Paris is in a constant state of reconstruction. Centuries-old buildings have been retrofitted over the years with indoor plumbing, electricity, telephones, and internet connections. Some buildings need to be strengthened as old bricks and mortar deteriorate. The building we’re staying in will undergo a renovation after we depart.
By far the biggest construction project in the city is the reconstruction of Notre Dame Cathedral, which was heavily damaged in a fire on April 15, 2019. There’s a huge crane hovering over Île-de-la-Cité (see below). With the exception of the façade, the building is shrouded in scaffolding. The north side of the building has a covered walkway with pictures and explanations of the rebuilding process. The south side of the island (on the left of the picture) is a construction staging area, with heavy equipment and a multistory modular edifice for contracting offices. Yesterday morning we watched from a nearby bridge as a crew inspected one of the towers on the front of the cathedral. You can see the cherry picker in the photo. When we came back from our travels yesterday afternoon, National Police had blocked the bridges to Île-de-la-Cité. President Macron was inspecting the construction site on the third anniversary of the fire.
Notre Dame. The flying buttresses are stabilized by wood arches. Photo courtesy of Julian.
The preservation instincts of the French are a sharp contrast to what’s seen in the United States. In some cities (looking at you, Dallas and Seattle), perfectly good buildings are razed for ugly contemporary construction. A small bungalow can be bulldozed and a starter castle or two built in its place. A 25-year-old building can be considered a historic landmark. While some old buildings may have outlived their usefulness, others can undoubtedly be saved with conscious retrofitting. This results in less waste going to landfills and more affordable housing and workplaces. The French believe in building to last, Americans are more into planned obsolescence.
Postscript, 4/17/22: We ambled over to the vicinity of the Eiffel Tower today to visit the Rue Cler neighborhood, where we rented an apartment the last two times we were in Paris. Even the Eiffel Tower has scaffolding around it.
I think the pandemic has affected French fashion much as it has American. We’ve always been amazed that the average Parisian dresses in black and dull-colored clothes, even though the clothing racks in department stores here show eye-popping hues. This year the populace has doubled down on dullness. I haven’t seen many stiletto heels strolling down Boulevard St. Germain. Even outside the student-heavy Latin Quarter, jeans and t-shirts are de rigueur. If you see someone wearing a baseball cap with a New York Yankees logo on it, chances are they’re French. As they say on the Champs-Élysées, go figure.
On Wednesday we went to the Musée Carnavalet, which focuses on the history of Paris. One whole floor is devoted to the French Revolution. Julian took this picture of earrings that were made after Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette lost their lives. Even 200+ years ago, the French had a macabre sense of humor.
Because I haven’t had more than a week of vacation per year in the last two years, I decided to be offline from work for the duration of this break. I told a coworker that I should only be contacted via my home email if there’s a zombie apocalypse or similar disaster at work.
How’s it going so far? So far, so good. I’m obviously not unplugged entirely from the outside world. We’ve been watching CNN. Both of us are sending and receiving emails and calling family and friends in North America. I’m (obviously) blogging. However, I have not tried to access my work email yet. We’ll see how long that lasts.
We landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport around noon on Sunday. We took a cab to our rental apartment on Ile St. Louis. The apartment is small, but serviceable for the two of us. The biggest drawback of the building – no elevator, and we’re on the third floor. The stairway is in a semi-spiral and has no railings. It was a religious experience getting our luggage upstairs. The plus side is the location – it’s within walking distance of most of what we go to Paris to see. Given that Covid is still an issue, staying out of the Métro is a good idea.
Ile St. Louis might be more appropriately called Ile de Glaces, as in Island of Ice Cream. This little bump in the Seine River has more places selling ice cream per square kilometer than most cities. Much of it is Berthillon ice cream, which is good stuff. A large percentage of the cows on nearby farms must produce milk for this operation. We have yet to partake on this trip, although there’s a place next door selling the ice cream.
We walked over to the Marais neighborhood last night to get some basic groceries and takeout. Because of the pandemic, many restaurants are also offering menu items to go. We stopped at a takeout window to get pitas filled with greens and merguez (Moroccan sausage). Very tasty. The pitas were nice and fluffy, unlike the dry husks we sometimes find in the US.
Today we did a little shopping. We started out at La Samaritaine, a high-end department store that’s been beautifully remodeled. We looked, but didn’t buy anything. We had lunch at Au Pied de Cochon (Pig’s Foot) restaurant. This is an old-school French restaurant that we’ve gone to on previous trips. Following that, we went to Librairie Gourmande, where I restrained myself and bought only one cookbook. We strolled along Rue Montorgueil (another foodie street) and got takeout salads for dinner.
Some people have bad hair days. I have a bad hair life. My mother thought my straight hair needed to be permed, so I had several perms before she gave up and made sure I got pixie cuts for years. When I chose to get a permanent as an adult, Mom said, “You know, I think I prefer your hair straight.” Haircuts are always fraught with peril for me. Here’s the usual progression:
When the stylist hands me the mirror: Looks good.
When I look at my reflection in a window after leaving the shop: WHY didn’t I make them quit while I was ahead? It’s SO SHORT!!!
After I wash my hair for the first time after the cut: OMG, it’s sticking out all over! It’s too damn short!!!
A week after the cut: It’s still too short! Grow, grow, grow!
Three weeks after the cut: It’s beginning to grow on me at last.
Four to six weeks after the cut: Finally it’s behaving! Life is good.
Seven weeks after the cut: It’s too damn long! The bangs are getting into my eyes. Time for another haircut!
The countdown has begun! T minus 12 days until we leave for a twice-Covid-canceled trip to Europe. The original itinerary (France and Italy) has been changed to France and Spain. The plans for this trip have been in the works almost since we canceled last year. Julian managed to get us almost-reasonable plane fares and two killer apartments to rent.
The first stop is Paris for ten days. Our rental apartment is on Île-Saint-Louis, less than a 5-minute walk to Notre Dame. Granted, the cathedral is still closed after the 2019 fire, but we can observe the construction on our walks. We’ll visit some of the usual haunts and a few new ones. A visit to Librairie Gourmande is definitely on the itinerary. Julian has also expressed an interest in seeing the Musée d’Orsay, which has a large collection of Impressionist art.
The next part of the trip involves taking a train to Bordeaux, renting a car, and driving to San Sebastian in Spain. I’ve always wanted to visit the Basque region of Spain and France. The Basque language bears no resemblance to French, Spanish, or any other Indo-European tongue. The region has mountains and the ocean to make us both happy. And it should be no surprise to regular readers of this blog that we’re also going for the cuisine. Our friends Bruce and Laurie may join us on this leg of the trip. I anticipate a crawl or two for cider/wine and pintxos (the Basque equivalent of appetizers or tapas).
The final leg of the journey is a return to the Dordogne region in France. We were in this beautiful area seven years ago (see this post). We’re staying in the same hotel as we did on our previous trip. The last day we’ll drive back to Bordeaux and spend the night in a hotel near the airport so we can catch our flight home.
Julian made chimichurri along with steak the other night. For the non-cognoscenti, chimichurri is an Argentine parsley pesto sauce that’s heavy on the garlic. It should only be consumed among consenting adults. I took some for lunch years ago and nearly caused evacuation of the office suite. We had some leftover sauce, so Julian suggested using it as a pasta sauce. Made sense to me.
I chose orecchiette as the pasta. I could have used spaghetti, but I wanted a shape that would cup the sauce; hence orecchiette. After the pasta was cooked and drained, I tossed it quickly with the sauce. Julian grated some Parmesan on his dish and called it good. One could have added chicken or other protein to the dish. I’d do this again.
I’m reading Mark Kurlansky’s The Basque History of the World in advance of our trip to San Sebastian and the Basque regions of Spain and France. (More about that to come.) The Spanish Civil War didn’t make it into my high school history classes. Generalissimo Francisco Franco was the butt of many Weekend Update jokes in the first season of Saturday Night Live when I was in college. I just finished the chapter in the book about the aerial attack on the city of Guernica on April 27, 1937 by Franco-allied German and Italian forces.
April 27 was a market day in Guernica, and the town was full of farmers and shoppers. German aircraft started bombing at 4:40 pm and continued for three hours. The purpose of the attack was to strike fear in the Basque people so they’d submit to Franco’s rule. Although the exact number of people killed will never be known (government records on the attack have never been released), Basques estimated over 1,600 mortalities in the three hours of bombing and machine gun strafing of those trying to escape. Franco tried to use the oldest alibi in the book: The Basques attacked Guernica themselves. Survivors and the few journalists in and around Guernica rapidly refuted Franco’s assertion.
If I changed the date, location, and name in the paragraph above, Guernica would be indistinguishable from what’s happening in Mariupol or other cities in Ukraine. For that matter, attacks on civilians from the air have been standard war operating procedure for the last 85 years. These are crimes against humanity, period, end of discussion.
The Florida Legislature has passed a law that’s popularly known as “don’t say gay.” Teachers won’t be allowed to discuss topics related to lesbians, gays, and transsexuals. However, will Florida ban songs containing the word gay? Here are a few examples that might have to be eliminated. I obtained some of these from another blog.
Deck the Halls
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Here Comes Peter Cottontail
I Feel Pretty, from West Side Story
I’m in Love with a Wonderful Guy, from South Pacific
Dites-Moi, also from South Pacific
The Great Pretender
Twistin’ the Night Away
My idea of fun would be to have a high school chorus record the lyrics of songs containing the word gay and play them on an endless loop in front of the Florida Capitol.
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