Three Weeks Without a Cell Phone

Tags

loss of cell phone, theft of iphone, theft of mobile, without a mobile phone

Jared R. arrived from Boston on Sunday afternoon with my replacement iPhone, marking the end of three full weeks in Paris without a mobile phone. My phone was insured, with overnight delivery, but, it turns out, only to a U.S. address. I elected to wait until Jared arrived to avoid the further risks entailed with trying to have it shipped internationally. While there have been a few awkward moments the experience has been surprisingly tolerable, and even somewhat liberating.

In the early years of my petits séjours in Paris I would buy a French SIM card to give me a local phone number, but I wouldn’t pay the inordinate charges for wireless data. I would carry my regular smartphone as well as the Frenchified phone so I could use the Internet when I was connected to wifi. The smart phone also allowed me to use a map application that would use GPS even without an Internet connection, but to search the web or access most apps I would have to find wifi. The consequence was a bit like traveling through a desert from oasis to oasis.

Lacking a smartphone altogether wasn’t like this, however. It was more like the days before cell phones, when you had to make plans by “land line,” then rely on maps and actual brains to get where you wanted to go. I did have a computer and an iPad at home, so I could surf, text and call normally from there. But when I stepped out the door I was out of touch, except for the information of my five senses. There were drawbacks, which I’ll describe next, but the lack of digital distractions was downright exhilirating. (Not to mention the fact that I no longer had to worry about some pickpocket stealing my mobile phone.)

• Telephone and Text: The lack of any form of mobile communication required careful coordination and planning before I left home, unless I was with someone who did have a phone, which was often the case. I could have lugged my iPad around and staggered between wifi spots but I never did. There were only a few instances where this created problems:
  • One significant issue arose when the gilets jaunes delayed both Zhizhong and me from a rendezvous at the Petit Palais. I was late and he was later but we had no way to tell each other. Fortunately we found one other and had a lovely afternoon. (We had neglected to agree on a backup in case the Petit Palais was closed, which would have been far worse.)
  • The bus made me quite late for dinner last week with Ali, but I had warned him and he was patient, so it wasn’t a big deal.
  • Ironically, the worst problem was when Jared arrived from Boston. It turned out that our doorbell doesn’t work, and he relies on wifi, so he had to go across the street to tell me he was here. I went downstairs but didn’t see him (where of course I couldn’t get his messages), then came back up and found a further message saying he was having lunch at a nearby restaurant. I joined him and all was fine, but it’s funny that the big issue was just a few feet from the apartment.
• Camera. A flâneur has to take pictures to share the experience with his friends (and, tbh, to make them jealous)! Luckily, I carry a high quality portable camera (a Canon S120), so I could still record my Paris life. If I hadn’t had a separate camera I would have been truly bereft at the loss of my phone. I did miss the ability to make panoramic photos, but I’m making up for lost time now.
• Google Maps. I had paper maps (one from home and one free from the métro), and I know Paris pretty well, so navigation wasn’t a problem. What I did miss was the ability to get route recommendations on the fly. I would get an itinerary from home, then take a picture of the iPad screen with my camera, but to get home or go somewhere else I would have to use the subway map and my noggin. This worked fine in Paris but it would have been more challenging, in, say, Bangkok.†

Who needs a smart phone when you can navigate with a map?

• Uber. I never wanted to call an Uber during these three weeks, but I was acutely aware that I wouldn’t have been able to. Paris is well supplied with taxis, so it wouldn’t have been an issue in the busier areas, but if I’d been trying to get home late at night from some remote quarter I might have felt quite unhappy.
• Translation. I know French well enough to get around. There were a few moments when a friend looked something up to resolve a subtle point, and once or twice I wasn’t sure what something on the menu was, but there was nothing I felt any burning desire to translate. This could be quite different for someone who didn’t know the local language.
• Social Networking Apps. I had them at home but it was a pleasure not to be bothered by them when I was out and about. I’m interested in enduring friendships, not hookups, so I didn’t miss anything.
• The Fork / La Fourchette. Several times in the first month I used this app to reserve a restaurant on the fly, and I have continued to use it from home. I earned 10 euros (count them!) at the end of May through the site and I’m close to another reward. Paris has so many good restaurants, however, that it’s falling down easy to find one wherever you are. I was sad not to be able to play this game away from the house but it was no big deal.
• FlashInvaders. One of the biggest impacts was highly personal. For the last three years I have enjoyed adding to my collection of little (sometimes big!) street artworks by Space Invader. A photo has to be taken with the app on a location aware cell phone, however, so all I could do these past three weeks was to snap the location with my camera, with a view to going back later with my cell phone. There are, however, 1,407 artworks in Paris, of which I have snapped only 108. So my plan now is just to snap the ones I see while going somewhere interesting rather than forcing myself back to the ones I ran across during my cell phone hiatus.
• Pokemon Go. For 18 months I was addicted (instead?) to Pokemon Go, but fortunately I have been clean and sober for more than a year so the inability to chase those imaginary pocket monsters wasn’t an issue.

The theft of the cell phone also gave rise to many practical issues, mostly concerning second factor authentication. Fortunately I had anticipated and provided for many of these issues so recovery in this area was almost seamless. I’ll post separately about this, however, since it’s really quite different from the day to day lack of a mobile phone.

Assessment

This year’s Paris visit was very good, but also very different from my previous petits séjours.

The family parts of my visit were deeply rewarding. While I’ve spent time with family members on previous long stays — principally cousins Lisa, BJ and Brian — this was the first time, since my much shorter 2008 trip with my nephew Andy, that I’ve actually stayed in Paris with family: for eleven days at the start of the trip with cousins Jackie, Lisa and Aya, and almost a week at the end of May with Andy. I also had meals and an outing with Brian and his wife Sheila, as well as, after they left, an apéro with their (now our) friends Rick and Cheryl. It was the first time in my adult life I’ve shared a household with my cousins, apart from a short visit to Boston by Lisa and Aya a couple of years ago, and the first time that I’ve helped look after a four-year-old. Andy’s visit was very nostalgic for both of us, since it was the first trip we’ve taken together since our eleven-day trip to Paris ten years ago, when he was fifteen. He proved to be an avid flâneur and art enthusiast as well as a fan of planes, trains, space flight and gadgets. As I analyzed in my post Where is the Journey?, I realized this year that time with family and friends can itself be a satisfying “journey” whether or not physical travel is involved.

This was also the first time that none of my gay friends was scheduled to stay with me, although Stan and Q did crash for a couple of nights (as an “expected surprise”) and I took a three-day trip to Strasbourg with Zhizhong. Apart from my always-reliable friends Zhizhong and Elliot, the gay friends I have made here in prior years were either away or busy. The only time I set foot in a gay bar was one Sunday afternoon at Rosa Bonheur, and I only met two guys through social networking apps. The half dozen dinners I had with Theseus were enjoyable enough, but I realized from the start that he offered no possibility of an enduring friendship so in a larger sense it was a waste of time. The upshot was that this was by far the least gay of my long Paris stays. This was due in large part to my mood, but also to some extent because I was happily busy with family for much of my stay. Not, on balance, a drawback, but certainly a difference.

The apartments were excellent, apart from the problem with hot water in the shower of my second place (and the quickly-fixed gas leak). The second apartment’s rooftop location might have made it an oven in hot weather but every night during my stay was cool enough for sleep, and the superb cross-ventilation brought the cool air inside. The first apartment was in the remote 15ème, which proved surprisingly comfortable but a somewhat daunting 45-minute métro ride into the center; I was happy from that perspective to move to the central 2ème. Both apartments were rented through Airbnb, which avoided brokerage fees although it added smaller cleaning and overhead fees. As I noted before the trip, unregistered Airbnb’s are under legal attack, so it may become harder, and more expensive, to rent short-term in Paris.

Weather overall was just ok. There were some beautiful days but there were thunderstorms almost every afternoon and on the whole it was unusually cool. My conclusion is that there are no definite patterns to spring weather in Paris, except that I still consider June the safest month.

I averaged seven miles of walking per day — about twice my average at home — as usual for my Paris stays. I neither gained nor lost weight, also typical. I didn’t swim or go to the gym this year, partially because walking seems to maintain my fitness but also due to simple laziness. I was also somewhat deterred by how busy the many Parisian pools often seem to be. Another year I would hope to find an accessible pool that I could use at some quieter time of day.

In all my visits I’ve never once taken a class! This is primarily due to laziness, but also a desire to keep my time open for taking advantage of opportunities as they arise. Another year I hope I can motivate myself to take a cooking course and/or a French course.

After I realized all the cool stuff I was missing in the latter part of June I seriously considered extending my stay to the end of the month. I eventually decided to stick with my June 11 departure date because of attractions in Boston and the fact that I felt ready to head home. But another year I will try to include all of June in my stay, whether the overall visit is six or eight weeks. My previous pattern of the first two weeks of May somewhere else in Europe followed by six weeks in Paris still appeals.

As usual, I had good meals, saw a lot of stimulating art, and enjoyed exploring the endlessly interesting nooks and crannies of the city. Blogging every few days took quite a lot of time but continues to be a key facet of my petits séjours in Paris.

The dollar had weakened dramatically over the past two years, so this was a considerably more expensive trip than in 2016. My personal finances continue to be strong enough, however, that I really don’t care.

I would certainly consider another long stay in Paris, although I would also be open to trying the pattern in another city, or returning to Tokyo.

Mid-Course

Tags

Alcohol, apartments, art, Bob Seeman, drinking, food, galette, grêle, hail, L'Equipe Poster, meals, Paris, street art, Theseus, weather

The midpoint of my stay is a good time to look at how the trip has been, and what my goals are for my remaining time here.

The dominant theme of the trip has been — and with the arrival of my nephew next weekend will continue to be — family. While this is very different from prior years, I’ve come to realize, as I explored in my previous post, that time with family and friends, while it dilutes my engagement with the place, can itself be every bit as rewarding as being a solitary flâneur.

The difference shouldn’t be overemphasized, since spending time with friends has always been a facet of my petits séjours. For example, I’ve caught up with Bob Seeman, almost every year.

2018 Lunch at le Rusti with Bob Seeman and fellow doctor Faouzi Madi

Bob and I have known each other for around twenty years, while I’ve known my cousin Jackie since we were children. That makes a difference, but in both cases we’ve had a chance to become intimate friends over a substantial portion of a lifetime. The main difference is that Jackie and I shared an apartment for ten days (and have gotten together several times since), while I normally just catch up with Bob for a meal. That pattern isn’t fundamentally different from prior years, though, since I’ve always had friends staying with me for around a week. It just happens this year that my housemates will mostly be family.

Food has been an important and satisfactory part of the trip, as always. I’ve posted “food porn” from some of my fancier meals — and there’s more to come from Strasbourg — but I’ve also enjoyed more modest meals, either at home with my cousins in the 15ème, or at familiar local restaurants in the 2ème. The dishes shown below are from places just a few doors down on my street, and there are a dozen comparable options within a couple of blocks.

Perfect tuna galette from Delices de la Lune, 38 rue Poissionière

Shrimp noodle dish from Woking, 32 rue Poissionière

The closest thing to an art museum I’ve been to in Paris was the astounding au dela de les limites exhibition, but I’ve visited several galleries and appreciated lots of street art. One resolution is to take in even more art in the latter part of my stay.

Street art in Paris

The gallerist at Galerie Jacques Lévy (very probably the eponymous owner) refused permission for me to post pics, but I invite you to take a look at the works of Olivier Marty currently on view there.

The weather was terrible the day I arrived, then got steadily better over the ten days I spent in the 15ème. About the time I moved to my own place it got wet and cold again and stayed that way for the first week. Last weekend was quite nice in Strasbourg but all afternoon today there have been thunderstorms (with hail!). Update: I enjoyed the dramatic hailstorm from the comfort and safety of my apartment, but I had no idea that elsewhere in the city there was flooding and dense accumulations of hailstones on the streets!

My French is pretty much stalled, but I nevertheless enjoy deciphering cultural references and picking up on jeux de mots.

« Aïe ou hante English » (Hint: say it out loud.)

« Mais oui tu es beau ! » More or less…

This poster in the métro is a veritable mine of up-to-the-minute cultural information. I can more or less parse out most of the links, but I’m sure I’m missing many funny references.

A chart demonstrating that basically everything points to a sport, and all sports point to L’Equipe magazine.

The handwriting that looks like graffiti is actually part of the joke. For example: “mamie Ginette is sweet. She makes us cookies. But one doesn’t much like it when she kisses us on the cheeks because she scratches.”

I didn’t walk quite as much as usual during the first part of the month, in part because you simply can’t move that fast when you’re traveling with a four-year-old (even when she’s on a scooter). But Zhizhong and I walked all over Strasbourg, so when that’s factored in I’m now right at my usual Paris average of seven miles a day.

Alcohol has always been a substantial part of my Paris stays, but this year my consumption has been a lot less than usual. Jackie, Zhizhong and “Theseus” don’t drink at all, and as a mother of a young child Lisa now drinks even more moderately than before. I’ve usually managed a glass of wine or beer with dinner, and sometimes found an excuse for an extra drink, but have only once or twice exceeded the approved level of two drinks a day (which was occasionally exceeded many times over in prior years). It’s still possible that I may fall under the influence of hard-drinking family or friends, but so far I’ve been surprisingly sober.

I’ve often met guys on “social media” apps during my stays here. Two years ago, the last time I was here, Omar made an outstanding contribution to my visit. This year I’ve only met one guy, who I’ll call Theseus. He’s a 22-year-old student, of Chinese ethnicity, very fit and cute. He’s been my dining companion on several occasions where the blog has mentioned a “we” without a name. He’s forbidden me to post his photo or further information, and this is only one of several mismatches between our values and goals. He’s been an attractive and mostly agreeable companion on several occasions, despite our really irreconcilable differences.

Overall I’ve had a good time this year. Both apartments have been wonderful, despite the minor issues with my current place. The shift from adventure to coziness has continued, but there have been a few peak experiences and many rich and intimate conversations.

June 11, when I leave, will be my earliest departure since the first year, 2010, when I stayed for April and May. So many cool things are scheduled for the remainder of June that I looked into extending my stay another two weeks. Changing my Delta/Air France ticket would be punishingly expensive but abandoning that reservation and coming home on a one-way Norwegian ticket would be reasonable. My current host would let me extend at the discounted monthly rate until June 20, but she has other guests then so I would have to get another place for the last week. Ultimately, however, responsibilities and opportunities back home caused me to stick with the original schedule. Another year, however, I will stay at least until afterla fête de la musiqueon June 21, and perhaps through Paris gay pride, this year on June 30.

Mot du jour: beue. Not in Larousse, but Google shows it as patois picard for boue, i.e. mud.

Bonus Mot du jour: grêle, hail.

Where is the Journey?

During my travels I have often asked myself a question: “Where is the Journey?” This arose from two ideas: The fact that it’s possible to go to a foreign country yet remain cocooned in hotels or tours that replicate your home country, and, on the other hand, Thoreau’s famous comment that he had “travelled much in Concord.” Moving from place to place isn’t itself particularly important; you can see sights on TV. The important thing about travel is that it creates the opportunity to have new experiences and challenge yourself, to explore the rich possibilities of your own life through novel perceptions and interactions. Moving from place to place doesn’t guarantee that this will happen. I ask the question to remind myself to go on a journey rather than just taking a trip.

My petits séjours in Paris have almost always qualified as journeys, even though my increasing familiarity with life here has greatly reduced the elements of surprise and challenge that were important features of my early stays. The unique aspect of this year’s stay, however, revealed an important facet of the concept that I have been groping towards but hadn’t previously articulated. My Paris visits have usually started alone, then included friends after a week or so, but this year my first ten days were en famille, with three generations of cousins. I knew this would be very different, but I’m extremely fond of my adult cousins and was fascinated (and, tbh, a bit terrified) by the prospect of living with a four-year-old. While my engagement with Paris itself was muted and buffered to some extent, the profound interactions with my cousins more than compensated.

With Family, Life is Beautiful!

I had previously been aware of the tremendous difference between time alone in Paris and time with friends. When you’re with someone much or most of your attention is on them, conversing, coordinating, and seeing the surroundings through their eyes. The place itself can recede into context, or even background, to the interpersonal aspect. For a lone flâneur, however, there’s nothing except one’s own perceptions and thoughts. In the best of times, when you’re “in the flow,” your thoughts themselves recede and you become a pure observer.

What I hadn’t realized is this: a person is very like a foreign country: vast, incompletely explored, unpredictable, potentially rewarding … and sometimes frustrating. Time spent engaging with other people can be every bit as much of a “journey” as time spent in a foreign land. The first ten days this year were distinctly in Paris, but interacting with my cousins and their friends was at least as important as experiencing the city.

The way you relate to your travel companion(s) is also key. If you don’t give them your attention, or if they don’t open up to you, there can be no interpersonal “journey” at all. You can end up with little compensation for the overhead of coordinating and compromising. But if there is trust and mutual interest there can be a journey of adventure and discovery in the personal sphere that rivals that in space and time.

Thoreau reminds us of yet another facet of this concept: the ultimate journey is the discovery of one’s own self. A traveler who doesn’t learn more about who he is and what he wants might as well stay home.

Perhaps we should ask some version of “Where is the Journey?” whether we’re traveling or not. Are our interactions with people, places and our own selves rich and creative, or are we staying in safe and familiar patterns? Are we awake and aware, or are we sleep walking through our own lives?

Last Tango in Paris?

Tags

Andy, apartments, Brian, France, Lisa, Montorgueil, Paris, rue Montorgueil, Zhizhong

I’m leaving for Paris in a few hours on another petit séjour! Six weeks this year, the first ten days with my cousin Lisa and her daughter Aya in the 15ème and the rest on rue Poissonnière — just a few blocks above my beloved rue Montorgueil — in the 2ème. I’ll be in Paris until June 11.

This will be the most family-oriented of all my long stays. After Lisa and Aya leave my cousin Brian and his wife Sheila will be in Paris the following week, and my nephew Andy will be staying with me for the last week in May. Other friends will also be passing through, and possibly crashing with me, so it won’t be too solitary a visit. Not to mention Parisian friends such as Zhizhong, who has proposed a long weekend road trip in early May.

This year for the first time I’m using Airbnb instead of Paris brokers, such as Paris Attitude. I’ve had good luck with Airbnb elsewhere, including for six weeks in Tokyo last year. It’s a treat to avoid the punishing broker’s fee, and infinitely more convenient to pay by credit card rather than having to bring cash for both rent (converted to euros) and deposit. The real issue is the legal challenge that the City of Paris is making against illegal short-term rentals, whether through brokers or Airbnb. This has been a lurking issue since I started my long stays, but has now become focused in a lawsuit that could force Airbnb to remove 2/3 of its Paris listings. That reduction in supply could push short-term rents through the roof. Will this be my Last Tango in Paris?

I’ve written before about the Sweet Sorrow of leaving Paris at the end of one of my long stays, but in fact there’s a similar feeling as I prepare to leave home for such a long time. Tearing myself away from familiar routines has been a purpose of these trips since the beginning. Paris has increasingly become a home away from home, so the element of daring (always somewhat spurious) has largely evaporated. But the interruption in my Boston/Cambridge life is the same. I’ll be back in just a few weeks, inshallah, but winding things up and saying farewells is nevertheless slightly tinged with sadness. As I get older the resonance with a final departure — to a hospital or hospice from which I may or will not return — becomes stronger. This isn’t a problem, however. Rather it’s the flip side of my enjoyment of my regular Boston life, which it’s one of the goals of the trip to remind me of. And this little twinge takes nothing from the thrill of heading back for another long stay in the City of Light.

 

 

Last Days

Tags

art, contemporary art, France, Guillaume, MAC-VAL, meals, Paris, Vitry-sur-Seine, Zhizhong

My last few days this year — Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday — were more of a denouement than a peak. I had no house guests, and my only social events were a play and an impromptu dinner party at my apartment on Wednesday night. I did see two good art museums, but mostly just walked around, did a lot of blogging and reading, bought a few gifties, finally sent my postcards, etc. I have often remarked that a trip is too short if you aren’t ready when it’s time to go home; this year I’m ready.

My first art outing was to the Grand Palais to see their Amadeo de Souza-Cardoso show: discussed in my previous post.

On Wednesday I trekked out to yet another banlieue, Vitry-sur-Seine, to see (for the first time) the contemporary art museum of Val de Marne, MAC-VAL. It takes a solid hour to get there, the first half on the métro and the second half by bus. I learned by harsh experience that you don’t buy a ticket to Vitry-sur-Seine — that works only on the métro and RER — you just use one normal métro ticket for each leg of the journey. I’ll put up a photo set eventually, but here’s a clip of one of my favorite pieces:

Wednesday evening Zhizhong and I saw a student production, Dom Juan 2016, at the charming Théâtre Adyar in the 7ème. The students themselves were very easy on the eyes, and their energy and intensity was admirable, but both Zhizhong and I found the French challenging. We could follow the overall concept but the details and jokes were often lost on us. After the show we met up with Guillaume and pulled together a last-minute dinner at my apartment. I’m happy to report that at the end of the evening I was still sober enough to stagger the length of the apartment into bed.

Zhizhong and Guillaume at an impromptu dinner at my 2016 apartment, on my last night in Paris!

Thursday morning I cleaned, packed, and — for you, gentle reader — blogged.

Last Weekend

Tags

16mm, 2015 by Nicholas Delprat, 2016 by Béranger Laymond, Ali, Anti-terrorism teams, Army teams, art, banlieue, Béranger Laymond, bidonville, bouche à oreille, bouchon d'oreille, Canal Saint-Denis, Censier–Daubenton, contemporary art, Foodi, Foyer Vietnam, France, Galerie les Yeux Fertiles, Grand Train, Guillaume, Jacques Carelman, Jacques Prévert, language, Le Grand Train, Lemon, Lina's, Lisa, Louvre, Marais, meals, Montorgueil, neighborhoods, Nicholas Delprat, Palais Royal, Paris, racism, raton, raton-laveur, Reliefs, RER Control, Roma, rue Montorgueil, Rue Mouffetard, Saint-Denis, shantytown, soldiers, Submachine guns, We Can Control Space, Zhizhong, Zongzi

These past two years my cousin Lisa — so big a part of my Paris experience in earlier years! — has been in Uganda working on her Ph.D. She’s still looking after me, however, and she suggested a dinner with our mutual friends Ali and Zhizhong. We met at my place on Friday evening for an apéro, then ate at nearby Foodi, where I had dined my first night in Paris this year.

Ali, Zhizhong and me on our way to dinner.

There was a snafu about our reservation — I’ve found that smaller restaurants often don’t notice last-minute reservations made through the Fork — but we just had to kill half an hour at Hoppy, and then could be seated.

Zhizhong and me at Foodi (photo credit, Ali)

Ali and I had bento boxes, but Zhizhong was thrilled to get a traditional Chinese dish, Zongzi. In a beloved legend packets of rice were thrown into a river to distract fish from eating the body of a hero.

Zhizhong’s Zongzi Traditionnelle at Foodi

Ali headed home after dinner but Zhizhong and I got into a deep conversation, mostly about the opportunities, challenges and temptations of his new job. He’s working like crazy, but also coming into contact with upper levels of French business and society that raise all sorts of interesting questions. We used to have conversations like this back in Cambridge while he was working on his Ph.D., but this is the first really long talk we’ve had in the 3-1/2 years he’s been living in Paris. It was after 3 am by the time he headed home, and I staggered into bed!

I understandably got a late start on Saturday, then strolled over to the Palais Royal to do some reading.

Reading at the Palais Royal

I grabbed a quick and cheap lunch at Lina’s on Etienne Marcel, then strolled over to the left bank via the Louvre. You see teams of four heavily-armed soldiers all over Paris. Usually I’m reluctant to take their picture but I did take this shot to give you the idea. From one perspective they make me feel safer and from another perspective they make me uneasy.

Well-protected Eiffel tower seller at the Louvre

My destination was the little district of art galleries in the 6ème arrondissement near the École des beaux-arts. I had slighted this area despite my interest in art because I had the impression that these would be schlock galleries catering to tourists. There were a few of those towards the Latin Quarter but overall I was quite impressed with the quality of the galleries in this area.

Snow bicycle by Jacques Carelman at the Galerie les Yeux Fertiles

After the galleries started closing I strolled across the Latin Quarter to rue Monge, and headed up to a student-run restaurant I had read about, the Foyer Vietnam, in the 5ème. Mysterious from the outside because its windows are frosted, inside it’s a simple and welcoming Vietnamese restaurant. The food was tasty and inexpensive, and I sat at a long table with other diners. Very much the kind of experience I was looking for that evening.

Both before and after dinner I strolled around the area. I had previously noted the neighborhood around métro Censier–Daubenton as one where I could envisage staying one year. The only real drawback I saw was the fact that it’s a bit of a hike to the Marais, which is these days more of an issue for my guests than it is for me. Nearby rue Mouffetard, which had charmed me on earlier trips to Paris, now seems trampled to death by the tourist hoards. Rue Montorgueil itself — while still attracting a lot of French visitors — seems to be going in the same direction. Where can I go to escape from … people like me?

On Sunday morning I blogged and got a quick lunch at Lemon. Then Guillaume picked me up and we traveled together to the banlieue of Saint-Denis to see a contemporary art show. Guillaume had worked in Saint-Denis on an assignment and his employer, a city planning arm of the Paris region, plans to move its main office there. I had previously been to see the basilica (which is most impressive) but hadn’t dared to venture deeper into the city. It was reassuring to have an experienced guide.

In prior years I’ve usually purchased a monthly Navigo pass, which extends on weekends, etc. to the entire Île de France region, including Saint-Denis. This year, however, I’m just using métro tickets, which only cover the inner zones of Paris. When Guillaume pointed this out at Gare du Nord we joked about the idea of my taking my chances on being “controlled” and required to pay a substantial fine, but decided to buy the correct tickets. Our virtue was rewarded, since there was a massive control operation at Saint-Denis! Dozens of police were writing up fines for people who didn’t have the right credentials, and catching people who were trying to escape the control.

The art show was supposed to be in an apartment building in a lovely location, right between the Seine and the Canal Saint-Denis. At first we went to the wrong floor and had a disorienting experience since nobody at all was there.

Selfie of me and Guillaume in sketchy banlieue elevator

But once we found the show it was normal and the organizers were friendly and informative.

Reliefs, 2016 by Béranger Laymond at We Can Control Space show

Bob and Guillaume contemplating 16mm, 2015 by Nicholas Delprat

The show organizers had said that there were also some exterior artworks, so after leaving the gallery we went around back. It turned out to be a sandy beach on the banks of the canal, where a cheerful young crowd was watching France beat Ireland in the round of 16 of the European soccer cup!

Afternoon on the beach … of the Canal Saint-Denis

This being France of course there was a bar, and of course we each had a couple of beers… After the match we got into conversation with neighbors at our picnic table and learned a lot about the building. The residents are mostly artists and other creative types (also, contrary to the prevailing demographic of Saint-Denis, mostly white), and they are fighting to keep control of the building. It’s really a gorgeous spot; the only little issue I noticed was the Roma (gypsy) shantytown across the canal.

Roma shantytown across the canal

Guillaume explained that French racism against the Roma is even more intense than that against North Africans. There’s no immediate prospect of a Frexit, but the far right would love to use fear and hatred of immigrants to lever France out of the E.U. as well. Our conversation was in French, as at the dinner party in May. I had to ask him to repeat or explain a few times but on the whole I was able to keep up pretty well.

We said farewell at Gare du Nord, so I strolled over to the Grand Train, which I has first visited with Kristoffer the previous week, to see what it was like in nicer weather. It was a lot busier than last time, but all I had energy for was drinking a small beer and heading home for dinner and sleep.

“Time misleads us. Time hugs us. Time is our station. Time is our train.” –Jacques Prévert at Le Grand Train

Pizza restaurant at Le Grand Train. One of a dozen bars and restaurants.

Mot du jour: « bouche à oreille », “word of mouth”, but literally, “mouth to ear”, which I think is more evocative than our idiom. Not to be confused with « bouchon d’oreille », “earplug”.

Bonus Mot du jour: « bidonville », “shantytown”.

Second Bonus Mot du jour: « raton-laveur », “raccoon”, but literally, “little rat washer”. Beware the word « raton », however, since it’s also a racist slur for North Africans.

Machine à raton-laveur by Jacques Carelman at Galerie les Yeux Fertiles

First Weeks – 2016

Tags

art, assessment, Barcelona, Bordeaux, Buenos Aires, challenge, exercise, France, health, heel, Jared, Lisa, Nice, Paris, Sherard, sociability, swimming, thrill, Tokyo, Toulouse, Vélib, weather, Zhizhong

I’ve been in Paris for 2-1/2 weeks now, and in France for almost a month. It’s time for an assessment.

Overall it’s been a good trip, with many fine moments and no big problems. The only real issues have been my heel and the digestive upset of the past few days. They each had some impact, but I’m hoping that they are both behind me. I’ve stayed in pleasant places throughout, and I’m very happy with the Paris apartment. There’s been variety and stimulation, and nothing like the letdown I felt last year after arriving in Paris.

My initial trip through the south of France was pleasant and interesting, especially the stay with Charlie and Markevin near Toulouse. Of course it didn’t afford the level of stimulation and excitement of Rome and Venice, but what could? Nice, Toulouse and Bordeaux, though all among the top ten French cities, seem different in kind from Paris, a bit like Boston relative to New York City. They are fine to visit for a few days but don’t come close to the richness and variety of the capital.

I’ve seen a lot of good art this year, and I plan to see more. I’ve had consistently good food and some truly wonderful meals. I explored quite a bit in Nice and Bordeaux, and with Charlie all around his region, but I haven’t done as much walking as usual in Paris, due to weather and my heel. I hope to get out more later in my stay. I haven’t been swimming at all yet this year, and I need to build that into my routine. I have been using the Vélib bikes a lot more this year, and enjoying — when I don’t get snagged by availability issues — their convenience and efficiency.

One big surprise was the level of sociability in Paris this year. I didn’t have a scheduled house guest until June, so I was prepared to be mostly alone the first part of my Paris stay, except for seeing Zhizhong once or twice. I had offered accommodations the last week of May to two indecisive friends, but they eventually decided not to come, leaving me with no planned house guests in May. But instead of relative solitude I have been pretty continuously sociable, with new and old friends. Jared W is here for a month as a scholar in residence and we hung out quite a bit on my arrival. Then Jared R arrived for a week; the original plan was for him to stay with Jared W but he ended up sleeping on my sofa bed for four nights, and exploring Paris with me for a couple of days. Then there were my new Korean friends from Bordeaux, CN, Manu, and the dinner party. I’ve enjoyed this social whirl but it came as a surprise after being ready to amuse myself for a couple of weeks. I’ve still managed a fair amount of alone time, however, and I expect to have more in the latter part of June.

In part because of all the visitors I’ve been slow to reconnect with my Parisian friends, except for Zhizhong, who I’ve seen several times. He’s moving apartments, however, and has a big project at work, so will be quite occupied for the next week or so. Since Sherard arrives Tuesday I’ll probably wait until he leaves to try to schedule time with my other French friends, in which case it may be hello-goodbye rather than a richer social engagement. My cousin Lisa — a stalwart companion during my first five visits — is still in Uganda.

Like last year, Paris has been chilly in the last half of May, and this year often rainy. This is presumably just random variation (unless the Gulf Stream is rerouting!) but it undercuts my strategy of spending the first half of May somewhere warmer, then getting to Paris in mid-May. The first part has been working fine — especially last year in Italy — but Paris has in recent years stayed mired in cloudy weather through the end of May. Another year I might stay away all of May and arrive here at the start of June, even though I much prefer the luxury of six weeks in Paris over four, and I don’t want to brave the heat and tourists of July.

Not being in Boston for two months has always been part of the Spring in Paris experience. These long trips disrupt my habits there and test my friendships. There’s a downside to this, but there’s also a bracing aspect, in that both I and my friends feel the effect (or lack thereof!) of my not being there. It makes me appreciate the things I like about Boston even as I’m enjoying the different pleasures of Paris (or wherever). These factors have played out somewhat differently these past two years: One friend has vociferously critiqued my trips here, and pointed out how much fun I’m missing in Boston. Yet I’ve also been able to spend quality time here with so many other friends from Boston that it almost seems like being at home.

One factor of earlier trips is almost completely gone: the thrill and challenge of spending such a long time living in a foreign country, speaking a different language. I’ve become so comfortable in Paris that these trips have themselves become more routine than adventurous. My petits séjours are so pleasant that I’m reluctant to change the pattern, but it would be more exciting to stay next year somewhere less familiar, such as Barcelona, Buenos Aires or Tokyo.

The weak euro has continued to make travel in Europe a lot more affordable in dollar terms than in earlier years. The cost of the trip is happily not an issue for me, but my Yankee soul is gratified when I get value for money.

A Billion Euros of Nothing

Tags

Canopée, custard colored flop, Existential Nothingness, Forum Les Halles, France, Grand Canopy, La Canopée des Halles, Les Halles, Muji, Paris

For almost all the years I’ve been doing my petits séjours in Paris the former site of the Les Halles food market has been a massive construction site. Finally, about a month ago, the Grand Canopy (La Canopée des Halles) was opened! My thoughts are almost perfectly captured by this Guardian article: A custard-coloured flop: the €1bn revamp of Les Halles in Paris, except I think “custard-colored” is way too kind; the text of the article says it better: “Ranging between sand and rancid butter depending on the light, the yellow steelwork casts a jaundiced pallor across the scene, lending the interiors a decidedly institutional air.” (my emphasis)

I grant the building two points: (1) It’s big. (2) Its sculptural undulations are, as a work of abstract art, rather cool. But having got that out of my system basically everything else about it is bad. Here’s what you see when you step up to the canopy. I had to go pano because the Nelson Mandela Park opposite won’t be open for another year or two — click on each image to get the full impact.

The Grand Canopy. (Click on image for full panoramic view.)

What thrilling treasures does this gargantuan structure invite you to explore??

Under the Canopy is … nothing. (Click on image for full panoramic view.)

Nothing! Nothing but staircases and empty, empty space. I mean really empty, as in Existentially Empty.

Existential Nothingness beneath the Canopy

Is this at least an efficient way to move a lot of people between the ground level and the train station and shopping mall below? Not really: there are exactly two escalators between the middle and lower level. What will happen at rush hour? Or when one of them has to be repaired? Who got the big bucks to think about simple things like this??

The shopping center itself is nice; a big improvement on its run-down, confusing and sometimes dangerous predecessor. There’s a Muji store, which soothed the psychic wounds that the canopy had inflicted.

Soothing Muji

Why couldn’t they have asked these people to design the new building? It would have been transcendental instead of execrable.

Update: Amusingly trenchant comments on the canopy from a favorable review of one of the restaurants in the new space:

“A recent article in The Guardian called the Canopée, the new roof over the Forum des Halles in the center of Paris, a ‘custard-colored flop.’ I’d be more inclined to call it a regurgitated-custard-colored flop; custard doesn’t deserve such treatment. Although its swooping curves can be quite fetching from certain angles, it is basically just a fancy, very expensive (€216 million out of €1 billion for the entire Les Halles renovation project) hat for the badly conceived concrete wasteland underneath it. A shame that the city of Paris tore down one embarrassing eyesore just to put up another.” (my emphasis) Vive Champeaux, À Bas la Canopée!

My Travel Errors

Tags

travel errors

All my adult life I’ve occasionally made serious and inexplicable travel errors; mistakes that could quite possibly have had disastrous consequences. Happily, I have so far gotten away scott free, except for one situation that cost me a few hundred dollars. But any one of these errors had the potential of wrecking my trip, or otherwise causing a lot of grief. Naturally these errors concern me, but just “trying harder” to avoid them isn’t necessarily the solution, since they happen when I’m already stressed. This sort of thing never happened in my law or computer careers, and doesn’t occur in my daily life. The issue seems peculiarly connected to travel.

These errors happen at times of particular stress: managing all my luggage at departure or arrival, for example, or going through airport security. They also fall into a particular pattern: I get many complicated details right but I forget one important thing.

The most remarkable incident was about twenty years ago. I left my former home in Lincoln in a rush for a five-week trip to New Zealand and Australia. When I got back I found that I had left the front door of my house unlocked! Not only unlocked, but actually standing open!! It had snowed and a small amount of snow had drifted into my entryway. But nothing was missing.

The one travel error that cost me significant money occurred in 2012 in Morocco. I had gone there for two weeks after spending two months in Paris. My landlord in Paris had required me to pay the $2,000 security deposit in cash, then had returned it in cash when I left. I tried every way I could think of to deposit the cash in a bank or have it sent back to me, but the only options would require the punishing expense of converting it to euros and then converting it back to dollars. So I had carried it in a waist belt all through Morocco, putting it in hotel safes whenever possible. On the morning of my flight, after packing and putting the cash and my passport into my waist belt, I realized that I had some time to kill before I had to leave for the airport. I was about to go out for coffee I had a twinge of anxiety: what if I was mugged and the money stolen on my last day in Morocco? So I moved the passport to my pocket and put the money belt back into the hotel room safe. After my coffee I came back into the room, did a last pass to make certain that I hadn’t forgotten anything, then took my luggage down to the waiting cab. Forgetting, however, to pull my waist belt back out of the safe! I realized my error in the airport departure lounge. I called the hotel but it was too late to send the money belt after me. I considered missing my flight but that would have involved uncertain expense and delay, and I was feeling very ready to get home. (In fact I was seriously ill for nearly a week after getting home — that cup of coffee maybe?)

The hotel was honest and extremely cooperative, but there was a problem: money legally cannot be sent out of Morocco, so even conversion to Moroccan currency wasn’t a helpful option. Finally I contacted an acquaintance with a business in Morocco who was willing to help. She sent a car and driver to Casablanca to pick up the cash, then credited the money to me, less that expense. I then made a donation to a Moroccan charity in further appreciation of her help. So it was a hassle and an expense but not an outright disaster.

The other errors have generally involved leaving my passport or a key piece of luggage behind as I move through the travel process. This kind of thing has happened several times over the last few years, and happened again at the start of this trip. In all these cases I retrieved the missing item with minimal hassle or expense, but it could have been catastrophic.

One lesson is that I’m lucky. Another is that I’m flawed. And a third is that travel for me has this inherent risk, in addition to all of its other little hazards. Fortunately the rewards of travel are also great.