while I realize I am not missing that much. On the whole, though, I enjoy the experience. The loge seats are accessed through private entryways, each outfitted with a couch and a mirror, and they must be unlocked by the usher. I picture the days when such private accommodations were occupied by Parisian high society, and imagine that a good part of the show in those days was watching the other patrons rather than the stage; and for that activity my seat was admirably situated.
I take the métro back to my apartment and go about packing my things. I finish the last of the avocados. I listen to the radio. The first time I went to Paris in recent years, I was excited to have the sounds of French all around me, on the radio, in the streets. Now that I have discovered the ability to listen to French radio stations at home on my computer, that thrill has diminished a little. But I still take in deep gulps of the atmosphere to keep it in my memory after I have returned home.
Wednesday morning I take a shuttle to the airport (http://world-shuttles.com/). I arrive with plenty of time to check my bags, take the train to the new terminal 2E, buy some French home magazines and chocolate, and board the plane. While it is nearly full this time, I have an empty seat next to me and once again enjoy a comfortable flight. There is a large group of men in yellow shirts going to some kind of rugby event in Boston, and none of them can sit still; they’re all in the aisles, drinking beer and chatting. It actually makes the flight feel somewhat festive. Before I know it, I am calling my husband and telling him I am at the curb; come get me. And the trip is over.
Apr 7th, 2008, 05:55 AM
#46
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Terrific report. I've enjoyed reading it, and thank you for taking the time to write.
I like the looks of your apartment and have made a note of it on my Paris list.
I'm impressed with your ability to understand the college lectures. It's great to learn that these are offered. Learning the theater tipping protocol is a bonus.
I like the looks of your apartment and have made a note of it on my Paris list.
I'm impressed with your ability to understand the college lectures. It's great to learn that these are offered. Learning the theater tipping protocol is a bonus.
Apr 7th, 2008, 12:15 PM
#53
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Thanks for the information and link to the podcasts and to the live lectures. I look forward to finding some to drop in on.
A bit of information about Brasserie Balzar: in the late evening ( I can't recall if it's 10:00 or 10:30 pm) they have a special menu for 19 Euros that included nearly everything on the carte. Definitely worth it.
A bit of information about Brasserie Balzar: in the late evening ( I can't recall if it's 10:00 or 10:30 pm) they have a special menu for 19 Euros that included nearly everything on the carte. Definitely worth it.
Apr 7th, 2008, 12:16 PM
#54
Original Poster
Thanks for all the additional comments.
I'll try to let myself believe that a sunny day in Massachusetts is better than a snowy one in Paris, but I'm not that easily fooled.
However, Roussillon, I see on another thread that you live in the south of France and that you have done home exchanges. Any interest in a nice house on Cape Cod?
I'll try to let myself believe that a sunny day in Massachusetts is better than a snowy one in Paris, but I'm not that easily fooled.
However, Roussillon, I see on another thread that you live in the south of France and that you have done home exchanges. Any interest in a nice house on Cape Cod?
Apr 7th, 2008, 02:48 PM
#55
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Nikki,
May I ask how you liked the area your apartment was in? Is this the area you usually stay in or something new? did it seem you had to metro or bus to everything and did you mind?
I've only been to Paris 2 times and stayed in the 6th and 7th but there is a place on Rue de Lyon I have been considering. It is about equidistant between the Gare de Lyon and bastille metros.
thanks,lynda
May I ask how you liked the area your apartment was in? Is this the area you usually stay in or something new? did it seem you had to metro or bus to everything and did you mind?
I've only been to Paris 2 times and stayed in the 6th and 7th but there is a place on Rue de Lyon I have been considering. It is about equidistant between the Gare de Lyon and bastille metros.
thanks,lynda
Apr 7th, 2008, 04:12 PM
#56
Join Date: May 2005
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Thanks for the link to the Cluny museum! It was on my short list since I am a big Medieval fan... but since I am also a musician, I was delighted to learn that there are concerts there as well! I will be attending the troubadour and trouvère concert in May! Thanks!
Apr 7th, 2008, 06:36 PM
#58
Original Poster
Lynda, I have never stayed in that area before, but I liked it a lot. I took the metro or bus almost everywhere, but you would certainly be able to walk lots of places if you wanted to.
Jojonana, I hope you enjoy the concert. I have been trying to get to one for several years, but they always seem to take the week off when I am in Paris. Glad there is a concert scheduled when you will be there.
SharonG, how could we not feel like old friends? We had so much to gossip about. Isn't the internet grand?
Jojonana, I hope you enjoy the concert. I have been trying to get to one for several years, but they always seem to take the week off when I am in Paris. Glad there is a concert scheduled when you will be there.
SharonG, how could we not feel like old friends? We had so much to gossip about. Isn't the internet grand?
Apr 8th, 2008, 03:56 AM
#60
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What a great report. Seems we were in Paris around the same time. I arrived on March 24th. My report pails compared to yours. Your a great writer. Thanks for putting your album on my Kodak gallery. Lovely pictures.
