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This cute pooch is brought to you courtesy of the region of Burgundy. He had only three legs and was touring the canal of Mailly-la-ville with his owner. Check out how beautiful it is along the canal! The canal is a popular area for touring via small, barge-like houseboats called pénichettes. More about this area of Bourgogne in future posts.
Even the news-anchors in Paris look different! Off the shoulder blouse...Can you imagine such a sexily attired news-anchor in the US?
Thanks to Kristin Espinasse’s blog, I was able to call out, “Ouistiti!” (pronounced wee-stee-tee) instead of “Say Cheese!” when taking pictures of these charming French-American siblings, Morgan and Steven. According to Kristin, this is the traditional pre-photo command in France. Your lips assume a semi-smile when saying the “wee” in ouistiti. A ouistiti is some type of South American lemur or monkey.
When visiting the Tour Eiffel with Steven and his entourage of grown-ups, I was surprised to see this sign on the first platform:
On January 15, Illustration magazine reported: “…the experiment of a young building painter, Mr. Paul Cans, who concocted an ingenious device to move up and down a smooth rope as easily and safely as one would on a staircase. Going by the name of “ouistiti”, the apparatus is a pocket staircase; the inventor demonstrated its advantages by hoisting himself up to the first platform of the Eiffel Tower (187 feet) with the greatest of ease in just a few minutes.”
(Click on the photo of the sign to better see the rope ‘staircase’.)
A quick net search revealed a device called a Petzl Ouistiti as the only current remnant of the Tour Eiffel ouistiti variant. It’s a climbing harness for 4 to 9 year old children, designed to buckle at the rear, so only adults can unlock them. Do you think 4-year-old toddlers really go rock climbing? Or is this just a cover name for a harness that parents at their wit’s ends can use to leash up unruly children? Is it so named because of its Tour Eiffel ‘pocket staircase’ precursor or because kids climb around like little lemurs? Inquiring minds want to know.
Paris may have Sanisettes all over the city, but the poor Parisian doggies can't push the button to get in and use them. There are signs all over the city urging residents to pick up after their pooches. "I love my neighborhood. I pick up." And right under these same signs you see evidence that Paris dogs might be bien élevé (well-behaved, well-raised), but their owners aren't.
Paris is an amazingly clean city. Street sweepers work every day of the week. And there are public toilets available on streets all over the city (420 of them). Until February of this year it cost 40 centimes (euro) to use one, but now they are accés gratuit (free!). According to an aide to the Paris mayor, the change was not done to help tourists (“Tourists do not have a problem paying”) but “to help everyone”.
The toilets are known by their brand name: Sanisettes. They’re made by JC Decaux, the same company that makes the advertising display systems all over Paris. The Sanisettes are high tech and resemble a Star Trek device. Instructions are written in French on the outside, but getting into them is no problem if you don’t speak French. There is a red sign stating occupe if a person is inside or if someone has recently left but the unit is still cleaning itself. A big arrow points to a button. Push it and when the sanisette is libre (free) (or after completing its cleaning cycle) it will open. The stainless steel door slides open robotically and you enter an excretory space capsule. Floor sensors detect your presence and automatically seal the door. Don’t worry about sitting on the bowl with wet droplets; it’s just been sanitized and disinfected. There is plenty of toilet paper. After finishing, you’ll note a running stream of water in a little opening behind you. Put your hands inside and you’ll be squirted with soap and you can wash. A blow dryer comes on automatically for the grand ending. There is a door handle inside so you can exit when you want to, but it will open in 15 minutes, ready or not. After you leave the unit, the door will close and you’ll hear whooshing and mechanical noises as it washes away all residue of your visit.
Caution: don’t leave small children alone in a Sanisette. The floor sensors require a certain weight to prevent the automatic cleaning cycle from triggering.
There is talk of designing a more attractive unit and supplementing it with an outside tap for drinking water. See my previous post on Wallace Fountains for a discussion on the importance of public drinking water. With all the homeless people living on our streets in the great cities of the US, and the large numbers of tourists in the same places, why haven’t we undertaken such a common sense measure? How many toilets could we provide with the cost of one day of the War in Iraq?
Dog on duty guarding his Tabac.
I passed a couple of these highwater markers on Paris buildings near Musée d’Orsay and, since it’s been raining and flooding in Sonoma County California, I thought those readers might be interested in the Inondation of Paris in 1910.
Paris was a very modern city at the turn of the last century. Six lines of the metro had opened by the beginning of 1910. Streetlights were gas illuminated and 60 to 70,000 Parisian homes had gas and electricity. The electrical system ran underground through the subway lines. A system of compressed air controlled 58,000 clocks and 4,000 elevators in Paris. Most buildings had sewer service and there was daily garbage pickup. So when all the clocks stopped simultaneously at ten minutes to eleven on Friday, January 21, 1910 because the station that powered them with compressed air was flooded, Parisians were surprised. An eyewitness account noted:
Crowds, it is true, had gathered on the embankments, admiring the headlong rush of the silent yellow river that carried with it logs and barrels, broken furniture, the carcasses of animals, and perhaps sometimes a corpse, all racing madly to the sea; they had watched cranes, great piles of stones, and the roofs of sheds emerge for a time from the flooded wharves and then vanish in the swirl of the rising water, while barges and pontoons, generally dissen from sight far below, rose gradually above the level of the streets, notably one great two-storied bathing barge, a vision of unsuspected hideousness, that threatened at any moment, triply moored as it was, to crash into the parapet.
…From visits to out-lying districts I retain a vague impression of thick black slime, abject shivering misery and great lakes of yellow water, with here and there the upper story of a house rising like an island from the desolate waste.
The Seine flowed through the Gare d’Orsay (now Musée d’Orsay) creating a two block long swimming pool that submerged the trains and engines.
The unfinished Metro tunnels and stations were flooded. Basements of the Louvre (with stored artworks) were threatened. Traffic was eventually stopped on the nine bridges between Pont Neuf and Pont de Grenelle.
The waters stopped rising on January29 and pumps of all sizes and types were brought in to help drain Paris. Authorities believe that Paris is still vulnerable to flooding today, if not more so, because of building in the danger zones (including hospitals and schools). Sounds similar to California, doesn’t it?
In contrast to Le Rouvray, this is a more ‘American’ style quilt shop. It’s located in the 11th arrondissement, not a tourist quartier at all. The customers were all local Parisiennes on the day of my visit. Inès carries typical French floral prints, but also novelty, Japanese and other fabrics more commonly seen in the US. In fact, I found panels featuring border collies that I bought to make placemats for my friend Donna who has a beloved border collie named Lily. There is a good selection of French quilting books with modern designs and Provençal, Marseillais and other traditional techniques. The volume of quilting notions and accessories made me miss my Bernina and want to hit the old machine à coudre* asap.
*sewing machine
Le Rouvray was first an historic French farm whose building foundations date back to the Middle Ages, then an antique emporium in the same location in Normandy and now is a renowned quilt store in Paris. Owner Diane de Obaldia’s journey to founding the first quilt store in France is as interesting and complex as a fine patchwork quilt.
She discovered quilts as a child via her Tennessee grandmother. After college in Michigan, she entered the world of design, initially as a stylist, then as an haut couture model. She traveled throughout Europe, met Coco Chanel, and worked in the House of Dior and with Pierre Cardin.
Love and marriage brought her to the farm in Normandy (rouvre means ‘oak’ in old French). While there, she began searching for French antiques, at first for decorator friends, later for her own shop. She brightened the walls of her antique shop with American patchwork quilts.
After an exhibit of antique quilts at Musée des Arts décoratifs created a sensation in the 1970’s, she decided to open Le Rouvray in Paris. The store is right across the Seine from Notre Dame in the Latin Quarter on a charming rue in a 17th century building (also near Shakespeare and Company Bookstore). It specializes in French style fabrics and has a good selection of Provençal prints and toile de Jouy. They also carry a line of Free Spirit Fabrics featuring Le Rouvray designs. This historic shop is a must-see for quilters and fabric lovers who visit or live in Paris.
Ever since I first saw this oddly-shaped, oddly-named pastry in the local pâtisseries, I’ve been curious about it. There are several versions of its history on the internet and I'd be interested if you’ve heard of any others.
Version #1. It was created by Stohrer’s, a famous pâtisserie at 51 rue Montorgueil which dates back to 1730. Stohrer was originally the pastry chef to the King of Poland, but was brought to Paris when the King’s daughter married Louis XV. After leaving the court at Versailles, he opened his own shop on rue Montorgueil.
Version #2. It was so named because it resembles a nun in her habit. (not any nuns I've ever seen!)
Version #3. It was invented in Paris in 1540 by Panterelli, Catherine de Medici’s chef and originally called pâte à Panterelli. Later its name was changed to pâte à Popelini. Popelins were a kind of Middle Ages cake in the shape of women’s breasts. Later pâtissiers perfected it into its ‘religieuse’ incarnation.
Version #4. It’s all because of a nun’s fart. A group of Alsacien nuns at Marmoutier Abbey were in the kitchen preparing a feast. One of the nun’s farted, causing the other nuns to burst out laughing at which point one of them dropped some pastry into hot oil and Voila! They have also been called pet de nonne (nun’s farts), ‘wind beignets’, and soupir de nonne (nun’s sighs)
Guess which version I prefer!
For those who like to bake, here’s a recipe.
For myself, I think I’ll visit Stohrer’s and try their version (the photo above is that of my local pâtisserie’s religieuse).
I like the famous sights of Paris: the Louvre, Eiffel Tower, the Seine, etc., but I'm most enjoying the quiet unexpected little moments. Like this kitty and his sign urging passers-by not to disturb him because he's sleeping. Apparently he's always sleeping.
It's warm; it hardly rains anymore. The bushes are blooming; tulips are outside the florist shops. Winter coats are too heavy to wear and lightweight garb is appearing. The metro has a company's advertisement proclaiming that "In springtime, our offers wake up even the groundhogs". Another window encourages you to "Smile, you're tan!" (a not so subtle hint to do something about those white legs?)
No, not really. Just entertaining friends and a bout of asthma. Today is another Mardi Noir (Black Tuesday) of strikes, or so they are labelling it in the newspapers. The high schools and colleges have been on strike for some time and the government, transit and other unions joined in today.
There was a fuschia banner at my metro stop today announcing that the Lycée Delacroix was en lutte (in the struggle). I tried to imagine a US high school named after an artist (Andy Warhol High? Jaspar Johns Academy?).
The Place de la République metro stop was flush with riot police (the CRS), RATP Sécurité, and even a German Shepherd police dog wearing a heavily studded and nasty looking black leather muzzle. The garbagemen were all lined up ready to clean up after the manifestation (demonstration) was over.
The manif had the same festive, carnival atmosphere I've seen in the other demonstrations since I've been here, complete with music and food.
And one of the things I like most here is that little dogs go everywhere: restaurants, the metro, stores, on escalators, and even to manifestations.
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