Paris at a Certain Age

Gilt and Grèves

I’ve been at a conference on how to move to Paris and off-line awhile. The last day of the conference we had a private tour of the Hôtel de Ville, the city hall of Paris. It’s full of gilt and fine art and sculpture, but the part I liked most was learning the history of the word grève. The Place de l’Hôtel de Ville was originally called Place de Grève. In the past, a grève was a river bank, not a strike. There was a small harbor on the Seine since olden times and in the middle ages it was called the Port de la Grève. River traders unloaded their goods here and it was a mercantile center. People gathered in the nearby Place to look for work. It also became the location for celebrations, executions and pillorying people.

In the mid thirteen hundreds, the first city hall was built here. In the words of Victor Hugo in Notre Dame de Paris,

“The place de Greve was a horrible dark place, and so was the sinister town hall. Death was always present here by the presence of the gallows in the middle of the square, a pillory, chains and scaffold. This square of Death had always a morbid attraction on people.”

In 1830 the name of the Place was changed to Place de l’Hôtel de Ville and all that remains of Place de Grève is the word association of grève with public discord and employment issues. As we wait to see if there will be a grève (strike) in Paris, I try to imagine before the gilded halls of Hôtel de Ville were erected and the Place de Grève was noisy with the violent issues of those times.

Beauty Takes Practice in Paris

There is a beauty school on the ground floor of the apartment building where we are staying. When we leave each day, we watch the students practicing on live models as well as practice dummy heads.

And we found out where bad haircuts go to die.

Wallace Fountains

I’m grateful to Eric of Paris Daily Photo for introducing me to Wallace Fountains. They meld so beautifully into their surroundings that you aren’t consciously aware of them. But once they are pointed out, you begin noticing them with delight all over Paris.

Sir Richard Wallace was an Englishman enamored with his adopted city of Paris. He inherited a fortune and decided to utilize it to benefit the city he loved. He founded a hospital and distributed supplies during the Franco-Prussian War. After the war, the city’s water delivery infrastructure was seriously undermined and drinking water became costly and unaffordable to the poor. This inspired Wallace to provide free public drinking water.

He conceived the fountain’s design of 4 caryatids (representing kindness, simplicity, charity, and sobriety, ) supporting a dolphin-encrusted dome overhead with water trickling down from its center. Originally tin cups were affixed by a chain to permit passers-by the opportunity to easily quench their thirst. He wanted the fountains to be affordable so more could placed around the city and he wanted them to be useful yet beautiful. He intended them to be clearly visible, yet harmonious with their setting. He hired sculptor Charles Auguste Lebourg to execute his conception and the fountains were eventually made of cast iron painted dark green.

The city of Paris chose the locations and the majority are placed in squares. Most are still working but are turned off in the winter so freezing won’t damage the plumbing. They are much loved, but one source states that despite France’s respect for le patrimoine, the 108 Wallace fountains have not been designated as historical monuments. Other cities have embraced the idea and you can find Wallace fountains now in many countries.I carry around a list of Wallace Fountain locations so I can look for them when I visit a different quartier. I want to find as many as I can during this 3 month Paris visit.

Le Baron Rouge

Le Baron Rouge wine bar is a jumping part of the Marché d’Aligre scene, especially on weekends when it’s wall-to-wall people inside with lines and crowds outside. We were there on a Sunday and could barely squeeze through the mass of people to reach the zinc bar and order a glass of wine. It was soon apparent that the Baron Rouge ‘drill’ involves having one member of your party fight their way to the bar for wine, while another person stands in line outside for plates of raw oysters and French bread and another tries to grab a surface to use as a table for the wine glass and plate. Outside the bar, a man shucks oysters faster than you think possible. Watching him I worried about his poor digits getting sliced.

We did manage to find a classic Baron Rouge eating surface: the top of a garbage can. Others used a stack of crated bottles or the top of a parked car as a table. We vowed to return on a less popular day, and examine the wines more closely. Also, we’re coming back with empty bottles because you’re able to fill them from their wooden barrels and casks of fine wine. But it was a treat to experience the full Baron Rouge experience. The crowds were affable and they chatted amiably with strangers sharing their garbage can while an accordionist played and mingled amidst happy customers.

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Marché d’Aligre

We’ve defected from our local marché in the 10th arrondissement to the Marché d’Aligre in the 12th. It’s an old, quite historic market known for its good prices and high quality.

It grew up around the abbey of Saint-Antoine-des-Champs which dates back to the 12th century. Originally it was called the Petite Halle and leased to butchers until other vendors and hay merchants made inroads. A formal marché was created in 1781 and it sold a great deal of hay and straw for the horses of Paris. With the Revolution, the marché became property of the state. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, it was the second busiest market in Paris (after Les Halles).

There is an outdoor marché around Place d’Aligre. The Place and rue d’Aligre are crowded with stalls selling fruit and vegetables and flowers. The outdoor markets are run primarily by North Africans from Morocco, Tunesia and Algeria. Vendors call out “Un cadeau!” (a gift!) and “Un Kilo – un Euro!” (one kilo – one euro!) to the crowd and chat with each other in Arabic.

The covered marché, Beauvau, is a registered historical monument. Unlike the outdoor market, the stands here are more expensive and are not operated by North Africans. There is an old fountain inside, used to wash down and clean up when the market closes. Inside you’ll find meat, poultry, fish, cheese and prepared products.

Walking to and from the marché on weekends, you pass a delightful little park, Square Trousseau, with a children’s playground, bandstand, ping-pong tables and benches to sit amidst the foliage. Patisseries and boulangeries are conveniently located on the street lining the square and it’s a lovely place to eat a croissant and watch the children playing.

There is a flea market near the end of rue d’Aligre, operated mostly on weekends. We found cute little leather wallets there for 2 euros. Rue d’Aligre is also a street of traditional little shops with high end a high end cheese shop and a foi gras merchant.

Stay tuned tomorrow for the best 'added attraction' of Marché d’Aligre!

Manifestation

We left the apartment on Tuesday the 7th, heading for a museum, and ran smack into a demonstration (or ‘manifestation’ as they say in French) at Place de la République. First we saw a line of garbage trucks, then clots of police, then heard the loudspeaker thumpa-thumpa-thumpa of music. Next, festive groups of people with signs and posters appeared. At first I wasn’t sure if this was a concert or maybe a parade. Just goes to show the American perspective. But when we saw a large crowd following a banner (“It’s not better than nothing. It’s the worst of all!”), we finally realized it was a demonstration.

There were no materials delineating what was the worst. Clearly everyone else knew the issues and needed no explanations. It was also obvious that demonstrations happen all the time; the police and garbage men and traffic cops (‘circulation’) treated this as no biggie. We noticed this entrepreneurial guy selling baguettes from his homemade plastic bin.

We left for the Louvre as hordes of people were vomiting out of the metros. Later that day I discovered that this was one of 160 demonstrations across France against the CPE (Contrat première embauche) or First Hire Contract. This is a plan by Dominique de Villepin, France’s prime minister, in response to the riots in the suburbs last fall. Unemployment is very high in France, particularly for the young and there is a network of byzantine regulations regarding hiring and firing. Supposedly Villepin is trying to foster job creation for the young with this law which allows employers of more than 20 people to hire workers less than 26 years old in their first job with the ability to fire them at will in the first 2 years.

Pro-CPE forces see this as a softening in the rigid regulations that will encourage employers to take more risks and hire the young (they say it’s impossible to fire someone under the current system). Anti-CPE forces see this as the creation of a two-tier system which treats the young as second class workers and delays their ability to qualify for loans, mortgages and other critical measures requiring job stability. Meanwhile I will try to translate news stories of interviews with young job-seekers and frustrated employers and hopefully learn more about the issues involved.

Shopping Cathedral

Today I needed to visit a big Paris department store for a story I’m writing and chose Galeries Lafayette. Mon Dieu! It’s a fairytale city of shopping in a cathedral setting. As you approach, the building rises up like the Titanic.

Actually, it’s three buildings that swallow up a few blocks. Outside there are street vendors hugging the walls, selling all sorts of trinkets and doo-dads. I never made it past the main building. A shopper would have to camp out for a few weeks to cover the whole terrain. Not only do they sell everything you can imagine, but they have an extensive selection in each category of merchandise. They should offer GPS devices at the Welcome Counter, because it’s entirely possible to get lost here. Instead they feature a command center with maps in many languages, just like at the Louvre.

The building is composed of 9 floors (7 above the entry floor and one below) of stacked rings surrounding a vast central open area crowned by an enormous stained glass cupola. Each floor ‘ring’ is punctuated by art nouveau arcades resembling balconies in a grand opera house. You expect to see top-hatted gents and bejeweled and gowned ladies applauding tenors and sopranos. Only instead of opera divas, high-end cosmetic displays occupy downstage.

The cupola is breathtaking, like looking out through a giant’s jewelbox.

If you can take your eyes off the stained glass, a shopper can find all of life’s necessities. There’s a bank, a travel agency, ATM’s, hair salons, spa, souvenir store, 14 restaurants (including a champagne bar, Maxim’s and a special restaurant for kids), full bridal services and registry, a huge floor of children’s wear, baby registry, post office, fashion shows, shoe repair, computers/electronics, a well-stocked bookstore, and everything from furs to furniture. Not to mention the complete gourmet shop. A person could live well indeed inside Galeries Lafayette.

I finished my day in this consumer cathedral by visiting their little exhibit on the history of corsets. In case you missed it:

The Metro

It's the little things I'm enjoying most. Case in point: my monthly metro pass, la Carte d'Orange. First, you must purchase an I.D. photo, available at handy spots in the large metro stations (four photos for four euros). They're similar to the photo booths of olden days at Woolworth's and other five and dime stores in the US - only instead of spitting out a long strip of four photos you receive a 2 by 2 square. Plus, the Paris metro booths have more options for refusing photos you don't like. Not that I've had a DMV, passport or other ID photo taken of me that I've ever liked.

Gare de l'Est metro station was out of the cards when we asked for them (at least that's what we thought the cashier was saying) but the next station fixed us right up with our ID card, re-usable ticket and dandy plastic holder. Now we feel like genuine Paris metro commuters. As long as we don't look in the mirror.

Les Marchés

We are busy setting up household in our Paris apartment rental. It's even better than it appeared in the photos. Every room has at least one large window (and the living room/dining room has a full windowed wall). The bathroom and kitchen are narrow but well-appointed and they function extremely well.

Our first job: stocking the pantry. We visited near-by Marché Saint Quentin. This covered market is in the style of Baltard, who designed the old umbrella like pavilions of Les Halles, Paris' grand marketplace that was torn down in the sixties and replaced by a modern shopping center. Cast iron trusses support its wooden roof and tall arches of glass flood the interior with light.

We strolled from stand to stand, examining unusual cuts of meat

(note the veal head, tête de veau, on the right next to the veal cloven hoof)

and artfully arranged seafood. Behold the coiled eel under the octopus!

We bought mache, lamb's ear lettuce, that is difficult to grow in factory farms. It's available in the US, but usually at foodie snob prices.

The sausage variety should supply us for months. We tried a couple types, but not those in the photo below.
Crotte is the term for animal droppings. There's a campaign in Paris encouraging citizens to pick up their pooch's poop.

Even the local supermarket had its share of surprises. Look at the rabbit meal (lapin) availabe for this doggie.

And many stores keep certain items in locked glass cabinets. So I wasn't shocked to see the whiskey and large cans of crab meat protected away from potential pilferers. But why are the deodorants, scotch tape and razor blades locked up?

Aaah....more mysteries of Paris to uncover.....

Les Femmes sont arrivées à Paris!

Iz and I had to change our San Francisco plane at Chicago. We entered the new gate area at O'Hare and left behind the smell of Cinna-bons and sauerkraut to join the happy throng waiting to fly to Paris. Outside the boarding gate: oversized Midwesterners in loud clothes and loud voice. Inside the gate; a school group of French 15 year olds returning from an English language immersion stay with Minneapolis families. There wasn't an awkward kid in the bunch; they were all adorable and chatted among themselves with an easy grace and quiet elegance. Their teacher, an immpossibly handsome young man, commented to us that you can always tell when a group of American teens are around: they're boistrous and occupy more physical space.

The other passengers were infinitely more interesting than on the SF to Chicago leg of the trip: noticably slimmer and sleaker, their visages more complex and intriguing with Gallic noses and angular coiffures. They wore simple but well-cut clothes, the women in flirty little skirts and often wearing striking accent jewelry or a signsture piece (like the lady with lacquer red eyeglass frames. You had the feeling you could sit next to almost anyone and discover an interesting personnage full of flair and savoir-faire.

Of course, then we boarded and were marched past the deluxe first class sleeping bunks with built-in amenities and leg room for even the tallest passenger. We were filed to the back of the airbus bearing our carry-ons like Sherpas and threaded into narrow slots hardly deserving the title of 'seats'. You had to keep your elbows close to your sides or risk poking your neighbor. We were veritable cigarettes stuffed into packs and snugged into cartons so we wouldn't be able to move. The contents of the overhead bins may have shifted during flight, but the passengers certainly couldn't.

But who cared! We were going to Paris. It was especially exciting to be able to understand the snatches of French conversation we overheard. Wonderful word discoveries abound. See the photo below. The toilet flusher is the water that chases the you-know-what out of the bowl.