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

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Fête, Parks and Art

Tags

10ème arrondissement, art, Ayoung Kim, Bart van der Leck, Caminito, Canal Saint-Martin, Délices de la Lune, Doanier Rousseau, Fashion Week, Fashion week models, Fête de la musique, France, Henri Rousseau, In This Vessel We Shall be Kept, Jacques Grinberg, Jane Café, La Baraque A, Le Petit paysan en bleu, Les Nymphéas, Marais, meals, Men's Fashion Week, models, Monet's Water Lillies, Musée d'Art moderne de la Ville de Paris, Musee d'Orsay, Palais de Tokyo, Parc Montsouris, Parc Sainte-Périne, Paris, Paris Fashion Week, Paula Modersohn-Becker, Seurat, water lillies, weather

Tuesday was June 21, the Fête de la musique, a summer solstice street festival that’s a big deal in Paris and some other francophone countries. I have had a good time at the festival since I first stumbled on it in 2011, including barhopping with Jared W, Geoff and Hugues in 2013 and doing it on my own in 2014, with the most amazing time being last year (2015) when I enjoyed it with Sawyer and Seth.

This year I was on my own again. Instead of focusing on the Marais, as in prior years, I decided to stroll over to the 10ème arrondissement, around the Canal Saint-Martin, to see what the festival was like over there. La Baraque A is a mild-mannered coffee shop the rest of the year, but it hosts an electronic dance party for the Fête. The music was just starting up when I arrived so I had a beer on the terrace of a café, then strolled further on.

La Baraque A hosts a dance party at la Fête de la Musique

When I looped back later it had become quite a scene: La Baraque A Dance Party in Full Swing.

There were similar crowds outside restaurants and bars all around the quarter, in each case racially mixed, often multi-age, but with a consistently lefty/hip/hippie vibe. I didn’t notice much of a Muslim presence, and I suspect that this is the Achilles heel in the “melting pot” character of the neighborhood.

Blues at Jane Café in the 10ème on la Fête de la musique

I found the 10ème quite sympa, and I would consider staying there another year. But after a couple of hours on my own I headed home and got a good night’s sleep instead of partying until dawn.

When I got to Paris this year I noticed a new restaurant on rue des Petits Carreaux, Caminito, an Argentine bistro. I passed it by initially since South American cuisine is largely red meat, which I try to avoid.

Caminito on rue des Petits Carreaux in the Village Montorgueil

But on Wednesday I noticed that the plat du jour was fish so I had lunch there, which I quite enjoyed.

Pollock lunch at Caminito

That afternoon I headed out to find a park to do some reading in. I first went to a completely new area, Parc Sainte-Périne in the 16ème, but it just seemed like an enormous playground. Great for bourgeois kids but not inviting to an adult reader. Disappointed in my exploration I hopped the tram over to tried-and-true Parc Montsouris in the 14ème. I had brought an umbrella just in case and found that I needed it at times even though there were also welcome intervals of sunshine. This year’s summer started out looking a lot like its spring!

Rainy moment at Parc Montsouris

Raindrops on a rose at Parc Montsouris

The temperature had gotten up to 80 on Wednesday and on Thursday it was actually hot for the first time this year — high 80’s! Instead of sunbathing my thoughts turned to air-conditioning, so I decided to check some museums off my list. I had expected to visit the Musée d’Orsay a few weeks earlier with Sherard, but the Great Flood of 2016 put paid to that idea. Consequently, I headed over to see the Doanier Rousseau exhibition, and revisit the permanent collection. The title refers to the fact that Henri Rousseau started painting as a weekend hobby while working as a customs agent. I was mostly familiar with a few of his weird jungle scenes, and an iconic image of a family in a carriage.

I hadn’t realized, however, that he was self-taught, and was (initially at least) more of a folk painter than a professional artist. His portraits have that weird quality of looking straight out at you that you see in the works of American folk artists. He did have a good eye for color and could put paint on the canvas, but those skills alone wouldn’t have gotten him anywhere. What made his reputation was the weird and wonderful imagination that populated his jungle pictures. He never left Paris but had a rich vision of a fecund and brutal imaginary world.

The permanent collection of the Musée d’Orsay is always a delight, especially the impressionists on the 5th floor. I always notice something I hadn’t appreciated before, in this case a blurry little portrait by Seurat:

Georges Seurat, Le Petit paysan en bleu, dit aussi Le Jockey, around 1882 at Musée d’Orsay

I was also reminded of the fact that real people can be at least as fabulous as those depicted in the artworks.

Real person at the Musée d’Orsay

The Orsay admission also includes the Orangerie museum in the Tuileries, so I walked over there and revisited Monet’s two immersive waterlily rooms, as well as the impressive impressionist and post-impressionist collection on the lower level.

Monet, Les Nymphéas (water lillies) at l’Orangerie museum

Monet, Les Nymphéas (water lillies) at l’Orangerie museum

One observation I’ve often made about the finest impressionist art is that you can appreciate most any small section of brushwork as an abstraction as well as enjoying the entire work from a distance. I finally got around to posting a photo set putting forward this idea: Impressionism Far and Near

Thursday evening I had a Breton meal at an old favorite, Délices de la Lune on rue Poissonnière. (I was surprised to see that the Fork offers a 40% discount for advance bookings. This seems like gilding the lily since their prices are so modest anyway!)

On Friday I decided to check out the new shows at the edgy contemporary art museum, Palais de Tokyo, which I have sometimes loved and sometimes loathed. Although I liked several of the shows I saw there in mid-May the current crop left me stone cold, except for a few individual pieces and a wonderful sonic work by Ayoung Kim called “In This Vessel We Shall be Kept”. The concept of the work is crazy but remarkable: We are asked to take refuge in an ark against another great flood, but the ark in question is the Palais Garnier!

Ayoung Kim, “In This Vessel We Shall be Kept” (detail)

There are some graphics explaining this conceit and giving the text of an immersive choral performance, which is the heart of the work. These texts are from various sources, including the Epic of Gilgamesh, the Bible and the Koran, which all exhort a chosen few to build an ark to survive a flood. You experience the choral work in a comfortable seat in a dark room, surrounded by eight speakers. I posted a clip to give you a taste, but you need to hear it for yourself!

As in prior years, I stumbled on some Fashion Week models at Palais de Tokyo; cute and emaciated as always, but this year with strikingly kookie hairdos.

Models at Palais de Tokyo

Model at Palais de Tokyo

Since it’s right there and free (except for the temporary shows) I also stopped in to the Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris. I ended up paying for two of the shows, which were both pretty good: Paula Modersohn-Becker and Albert Marquet. Modersohn-Becker’s early portraits had a naive aspect reminiscent of Henri Rousseau, but her skills advanced rapidly, until her untimely death. Photos aren’t permitted in the shows, but I noticed this grisly little picture in the permanent collection, which is quite good even though overshadowed by the Pompidou.

Jacques Grinberg, l’Enfant (the child), around 1963, at the Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris

And this eerie group scene:

Bart van der Leck, Au Marché, 1913, at the Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris

Antoine and Pigalle

Tags

Antoine, barbe à papa, Haussmann, Haussmann buildings, Le Barbe à Papa, Marais, Montmartre, Pigalle, Place Saint George, Place St George, rue Condorcet, sex clubs, SoPi, straight sex clubs

Wednesday, after Omar left, I had lunch on my own at one of my favorite neighborhood places. Then I did grocery shopping and a stint at the laundromat (for sheets and towels), and finished with a quiet dinner at home.

Lunch at Pur

On Thursday I had a cozy lunch with my French friend Antoine, who is working at an art conservation organization south of Pigalle (which he tells me is now going by the moniker SoPi). He has recently moved to a larger place in the 17ème, near Batignolles. Métro line 13 is sub-optimal but he loves his immediate neighborhood, which is a gated courtyard.

Antoine and me at lunch near Pigalle

At first look “South Pigalle” and “SoPi” sound fine. Until you realize that “South” is English — it should be « Sud Pigalle » and « SuPi », but I guess they just don’t have the same cachet.

I’ve mostly avoided the Pigalle area in prior years because it’s tacky and has a sketchy reputation after dark.

Former beautiful woman on formerly beautiful building, rue Pigalle

Honestly, though, most of the straight sex clubs here are no worse than the gay clubs that one frequents in the Marais.

Sex club near Pigalle

Pigalle is just below the tourist mecca of Montmartre, so parts of it are trampled by that tourist horde.

Tourist street below Montmartre

Clever underground bottle disposal system either full or being ignored, near Pigalle

I did run across a cool bunch of decorated posts in the heart of Pigalle. I posted a video clip on Instagram.

The farther south you go from Pigalle the nicer things get, however.

Panorama, Place St Georges

These Haussmann buildings on or near rue Condorcet are downright gorgeous.

Lovely Haussmann building near rue Condorcet

Le Barbe à Papa is a subtle play on words, since the French for cotton candy is the same, except feminine. On rue Condorcet

Sherard at one point tasked me with a dislike of Haussmann areas. After thinking it over I admitted a taste for twisty little medieval streets, but I claimed that I also have no problem with wide, straight avenues or boulevards, or with Haussmann-style buildings, so long as they offer restaurants and shops on the ground level and aren’t trampled to death by tourists.

My Omar

Tags

art, Eiffel Tower, Elliot, France, Harvard, HGLC, HGSC, Il Tre 3, Kazuho Hieda, Marais, meals, Montorgueil, Omar, Open Café, Paris, Place de la Concorde, Quetzel, rue Montorgueil, Shepard Fairey

Omar and I met for drinks on Friday night. That evening is a bit of a blur but the upshot was that it would be a lot more convenient if he stayed at my place for the next few days rather than at the garret apartment he had been living in. On Saturday evening we set out to explore the Marais. We started — as usual! — at the Open Café, then continued on to Quetzel, then … that evening is something of a blur as well…

Me and Omar at the Open Café

Omar and me and many new friends at Quetzel

One detail I do recall is that three touristy guys (on the left in the pic) barged into Quetzel while Omar and I were sipping our beverages. I was annoyed when one of them bumped into me. They came out with beers and eventually we got into conversation with them. They weren’t so bad after all, although we were ready to say farewell when we went off to our next destination.

I had two previously-scheduled events on Sunday: A dinner party hosted by my friend Elliot for the Paris chapter of the Harvard Gender & Sexuality Caucus at 6 pm, and a Skype connection to my classics book club meeting at 10 pm (4 pm Boston time). Elliot’s dinner was delicious, as usual. About eight members attended, some of whom I already knew and others were new to me. It was an interesting evening but I had to leave at 9:30 to get home for book club … only to find that the meeting had been canceled. I was just half-way through Mémoires d’Hadrien myself so I was happy to defer the discussion to our July meeting.

On Monday Omar and I went to Fontainebleau, which I had hoped to see with Manu earlier in the trip. I’ll post about that separately.

On Tuesday we did some shopping and hit some art galleries.

Mer de Kumano étincelante (Kumano sea sparkling) by Kazuho Hieda at Galerie Yoshii

Many pieces by Shepard Fairey at Galerie Laurent Strouk

Tiffon Cognac in Crystal Dragon bottle. A bargain at 2,100 euros. At La Part des Anges

We had a late lunch on Tuesday at our local Icelandic sandwich shop, Lemon. I mentioned to the server in passing that Omar was treating me to a special birthday lunch; at the end of the meal they brought us coffees and a chocolate cake on the house, explaining that I was one of their best customers.

Free coffees and cake at Lemon to celebrate my birthday

Zhizhong had previously invited me to a posh Harvard-Yale reception on Tuesday evening. We had had an amazing time at the American Ambassador’s residence the previous year so I accepted, even though this year it was at a mere hôtel particulier. Zhizhong was called away to London for work at the last minute so I considered skipping it but eventually decided to attend. The space was quite a comedown from last year, but still pas mal.

Hôtel de Tallyrand-Périgord. Ho hum.

Harvard-Yale Reception at the Hôtel de Tallyrand-Périgord.

I had some pleasant conversations at the reception but nevertheless I was happy to step out into the Place de la Concorde and meet up with Omar for dinner.

Place de la Concorde after the reception

Waiting for Omar at the Ferris Wheel at Place de la Concorde

We had a couple of false starts with reservations on The Fork but we ended up having a good Italian meal at Il Tre 3 on good old rue Montorgueil. I had walked by this restaurant dozens of times but had never eaten there, since I had the impression that it was just street food (as is the Thai restaurant across the street). The patrons and servers were indeed young but the food was perfectly respectable and the interior decor was pleasant.

Omar is a keen observer. Not only did he notice the cool street art mosaics by Invader, but he found an app — FlashInvaders — that lets you score points by finding as many of them as possible. Invader started out in Paris but now has put up works in major cities around the world. I’m just starting out but I hope to do a lot better before the end of the month!

My sparse gallery in the FlashInvaders app

Omar left for Budapest on Wednesday, in part because I had to get ready for my next house guest. Meeting him, and spending several days together, was a special pleasure of this year’s stay. A true “expected surprise!” We both hope that our paths will cross again.

Meanwhile, another Omar was killing 49 LGBTs and allies in Orlando, to the horror of decent people everywhere in the world. I don’t minimize the intolerance of many Muslim countries for homosexuality, but I hope that the future of Islam will be closer to the spirit of my own modern, kind and moderate Omar.

Mot du jour: « hôtel particulier » “mansion”. The French word « hôtel » is an unreliable friend. In « hôtel de ville » it means “city hall.” Used alone, it actually means “hotel.”

 

A Flâneur is Born

Tags

4ème arrondissement, Alésia, art, Belleville, Boulangerie, Café de l'Industrie, Carrousel du Louvre, flâneur, FNAC, France, Haussmann building, Le Verre Siffleur, Louvre, Marais, meals, Musee d'Orsay, Paris, Sherard, Uniqlo

Wednesday was Sherard’s last day in Paris so we were thrilled the night before to see that the Louvre would reopen! We got up early — for us — and arrived shortly after it opened. Unfortunately, there was already a huge, raucous line. I searched online for a way to jump the queue, and was pleased to discover that the same strategy I had used other years for the Musée D’Orsay also works for the Louvre. In both cases the bottleneck is the security line, but both museums have a much shorter security line for people who already have tickets. You can buy tickets ahead of time on line or at FNAC or many tabacs, but if you wait until the last minute there’s a tabac that sells Louvre tickets right in the underground Carrousel du Louvre where we were waiting. The express security line for people with tickets is up at the glass pyramid so once you have your tickets you go there and sail past the normal security line. I was proud of having worked this dodge but I could see that Sherard was still repelled by the mob scene. I asked which galleries interested him most and when he left it to me I led him to the Mona Lisa, which I assumed he would want to see, even though it attracts the worst sort of paparazzi crowd. After that I spied a few paintings I liked but I could see that Sherard was still not into the experience.

Portrait of a Man Holding a Statuette by Bronzino, Florence, 1503 – id. 1572

Over morning coffee Sherard and I had a heart to heart talk. The upshot was that all he really wanted that day was to buy two items he had seen on earlier walks: (1) a rug he had admired during our walk through the Belleville and Couronnes neighborhoods and (2) a small painting he had liked at a gallery in the Marais. I was proud of Sherard for asserting what he really wanted in the face of the conventional expectation that one has to see the Louvre!

We got the hell out of there and headed east. The problem was that neither of us remembered exactly where he had seen the rug, so we retraced our steps: up rue de Belleville, then over to the Parc de Belleville and back down from there. Along the way we saw several pieces of street art that Sherard liked way more than anything he had seen at the musty old Louvre.

Street art in Belleville

Street art in Belleville

[Click here to download an enormous pano of the piece above.]

Just as we were about to give up on the rug, back at the Boulevard de Belleville, I noticed some Muslim stores on rue Jean-Pierre Timbaud, and sure enough, there was the rug! Sherard bought it for a song, and the first of our missions was accomplished.

After lunch at the Café de l’Industrie — a sentimental favorite from my first year — we headed over to the Marais.

Sherard’s lunch at Café de l’Industrie

There was a moment of anxiety at the gallery when the painting Sherard liked was no longer on display! But after he asked at the counter the clerk brought out many similar pieces and Sherard left as the happy owner of a colorful semi-abstract portrait. Both missions accomplished, we happily strolled home through the Marais.

Uniqlo store in the Marais, in a former foundry

Sherard suggested that we eat dinner in a completely non-touristy neighborhood we had not yet visited. I took a deep breath and proposed Alésia, a typical if unexciting neighborhood in the 14ème arrondissement. I had no specific place in mind so we simply explored. Needless to say, this warmed the cockles of my flâneur heart!

Lovely Haussmann building in the 14ème arrondissement, near métro Alésia

Boulangerie in the 14ème arrondissement, near métro Alésia

The restaurant we settled on, Le Verre Siffleur, turned out to be friendly and rather stylish as well as offering a good meal at a reasonable price.

Bob’s dinner at Le Verre Siffleur, in the 14ème arrondissement

Among our pleasant conversations there was one with a young man from Dijon who gave me his number and invited me to visit his city for a few days. Sherard noted that something similar had happened with an artist earlier in his visit, and asked me whether this sort of thing occurs to me often. I responded, “Only in Paris!”

We ended the evening, comme d’habitude, with cocktails at Experimental Cocktail Club. The bartender was charmed when we mentioned our afternoon in Belleville, which she “adores.” But when we mentioned our excursion to Alésia she said, with a visible shudder, that she “never crosses the river.” Just like crossing the Charles River between Boston and Cambridge!

Mot du jour: « comme d’habitude », “as usual”.

High, But Not Dry

Tags

art, Bastille, Belleville, Canal Saint-Martin, Comptoir General, flâneur, France, Ghetto Museum, La Bocca, Marais, meals, parc de Belleville, Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, Paris, Place des Vosges, Point Ephémère, Rosa Bonheur, rue de Mouzaïa, Sherard, villas

Thwarted by the closings of the the Louvre and the Musée D’Orsay, I promised to take Sherard on Sunday to one of the highest points in Paris, which I guaranteed wouldn’t be affected by the floods. I was right, but … read on.

We walked across the Marais — where Sherard saw a small painting he liked — via the Place des Vosges (mentioned in my French Linen post) to the trendy area east of the Place de la Bastille, then over to the Canal Saint-Martin, which was interesting as ever.

Street art along the Canal Saint-Martin

I showed Sherard Comptoir General but realized, seeing it through his eyes, that it was no longer the astonishing art-intensive Ghetto Museum that Alexis had introduced me to several years back, but had become just a big hipster bar with a few bits of African decor.

We walked the length of the canal up to Point Ephémère, a hipster bar in part of an old fire station that I had been reading about. We stopped in but it looked too sketchy for our bourgeois tastes. Sad for me since I like to think that a flâneur can appreciate all aspects of the city. There was a leftist political rally of some sort on the plaza between the canal and the Basin de la Villette. We stuck our heads in but it wasn’t our scene either.

Not having had much luck thus far I directed our steps to my ace-in-the-hole, the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, which never fails to charm. Imagine my chagrin when it too was closed! Not of course due to flooding — it’s one of the highest places in Paris! But it seems that the rains that preceded and caused the flood had soaked the soil and rendered certain trees unstable. There was a sign at the main entrance, however, saying that one of the ginguettes in the park was still open, accessible presumably by a safe route. There was no mention of my primary destination, Rosa Bonheur (which usually has a terrific gay scene on Sunday afternoons) but since it was close to an entrance at the top of the park I hoped it might be open as well. I checked its website and phone message and there was no mention of it being closed so we walked up along the outside of the park to the highest point, where a sign informed us that Rosa was closed. We got a quick bite at a restaurant across the street, where our only cold comfort was schadenfreude as we watched families and gay guys come up to the locked gate to discover — as we had — that both the park and Rosa were closed.

Not-terribly-good lunch on rue Botzaris

Our luck turned at this point, however, as Sherard enjoyed the little pedestrian “Villas” off rue de Mouzaïa, which led us up to the completely non-touristy Parc de la Butte du Chapeau Rouge, with a commanding view of the northern suburbs.

Flowers on Villa d’Alsace, off rue de Mouzaïa in the 19th

We walked back via the Parc de Belleville, and Sherard really enjoyed that area, especially appreciating a rug in a Muslim shop we passed by at some point in our meanderings.

Crowd at an impromptu concert at the Parc de Belleville

That evening we had a late dinner at an old favorite, La Bocca on rue Montmartre.

Seafood pasta dinner at La Bocca. The long thin shells are clams, although I’m not sure they are the same species as we get in the U.S. since I’ve never seen a shell like that at home

 

Drinking While Paris Drowns

Tags

Arturo, beur, drinking, Experimental Cocktail Club, France, Garçon Magazine, Hoppy, Jared, La Chaise au Plafond, Le Depot, Les Mots a la Bouche, Les Souffleurs, Marais, neighborhoods, Open Café, Paris, Quetzal Bar, rebeu, Sherard, Total Beur

Friday night was an epic bar crawl. I’m tempted to just refer the gentle reader to the Circe Chapter of Ulysses and leave it at that. But as a dedicated blogger I must try to record the experience!

On Wednesday Sherard and I had visited Les Mots à la Bouche — the indispensable gay bookstore in the heart of the Marais. A friendly clerk invited us to the launch party on Friday for Garçon Magazine issue 4, so we arranged to meet Arturo there to start our evening. Meanwhile, Jared W got in touch to suggest coordinating with him and a friend so we suggested that he meet us there also. Then a young Chinese filmmaker who I had met once in Boston surfaced and asked if we could meet up this evening. So I invited him to meet us there as well. The more the merrier!

Arturo was already at the Garçon launch party when we arrived, and a photographer was taking pictures for possible use in the next issue. Naturally the three of us volunteered; my guess is that our photo might just get in: How could they resist a handsome latino, a super-cute mixed-race guy and a charming much older gentleman? Then Jared W arrived with not one but four friends. We toyed with the idea of looking for a table for eight but eventually decided to go our separate ways for dinner. Then the filmmaker arrived, and showed every sign of wanting to spend the rest of the evening with me, despite the fact that I already had two excellent companions. I introduced him to the photographer and sent him over to have his picture taken, saying that I had to go back to my friends.

That seemed to work, so Sherard, Arturo and I headed over to the Open Café for cheap happy-hour beers on their terrasse. Who should arrive, however, but the filmmaker, still lonely as a cloud! I walked him into the bar and introduced him to a sweet-looking Australian of my vintage to help him order a beer. Happily, this time my social engineering worked and we saw them later going into Quetzal Bar.

Meanwhile, the three of us walked down to Les Souffleurs for cocktails. Arturo was scandalized when the bartender larded his martini with vermouth, but after much heated discussion he got an American-style martini, and ended up with a free drink. Who should we see as we left to find dinner but Jared W and his four friends! (This wasn’t as big a coincidence as it might seem, since Lisa’s Geoff had introduced both of us to the bar during Jared’s stay with me a few years back.) Jared and his friends had already eaten falafels on rue des Rosiers, so Sherard, Arturo and I went looking for a table for three.

My favorite Bad Boys, Sherard and Arturo.

Happily, we found one at an old favorite, La Chaise au Plafond. Their famous millefeuille appetizer wasn’t on the menu, since tomatoes were not yet in season, but otherwise the meal was up to my expectations. The only photo I took, however, was of the toilet — sorry, it was that kind of evening!

The toilet at La Chaise au Plafond. Arturo almost touched hands with the person opposite, thinking that the hands he saw were his own in a mirror.

After dinner we walked back to our own neighborhood (Arturo’s apartment was nearby) and had excellent cocktails at Experimental Cocktail Club. Arturo was feeling tired for some reason, so after a couple of drinks he headed home.

Sherard and I were still thirsty, though, so we each had a distinctive craft beer at Hoppy, a brand new beer bar just down the street. We closed the place down, and had a nice conversation with the owner as we left.

Hoppy

When we got home, however, Sherard realized that this was Total Beur night at Le Depot — a big 16th Anniversary event! I like beurs/rebeus (slang but not necessarily insulting terms for guys of north African ancestry – mot du jour link), but I was a bit tired myself by this point and I had never been to Le Depot, in part because friends had described it as a creepy sex club. So Sherard headed out once more into the alluring Parisian night. He reported the next morning that it was a lively and attractive crowd, and that the ground floor was a pleasant, normal gay bar. (He also brought back a card for free admission on a Tuesday night, but more about that later…)

In case you found this a teensy bit confusing here’s a helpful table:

Party/Bar/Restaurant	Sherard and Me	Arturo	Jared W+4	The Filmmaker	The Aussie
Garçon Magazine issue 4 Launch Party at Les Mots à la Bouche	X	X	X	X
Open Café	X	X		X	X
Les Souffleurs	X	X	X
Quetzel Bar	X	X		X	X
La Chaise au Plafond	X	X
Experimental Cocktail Club	X	X
Hoppy	X
Le Depot	Sherard

Sherard and I have been friends for years, and we’ve shared a glass of wine or two on many occasions. This is the first time we’ve traveled together, though, so when he first arrived I asked what his attitude was towards going out drinking. He said he was open to the idea, and he was true to his word!

First Days With Sherard

Tags

art, Arturo, Experimental Cocktail Club, France, Gaîté Lyrique, Galerie Linz, Lucas Talbotier, Marais, meals, Montorgueil, Nanashi, Open Café, Paris, rue Montorgueil, Seine, Sherard, weather

Sherard arrived on Wednesday morning for a week-long visit to Paris, his first. After he got settled in I asked what he particularly wanted to see or do here and he gave me a short, straightforward list:

• the Louvre,
• the Musée D’Orsay, (most famous for its unparalleled collection of impressionist works) and,
• the Pompidou Center (the national museum of modern and contemporary art).

“No problem!” (I thought!) Because it was closest, and in the gay-friendly Marais, we set out that afternoon to see the Pompidou Center, the national museum of modern and contemporary art.

At the café atop the Pompidou Center

We started with an exhibition about the life and work of Paul Klee. It was large and comprehensive, although I was surprised not to see some of his most iconic images. These were a few pieces from the show that caught my eye.

Paul Klee, Green X Above Left, 1915

Paul Klee, Mask Fear, 1932

Paul Klee, Snake Paths, 1934

It’s always a pleasure to revisit the Pompidou‘s permanent collection but I’ve blogged about it many times before so I won’t repeat myself here. I did get a decent video clip of a rotating op-art piece I’ve always liked, however: Nicholas Schöffer, Spatiodynamisme (visions condensées), 1958

Also, I hadn’t noticed this piece before, which embodies the absurdity of some branches of conceptual art.

George Brecht, Three Arrangements, 1962 / 1973 / 2015

That evening we strolled down to the Seine. The recent rains had caused the river to rise higher than I remembered seeing it. I took a photo, but didn’t give it much further thought…

The quai at the tip of Île Saint-Louis on June 1, 2016, at the start of the Great Flood of 2016.

We ended the evening with cocktails at my old favorite, the Experimental Cocktail Club.

The next morning Sherard was kind enough to give me moral support at a coffee date with Arturo, a guy I had been chatting with for a few years but had never met in person. He turned out to be great — handsome, smart and sweet! We made a plan to meet again for drinks that evening and continued on our way.

We got our art fix on Thursday from less mainstream sources. First was a quirky show at the Gaîté Lyrique, a former theater that is now the neighborhood cultural center for the 3ème arrondissement. The show started out with some cute-ish computer enhanced image manipulations, then developed into a meditation on information gathering and surveillance, and on our mostly-futile attempts to protect ourselves.

We had lunch at an old favorite, Nanashi in the Haut Marais. We both enjoyed our  meals as well as the handsome and friendly waiters.

Sherard with our Bento boxes at Nanashi in the Haut Marais.

We spent the late afternoon seeing galleries participating in Les Jeudis Arty (Arty Thursdays) in the Marais, which now happens just three times a year.

This exhibition space was as interesting as the works (which were on plastic tables suspended by wires from the ceiling struts).

This piece was one of Sherard’s favorites.

Sherard with Memory Drift, 2015, by Nicholas Dhervillers at School Gallery Paris

Painting by Lucas Talbotier at his Biome show

I liked several pieces by Lucas Talbotier at Jola Sidi Gallery.

I was pleased to learn that the handsome young artist will be spending a semester at Rhode Island Institute of Design (RISD) starting next January. We exchanged contact info and I hope I’ll have an opportunity to show him around Boston next winter.

My favorite gallery of all was the Galerie Linz, hidden at the back of a courtyard. I liked almost everything but my favorite piece was a remarkable balanced stone sculpture.

After a minor SNAFU we met up with Arturo and had a beer at the Jeudis Arty after party at the Carreau du Temple, then decamped for cocktails at Le Mary Celeste.

Arturo and Bob at Le Mary Celeste. (Photo credit Sherard)

The drinks were fine and the atmosphere was nice but the service was lackluster. We then tried the Experimental Cocktail Club, but we couldn’t get in because it closes at 2 pm on Thursdays. By this point we were close to home so Sherard and I invited Arturo up to the apartment and we ended the evening with a few glasses of wine.

Odds and Ends

Tags

art, essence, Flics hors de nos vies, fool's gold, France, gas station, GeoBlue, Health Insurance, Jared, Marais, Matieres d’Art, minerals, Monop', Nuit Debout, or des fous, Paris, Place de la République, prices, Vélib

These are a few items that didn’t fit in my previous posts.

On Saturday I did some gallery hopping in the Haut Marais (Upper Marais). I’ll do an art post later, but I also wandered into a arty mineral store that caught my eye.

Matieres d’Art in the Haut Marais

I rarely buy souvenirs or art, in part because my apartment in Cambridge is already well furnished. But I couldn’t resist this lovely little specimen.

Rock studded with cubical crystals of fool’s gold.

Place de la République continues to be occupied by demonstrators against the proposed labor law (loi de travail). They demonstrate — and party — all night, calling themselves Nuit Debout (night standing up).

Nuit Debout protests at Place de la République

From a callow touristic perspective I find it annoying what a mess has been made of the lovely statue and plaza, fully renovated in 2013, then trashed in 2015 after the Charlie Hebdo attacks. On the other hand, the statute commemorates the French Revolution, which started, full of promise, in 1789, and remains at the foundation of French political life despite its excesses and complex sequelae. The people have always been messy!

Bas relief of a key meeting during the French Revolution, updated to say, “Cops, stay out of our lives!”

I saw an English-speaking doctor about my painful heel, using my GeoBlue global health insurance policy for the first time. It was an amazingly seamless process, and cost me nothing. She diagnosed inflammation and prescribed anti-inflammatories and a bit less walking. Obediently, I cut back yesterday to just over 7.5 miles, even though it meant giving up leadership of my FitBit friend group.

The Vélib shared bike system has helped a lot, since biking doesn’t impact my heel. Jared W started me off with it last week and I’ve been taking bikes all over the place this year. There are occasional problems with empty or full stations, but the coverage in Paris is breathtaking.

Vélib stations in central Paris

I found these mysterious items at the back of the silver drawer in my rental apartment but I couldn’t think what they might be for. Jared W guessed immediately, however, and I think he’s right, even though his answer implies a French cultural practice that I know nothing about, and couldn’t easily find on Google. What is your own guess?

Mysterious items. The caption reads, “For a Shared Pleasure.”

It’s conventional wisdom that Paris is an expensive city. This is certainly true relative to French salaries. And of course you can spend up large here if you want. But as a counterexample I offer this receipt from a recent shopping trip.

A small box of cereal, two liters of milk, a liter of sparkling water, and a quite good bottle of Bordeaux Supérieur, all for 10 euros, or about $11. The wine alone would be more than that in Boston, and the total would be at least twice as much. Monop’ is one of the more upscale groceries, so it probably would have been even less at a downmarket grocery.

Last miscellaneous item: In the countryside French gas stations look just like ours but in the city you have to keep your eyes peeled, since they fit in to the urban streetscape.

Paris gas station: a couple of signs and a couple of self-service pumps

Mot du jour: « essence », gasoline.

Bonus mot du jour: « or des fous », fool’s gold.

Picasso Museum

Tags

art, Buste de femme, Carnet de dessins No 30, Craig, dit du Chef-d’oeuvre innconu, Femme à l’enfant, Instruments de musique sur un guéridon, Marais, Musée national Picasso-Paris, Paris, Picasso, Picasso Museum, Portrait de Marie-Thérèse, Tête de femme

The Picasso Museum in Paris has been closed for renovations almost the whole time I’ve been making my spring pilgrimages: more than five years. It opened late in 2014 so I could have seen it last spring but I didn’t get around to it. Craig had it on his agenda, though, so I saw it with him this morning. I’ve always had reservations about Picasso: too much stuff, too many styles, too much ego. Of course he was a genius; he painted some of the iconic images of the 20th century, Les Demoselles d’Avignon, Guernica, etc. But what would it mean to say you “like” Picasso? I like some of his work, but frankly a lot of it looks like junk to me. That off my chest I did enjoy the museum; there were enough pieces that I liked to make it worthwhile.

It’s in a beautiful old hôtel particulier (mansion) in a lovely area of the Marais.

Here are a few of my favorites pieces.

Bob interrogating “Tête de femme” (head of a woman), Boisgeloup (1931-1932)

“Buste de femme“, Boisgeloup (1931)

“Femme à l’enfant” (woman with child) (1961)

“Portrait de Marie-Thérèse” (1937)

Self Portrait, Blue Period (1901)

“Carnet de dessins No 30, dit du Chef-d’oeuvre innconu” (notebook of designs No. 30, called the Unknown Masterpiece) (1924)

“Instruments de musique sur un guéridon” (musical instruments on a side table) (1914-15)

As usual for me, certain aspects of the building itself caught my eye in addition to the art.

The third floor was closed, so I’ll have to go back. Perhaps when some other friend wants to see the collection.