Running away from home: Nikki's trip to Paris
Mar 27th, 2012, 10:57 AM
#41
Original Poster
Thursday, March 15, I find myself in a taxi. The driver is a man of about my own age or older. A woman on a bike, also of a certain age, nearly collides with the cab as she pedals in the bus lane. They have words. The taxi stops at a light and the woman on the bike pulls up next to us, on the left, and argues with the driver about her right to be where she was. She then crosses in front of the moving taxi. The driver pulls up next to her on her left, opens the passenger side window and continues the argument as he passes her. She is not wearing a helmet; almost nobody on bikes wears helmets.
I have lunch at Le Buisson Ardent. http://lebuissonardent.fr/ I dined here with my daughter last year and we both thought it was our best meal of the trip. There is a lunch menu at 18 euros for two courses and 21 euros for three courses. I enjoy my lunch here today. I start with cod rillettes with peppers, then go on to sauteed veal with wild mushrooms and jerusalem artichokes. I finish with crème brûlée. It is all delicious.
A note on the menu explains that there has been an establishment on this site with this name, translated as the burning bush, since the end of the middle ages. The burning bush is represented on a sculpted stone on the current building's pediment to the porch. This symbol of God's revelation to Moses is a particularly good link to my next activity, a course at the Collège de France about the origins of God in the Hebrew Bible. Once again, you would think I had planned things this way.
I have lunch at Le Buisson Ardent. http://lebuissonardent.fr/ I dined here with my daughter last year and we both thought it was our best meal of the trip. There is a lunch menu at 18 euros for two courses and 21 euros for three courses. I enjoy my lunch here today. I start with cod rillettes with peppers, then go on to sauteed veal with wild mushrooms and jerusalem artichokes. I finish with crème brûlée. It is all delicious.
A note on the menu explains that there has been an establishment on this site with this name, translated as the burning bush, since the end of the middle ages. The burning bush is represented on a sculpted stone on the current building's pediment to the porch. This symbol of God's revelation to Moses is a particularly good link to my next activity, a course at the Collège de France about the origins of God in the Hebrew Bible. Once again, you would think I had planned things this way.
Mar 27th, 2012, 12:53 PM
#43
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Nikki, I'm so jealous of your having seen Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. It's one of my favorite Molière plays. And to see Le Malade Imaginaire... I hope to make it to the Comédie Française someday.
Interesting about the St.-Ambroise Metro station and homeless people. We stayed a couple of blocks from there last fall (rue Lacharrière across the street from Sq. Maurice Gardette), were in and out of this station many times and never observed this. Must be something recent.
Thanks so much for your trip report. I'm newly inspired to try to get to the Comédie Française next trip, and to look into the opportunity to attend lectures at the Collège de France.
Interesting about the St.-Ambroise Metro station and homeless people. We stayed a couple of blocks from there last fall (rue Lacharrière across the street from Sq. Maurice Gardette), were in and out of this station many times and never observed this. Must be something recent.
Thanks so much for your trip report. I'm newly inspired to try to get to the Comédie Française next trip, and to look into the opportunity to attend lectures at the Collège de France.
Mar 27th, 2012, 06:55 PM
#44
Original Poster
I find the class fascinating. This instructor draws on archeology and evidence from ancient civilizations to augment the interpretations of the bible that come from the text itself. Today's discussion is about allusions within the bible to God and his "asherah". Is this a goddess? a cult object? a sanctuary? There is evidence for all three interpretations. There are drawings that might be of God with a female companion. The question is how God became one, the single God of monotheism. There is a tension throughout the bible between the conclusions drawn by the compilers of the text and the conflicting references that remain within it.
There is applause at the end of the class. Is this why I am here? To participate in the applause? I walk out humming "It ain't necessarily so..."
This evening I am off to the Théâtre du Rond-Point, a theater dedicated to the production of works by living authors. I am seeing the play Moi Je Crois Pas, a new work for two actors, who play a middle aged couple bickering about the things they believe and the things they don't. Does size matter? Do beans make you fart? Did God create the world in six days?
What do we believe and why? This seems to be the theme of the day. I buy a copy of the play to fill in the dialogue that I miss. The woman who plays the wife in this show is the director of the play I saw last night. That was a very classic production and this is theater of the absurd. There is that tension between classicism and modernity again.
I read some of the play while waiting for my dinner at a restaurant back in my neighborhood, A La Renaissance, at 87 rue de la Roquette. When my os a moelle arrives, the dog at the bar looks very interested. Sorry, this bone is mine.
There is applause at the end of the class. Is this why I am here? To participate in the applause? I walk out humming "It ain't necessarily so..."
This evening I am off to the Théâtre du Rond-Point, a theater dedicated to the production of works by living authors. I am seeing the play Moi Je Crois Pas, a new work for two actors, who play a middle aged couple bickering about the things they believe and the things they don't. Does size matter? Do beans make you fart? Did God create the world in six days?
What do we believe and why? This seems to be the theme of the day. I buy a copy of the play to fill in the dialogue that I miss. The woman who plays the wife in this show is the director of the play I saw last night. That was a very classic production and this is theater of the absurd. There is that tension between classicism and modernity again.
I read some of the play while waiting for my dinner at a restaurant back in my neighborhood, A La Renaissance, at 87 rue de la Roquette. When my os a moelle arrives, the dog at the bar looks very interested. Sorry, this bone is mine.
Mar 27th, 2012, 10:50 PM
#45
Original Poster
Friday, March 16, I meet my friends Mimi, Miki, and Dick at the Hotel de Ville, where we see a free exhibition of photos by Robert Doisneau. These black and white studies of the sights and people at the now-demolished marketplace Les Halles are fascinating. I love the earthiness of the character studies of the people working at the market. Mimi is displeased by the graphic photos of animal carcasses, but I think they capture the essential flavor of the old market. I understand the urge to photograph markets, including and even especially those elements which are somewhat unsavory. I have ordered a copy of the catalogue of the exhibition.
In another gallery within the Hotel de Ville, we see drawings by French cartoonist Jean-Jacques Sempé. His art is familiar from appearing on many covers of the New Yorker magazine. I have to confess that I frequently find the New Yorker cartoons to be over my head. These are aesthetically appealing, but I do not immediately grasp the visual humor. Dick starts laughing at the first sight of some of them and then points out the clever visual puns to me before I see them. I, on the other hand, start to smile after reading some of the captions. An example of the difference between the visual and verbal processing that goes on in our minds.
We walk a few blocks to the wine bar La Tartine on the rue de Rivoli for lunch. It is my companions' first full day in Paris. It is warm enough to sit out on the terrace. Mimi remembers this place from a previous stay and she talks to some of the employees and learns that since she was last here, there has been a fire and a change of ownership. But the place is still very appealing, and we all enjoy our meals. I have a glorious salad filled with warm goat cheese on toast, smoked duck breast, and ham. Others order onion soup and the daily specials of fish or veal kidneys. I think about returning to this place for lunch later during my stay, but I never make it back again.
We meet up again for dinner this evening at Le Pré Verre. http://www.lepreverre.com/en/paris.html There is a dinner menu of three courses for 30 euros. I start with coquilles saint jacques with split peas and lemon grass. The scallops are very good, although I am not sure the split peas work for me. Then I have cochon au lait, suckling pig with cabbage in cream sauce. This is wonderful. We try to figure out the seasoning. Mimi thinks it is anise. I think it is not, as I don't like anise and I love this sauce. Mimi asks the waiter, and it is indeed anise, as well as vanilla. In France they manage to make even the things I don't like taste good.
One of the more intriguing things ordered by our group is the smoked mashed potatoes that accompanies a very good steak. I really like my taste of this dish, and I remember the smoking demonstration at the Omnivore festival, wondering if this has been created using the same technique.
In another gallery within the Hotel de Ville, we see drawings by French cartoonist Jean-Jacques Sempé. His art is familiar from appearing on many covers of the New Yorker magazine. I have to confess that I frequently find the New Yorker cartoons to be over my head. These are aesthetically appealing, but I do not immediately grasp the visual humor. Dick starts laughing at the first sight of some of them and then points out the clever visual puns to me before I see them. I, on the other hand, start to smile after reading some of the captions. An example of the difference between the visual and verbal processing that goes on in our minds.
We walk a few blocks to the wine bar La Tartine on the rue de Rivoli for lunch. It is my companions' first full day in Paris. It is warm enough to sit out on the terrace. Mimi remembers this place from a previous stay and she talks to some of the employees and learns that since she was last here, there has been a fire and a change of ownership. But the place is still very appealing, and we all enjoy our meals. I have a glorious salad filled with warm goat cheese on toast, smoked duck breast, and ham. Others order onion soup and the daily specials of fish or veal kidneys. I think about returning to this place for lunch later during my stay, but I never make it back again.
We meet up again for dinner this evening at Le Pré Verre. http://www.lepreverre.com/en/paris.html There is a dinner menu of three courses for 30 euros. I start with coquilles saint jacques with split peas and lemon grass. The scallops are very good, although I am not sure the split peas work for me. Then I have cochon au lait, suckling pig with cabbage in cream sauce. This is wonderful. We try to figure out the seasoning. Mimi thinks it is anise. I think it is not, as I don't like anise and I love this sauce. Mimi asks the waiter, and it is indeed anise, as well as vanilla. In France they manage to make even the things I don't like taste good.
One of the more intriguing things ordered by our group is the smoked mashed potatoes that accompanies a very good steak. I really like my taste of this dish, and I remember the smoking demonstration at the Omnivore festival, wondering if this has been created using the same technique.
Mar 28th, 2012, 09:40 AM
#49
Nikki is indeed very well organized -- better than I, in any case, but of course we 'locals' miss just about everything because we always think we have all the time in the world -- and yet we don't.
Mar 28th, 2012, 12:27 PM
#51
Original Poster
Saturday, March 17, I am meeting Mimi, Miki, and Dick for lunch at the Baron Rouge at the Marché d'Aligre. I arrive first at 12:30 and snag us a table in the small old wine bar. The others arrive within ten minutes, and soon after there are no seats left. There are people standing around old wine barrels inside and outside near the guy shucking oysters on the sidewalk. The bar is lined with bottles of wine and with empty bottles which they fill with wine from the barrels. I am told by a more intrepid member of our party that there are Turkish toilets out back; I am not inspired to go out and see for myself.
Our table is soon covered with baskets of bread and platters of oysters, cheese and charcuterie. The large assortment of cheese is 14 euros; the large charcuterie assortment is 12 euros. There is enough for everyone. A fun and festive meal. Mimi says if there were a place like this near her, she would go every day. Hard to picture this in New England, though.
We had hoped to explore the market, but by the time we venture out after lunch, the vendors are packing up and the gleaners are picking through the leavings. So we walk to the Maison Rouge, a small private contemporary art museum across the street from the marina south of the Bastille. http://www.lamaisonrouge.org/ Rouge is the theme of the day.
The exhibit is all about neon. One installation has a chaotic collection of words in many colors of neon hanging over a large, decorative old book. Not noticing the black line meant to keep people away, Mimi goes up to the book and manages to see one startlingly crude word before being chased away by the guard. I read later in the guide to the exhibit that the artist of this piece used to hold soirées in his Los Angeles studio where the guests were invited to propose various ways of describing and naming the female sexual organs. All their submissions were inscribed in this book. The neon words hanging over the book were taken from it.
After seeing so much neon that our eyes are blinking, we go our separate ways. This evening I am seeing a dance program featuring Sylvie Guillem, a former star of the Paris Opera Ballet, at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées. This beautiful dancer, now in her late forties, performs contemporary dance rather than ballet. One of the numbers tonight was choreographed by Mats Ek, the Swedish choreographer of the contemporary piece I saw the other night at the Opéra Garnier. Ek, who is in his late sixties, is also performing tonight, in a piece with his wife. There is one other number performed by two much younger dancers, a man and a woman, both bare breasted. The program is very enjoyable all around.
I take a taxi home from the theater. The young driver asks if I have seen a show there and I tell him it was a dance performance. Classical? No, modern. I ask if he is interested in dance. Just hip hop, he tells me. You dance? No time, working sixty hours a week. We discuss where I'm from. Boston? Do you know the Celtics? And then he names the current lineup for me. He is passionate about basketball. I talk about my love for France and things French.
Are there many freemasons where I live, he asks. I tell him it's not something I've noticed, and ask why he wants to know. And then he goes into a long rant about how freemasons hold all the positions of power in Europe and in Africa. Now we are off to the races. He was born in Paris, but his parents are from Algeria, and he tells me that the troubles in that country have all been controlled and manipulated by masons. He asks if I know why there is a pyramid on the dollar bill. And he believes that the information we are fed by the media does not make sense, that it doesn't make sense that bin Laden was responsible for the destruction of the World Trade Center, that it could have all been staged.
Moi, je crois pas. Are we there yet?
Our table is soon covered with baskets of bread and platters of oysters, cheese and charcuterie. The large assortment of cheese is 14 euros; the large charcuterie assortment is 12 euros. There is enough for everyone. A fun and festive meal. Mimi says if there were a place like this near her, she would go every day. Hard to picture this in New England, though.
We had hoped to explore the market, but by the time we venture out after lunch, the vendors are packing up and the gleaners are picking through the leavings. So we walk to the Maison Rouge, a small private contemporary art museum across the street from the marina south of the Bastille. http://www.lamaisonrouge.org/ Rouge is the theme of the day.
The exhibit is all about neon. One installation has a chaotic collection of words in many colors of neon hanging over a large, decorative old book. Not noticing the black line meant to keep people away, Mimi goes up to the book and manages to see one startlingly crude word before being chased away by the guard. I read later in the guide to the exhibit that the artist of this piece used to hold soirées in his Los Angeles studio where the guests were invited to propose various ways of describing and naming the female sexual organs. All their submissions were inscribed in this book. The neon words hanging over the book were taken from it.
After seeing so much neon that our eyes are blinking, we go our separate ways. This evening I am seeing a dance program featuring Sylvie Guillem, a former star of the Paris Opera Ballet, at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées. This beautiful dancer, now in her late forties, performs contemporary dance rather than ballet. One of the numbers tonight was choreographed by Mats Ek, the Swedish choreographer of the contemporary piece I saw the other night at the Opéra Garnier. Ek, who is in his late sixties, is also performing tonight, in a piece with his wife. There is one other number performed by two much younger dancers, a man and a woman, both bare breasted. The program is very enjoyable all around.
I take a taxi home from the theater. The young driver asks if I have seen a show there and I tell him it was a dance performance. Classical? No, modern. I ask if he is interested in dance. Just hip hop, he tells me. You dance? No time, working sixty hours a week. We discuss where I'm from. Boston? Do you know the Celtics? And then he names the current lineup for me. He is passionate about basketball. I talk about my love for France and things French.
Are there many freemasons where I live, he asks. I tell him it's not something I've noticed, and ask why he wants to know. And then he goes into a long rant about how freemasons hold all the positions of power in Europe and in Africa. Now we are off to the races. He was born in Paris, but his parents are from Algeria, and he tells me that the troubles in that country have all been controlled and manipulated by masons. He asks if I know why there is a pyramid on the dollar bill. And he believes that the information we are fed by the media does not make sense, that it doesn't make sense that bin Laden was responsible for the destruction of the World Trade Center, that it could have all been staged.
Moi, je crois pas. Are we there yet?
Mar 28th, 2012, 12:46 PM
#52
We are served by a friendly young waiter with perfect English. I talk to him in French until I realize his English is substantially better than my French. At some point I ask where he learned English, and he tells me he is British. I'm feeling rather stupid.>>
Nikki - that happened to us once in Bordeaux. we had a whole tour of the chateau [with a french family, so we didn't have to do much talking] from a girl who afterwards realised we were english just before we realised she was english too! we felt so idiotic.
anyway, great to read your TR, i had no idea that you had so much planned. i feel tired just reading it. You realise of course that it was your fault that we got tickets for the comedie francaise, and I'm a tad disappointed that you haven't got there yet.
The GTG was terrific, it was lovely meting you and the rest of the "gang" and my sole complaint is that it was over far too soon.
Nikki - that happened to us once in Bordeaux. we had a whole tour of the chateau [with a french family, so we didn't have to do much talking] from a girl who afterwards realised we were english just before we realised she was english too! we felt so idiotic.
anyway, great to read your TR, i had no idea that you had so much planned. i feel tired just reading it. You realise of course that it was your fault that we got tickets for the comedie francaise, and I'm a tad disappointed that you haven't got there yet.
The GTG was terrific, it was lovely meting you and the rest of the "gang" and my sole complaint is that it was over far too soon.
Mar 28th, 2012, 04:46 PM
#56
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Great report, Nikki!
You have the most fascinating trips to Paris of anyone I know. I'm taking plenty of notes for my next trip.
Kerry and I enjoyed getting together with you- both times. Sorry we didn't end up at a better restaurant that last night, but we enjoyed it just the same.
Waiting eagerly for the rest of the story !
You have the most fascinating trips to Paris of anyone I know. I'm taking plenty of notes for my next trip.
Kerry and I enjoyed getting together with you- both times. Sorry we didn't end up at a better restaurant that last night, but we enjoyed it just the same.
Waiting eagerly for the rest of the story !
Mar 28th, 2012, 10:40 PM
#59
Original Poster
Sunday, March 18, I have a low key day. I had thought of going to the Salon du Livre, a book fair out at the Porte de Versailles, and my resolve was strengthened yesterday when I saw a woman on the métro carrying a tote bag from the event. But I have not had enough down time and am feeling the need. My guilt over missing the opportunity to participate in this French intellectual event is lessened when I think about all the other things I have done. Can't do everything.
But I can forage for provisions at the shops in the neighborhood and make myself a magret de canard with a cheese course and an apricot tart. It could be worse.
I finish reading the play and think about last night's taxi driver with the conspiracy theories. What do we believe and why?
I turn on the television for the first time. I watch a show where a bunch of French singers, some of whom I recognize, talk to each other and sing some songs. Then the end of a TV movie about a guy who runs a brocante and is friends with a gypsy musician whose beautiful daughter loves the son of a cop who suspects the father of some kind of larceny. The real thief is discovered and the father and the cop's son play guitar together, by which we are to understand that the young guitar player will be making beautiful music with the beautiful daughter. Voilà.
I watch a quiz show reminiscent of Jeopardy. The young pharmacy student is stumped by the category of "children of movie stars". This gives me hope for the future.
I meet Mimi, Miki, and Dick at the Opéra Garnier, where we are attending a concert of early twentieth century chamber music for winds by Poulenc and Martinu. This is one of my very favorite kinds of music. I am sitting in the second row (my companions are in box seats in the balcony and do not see me although I stand and wave my arms in the air for a while to try to catch their attention until I feel like everybody in the theater can see me except them). I enjoy watching the interaction among the musicians, always looking for tips to keep my chamber group playing together.
After the concert we look for a place to have a drink together before going our separate ways. We spot a café across the street and learn where it is that people go to order those ten euro cokes. With a supplement after 9:30 PM! Others drink wine and I settle for a small bottle of water for just under six euros and think of it as rent for this convenient spot in which to chat.
My comrades had stumbled into a communist rally this afternoon while heading to the market at the Bastille. I now remember seeing signs for this all week, exhorting people to "retake the Bastille". This sounds like a festive gathering with live music and lots of stimulation. I (very) briefly regret my leisurely day at home.
But I can forage for provisions at the shops in the neighborhood and make myself a magret de canard with a cheese course and an apricot tart. It could be worse.
I finish reading the play and think about last night's taxi driver with the conspiracy theories. What do we believe and why?
I turn on the television for the first time. I watch a show where a bunch of French singers, some of whom I recognize, talk to each other and sing some songs. Then the end of a TV movie about a guy who runs a brocante and is friends with a gypsy musician whose beautiful daughter loves the son of a cop who suspects the father of some kind of larceny. The real thief is discovered and the father and the cop's son play guitar together, by which we are to understand that the young guitar player will be making beautiful music with the beautiful daughter. Voilà.
I watch a quiz show reminiscent of Jeopardy. The young pharmacy student is stumped by the category of "children of movie stars". This gives me hope for the future.
I meet Mimi, Miki, and Dick at the Opéra Garnier, where we are attending a concert of early twentieth century chamber music for winds by Poulenc and Martinu. This is one of my very favorite kinds of music. I am sitting in the second row (my companions are in box seats in the balcony and do not see me although I stand and wave my arms in the air for a while to try to catch their attention until I feel like everybody in the theater can see me except them). I enjoy watching the interaction among the musicians, always looking for tips to keep my chamber group playing together.
After the concert we look for a place to have a drink together before going our separate ways. We spot a café across the street and learn where it is that people go to order those ten euro cokes. With a supplement after 9:30 PM! Others drink wine and I settle for a small bottle of water for just under six euros and think of it as rent for this convenient spot in which to chat.
My comrades had stumbled into a communist rally this afternoon while heading to the market at the Bastille. I now remember seeing signs for this all week, exhorting people to "retake the Bastille". This sounds like a festive gathering with live music and lots of stimulation. I (very) briefly regret my leisurely day at home.
Mar 29th, 2012, 01:24 AM
#60
We spot a café across the street and learn where it is that people go to order those ten euro cokes. With a supplement after 9:30 PM! Others drink wine and I settle for a small bottle of water for just under six euros and think of it as rent for this convenient spot in which to chat.>>
i think that this is just the way the parisiens must view these high prices, though €6 for water is more than even we found on this trip, when i thought that some of the prices were extortionate.
OTOH, the taxi "home" from the GTG near the Gare st. Lazare in the 8th to St. Michel in the 5th was €14, and that after 10pm, and we did find some places that were much more reasonable.
i think that this is just the way the parisiens must view these high prices, though €6 for water is more than even we found on this trip, when i thought that some of the prices were extortionate.
OTOH, the taxi "home" from the GTG near the Gare st. Lazare in the 8th to St. Michel in the 5th was €14, and that after 10pm, and we did find some places that were much more reasonable.
