My last meal in France

It was the morning of the day I would fly home. My flight was at 7pm. I planned for the taxi to pick me up at 3pm, to make sure I had ample time and then some, and wouldn't stress about it. I had two possible agendas. One was to go back to the Marais and buy some gloves and a scarf for Carolina, to thank her for wiring the money. The stores on Rue du Temple all seemed to be staffed, and likely owned, by people of Asian heritage. The merchandise was cheap, and certainly not French made. But they had some awfully nice designs, and I had euros to relinquish. Plan two was to go to Bouillon Julien, a restaurant a metro ride away. Bouillions are a kind of old fashioned restaurant that originally served inexpensive meals to workers. They are still quite inexpensive compared to typical French restaurants. I had previously been to Bouillion Chartier, which I had stumbled upon on a trip some years ago. It felt like going through a time warp. The tables were communal. The hall was large and high ceilinged. I took Loring there on a subsequent trip. He doesn't remember it, though. I decided to go to the restaurant first, and if I had time, or if they couldn't seat me, go to the shops in the Marais. It was Sunday, and I wasn't even sure the shops would be open. I had read about Bouillion Julien on this trip, and seen photos. In the entryway was an exqusite mosaic with two peacocks and the name of the restaurant. That alone was a motivation for me to visit. The interior looked beautiful, deco in style with pale greens predominating. I couldn't make a reservation but their site said they accepted walk ins. Someone had written that they went without restervation and had to wait, but it was worth it. They opened at 11:45, which is when I wanted to be there. I left home early, having packed first, and arrived at 11am. There was a roped area to line up in. I was the first one there. By 11:45 a few people had arrived behind me. And at promptly 11:45, they opened the door. There was only one line for those with and without reservations, so I wasn't sure how they would seat people. They asked me if I had a reservation, and if I was by myself. I was the first one seated, at a table right in front, at the window, so I could see the line get longer and longer as they seated people a party at a time. There was no reason for me to have arrived before 1145. No one came to serve me until the place was pretty much seated. That was okay. The menu was indeed inexpensive. There were entrees (which in French actually means appetizers) and plats, which are the main dishes, and desserts. And wines of course. On the list of plats the first item was Bouillion Julien. So I of course had to order that. Since it was listed as a main dish I assumed it would be a hearty broth. But when it came, it was quite thin, with small pieces of beef, and those tiny noodles that are just small pearls of pasta. What's more, it was lukewarm. I thought about sending it back, but it tasted good, and I didn't bother. The good thing is that it left me room for dessert. Which was delicious. It was an apricot almond tarte. While I was waiting for my meal, I walked around the restaurant and took pictures of the beautiful interior. The aisles were quite narrow, and I had trouble squeezing thru where a table had a bottle of wine beside it. I wonder if the food in general is mediocre, or I just ordered the wrong thing. And I wonder why the boullion was listed on the main dish part of the menu. In looking at online reviews I see both positive ones and ones that say the food is terrible. I would definitely go back on a subsequent visit, just to see if some of the other dishes were better. And to see the mosaic entry and the stunning interior again. The apricot tarte made me think of the deserts I had. My first was a raspberry tarte, my favorite. I had to resist ordering that every time I passed a patisserie. I think I had three over the course of my stay. Once I was buying a baguette in a boulangerie, which also had some pastries. I bought a kind of chocolate twist pastry and took it home. Then there was the chocolate meringue. It was a large ball covered with chocolate. I assumed the inside was all meringue. I generally don't like meringue, or macarons. But it looked so good. I was curious and had to try it. I actually liked it! The meringue was interspersed was a light foamy mousse. It was rich but light at the same time. Then there was the day with the gigantic chocolate banana almond whipped cream crepe, previously described in another entry. I almost couldn't, and probably shouldn't have eaten the whole thing. But I did. And to be fair, to myself, that was my main meal for the day! I must had some other pastries, but they escape my memory at the moment. So to sum up, I had started out with a goal to visit at least six museums in two weeks. That's a much slower pace than on previous visits, but in truth I am slowing down. And I lost one day due to the theft of my porte-feuille. That means wallet, I just had to get that word into print. I visited the Arts Naif museum, the Pompidou, the Petit Palais, the Arts Decoratif( only on my second attempt, the first was when I discoverd my wallet was gone.) And the Victor Hugo, which is a house museum located on the corner of the Place des Vosges. I had been there before, a long time ago. I always like house museums. And I was tired from walking around the city. And it is relatively small. And it is free. It certainly isn't as well known as many of the Paris attractions, but is definitely worth a visit. It's an apartment, small for a museum, but large for a house. The furnishings are not the originals, but are of the period. Except for the bed in the master bedroom. Which is the bed in which he died! So that makes five museums, unless I am forgetting one, which is certainly possible. Close to my goal. But I do wish I'd had the energy for a few more. I wouldn't have minded another visit to the Orsay, another favorite, or the Palais de Tokyo museum of modern art, which was closed between exhibits. And several others. The Louvre isn't high on my list anymore. I'm not sure it's even on my list. If the lines weren't so long, and reservations weren't necessary, I might be inclined. Not to see the Mona Lisa. There's another Leonardo portrait in the corrider that I much prefer. I think many people are underwhelmed by her anyway. It seems that so many sites have enormous crowds now, and not only in Paris. I wonder if I'll feel like visiting again next year, or if this might have been my last tango. (what was that movie about, anyway?) Valerie and Laurel have already scheduled another mural workshop for next year, as the school has requested another mural. Several people have already signed up, and they only have room for a dozen or so. Addendum: I just realized that I ought to consider the Cirque d"Hiver as a museum. It's historic, dating from the Napoleonic era,and was the place where the trapeze was created, (by a man named Jules Leotard!) They do a wonderful backstage tour one Saturday a month. So I guess I did meet my museum goal after all. Goals are nice to have, but I also think it's okay if you don't always meet them.

Reflections and reminiscences from back at home.

I will now attempt to fill in some of the gaps, some of my experiences that I haven't yet documented. I hope I remember all or most of them, and hope I don't repeat myself too much. First, the performances. I attended two while I was there. First was a concert in a small venue in my neighborhood. I always try to look at ads in the metro and online for things happening during my stay. But this was just a small club close to my apartment that I happened to notice walking by. The poster on the door called the show for 7:30. I showed up about 7pm. I hoped that there would be tickets available at the door, as I had no credit cards to reserve online. There was another woman waiting, and we waited quite a while. A man soon joined us. I asked if they already had tickets, which they did. I don't think they opened the doors until after 8pm, which I don't think was normal because both the man and woman seemed frustrated. The venue, when they eventually let us in, was quite small. There was a stage, a few rows of seats, and an open floor. I sat on the top row, so I'd have a back to lean against. There were only four or five short rows, holding no more than twenty five or thirty people. The floor could have held quite a few more, but there were only about twenty people who stood there. So not more than fifty altogether. There was a first act was a singer with a guitar and a sweet voice. She sang completely in English. But spoke in French. The main act was also a French woman with a three piece band. She was very good. She also sang mostly in English. I messaged her afterwards to tell her I enjoyed her performance. Although the audience was small it was very enthusiastic, and didn't feel at all uncomfortable, at least to me. Next to me was a couple with the only child in the audience. He was about three, cherubic in looks with blond curls. He also must have had a severe case of ADHD or something similar. He was in constant movement and chanting or singing loudly nonestop. I felt both compassion for the parents and frustration with them for having brought him. They did leave early. I had read about a dance performance based on the music of Leonard Cohen, performed by the Montreal Ballet Company. The name of the performance was Dance Me. Online it looked as though the only tickets available were with limited visibility, or no visibility. It was at the Chatelet Theatre, another place I'd never been. Their site said the box office opened at 6:30, before each 8pm performance. I decided to show up at 6:30 and see what they had available, willing to settle for limited visibility. No visibility for a dance performance was puzzling. It worked out, and they actually had better seats. I ate at the cafe next door, which worked out perfectly. I was seated in the last orchestra row, fine especially since I hadn't been sure I'd get in at all. And it allowed me to stand when I couldn't see past the tall woman in front of me. Why do I always get the tallest person in the row? The first piece was wonderful. It featured the men in the company wearing black outfits and Cohen's iconic black hat. The performance was entirely his music, 18 songs I believe. The next few were also great. But after a while the choreography seemed to become repetitive. I was especially disappointed in their piece to the song Suzanne. To me, the lyrics describe a strong woman. And yet, the man of the dancing couple seemed to lead. I t bothered me. The performance ended with Hallaluyah. I was again disappointed because they did a solo singing rendition. The singer was a multi talented dancer in the company, and she had a beautiful voice. But I wanted the performance to end with a rousing dance. Nevertheless I was glad to have gone. The theatre is old and beautiful. And the performance had enough high moments to satisfy me. Interestingly, when I later googled reviews, I found a British reviewer from when they had performed there last year, who had some of the same criticisms that I did. It was rather gratifying to know that my feelings were echoed by a professional reviewer. I am glad I didn't read the review beforehand, or I might not have chosen to go. The audience gave the company long applause. I am still trying to figure out what a dance performance with no visibility would be like. I suppose you could go just to appreciate the music and the theatre itself. T

my last night

It's almost time to leave. This is my last night here and I am enjoying relaxing in my apartment.  I leave here tomorrow afternoon for an evening flight back to Boston. 

My day started earlier than usual.  I had planned  to take a tour of the Cirque d'Hiver which they offer once a month. It's a place I'd heard of but never known much about before. Carolina and Max's school mate from the Phoenix School has become a professional trapeze artist. I see her posts on fb and had seen that she was coming here to perform. The performances begin a week from now, so I won't be able to see her perform.  But we arranged to meet up at noon today after my tour and before her rehearsal began at 1230.

I couldnt buy a ticket online ( credit cards stolen, remember? ) so decided to just show up and hopefully buy a ticket there. That worked out relatively well with a couple of glitches.  One, in my rush to catch the bus I got on in wrong direction. Got off at the next stop but it was a long stretch and probably added ten minutes to my trip.  Had a little trouble finding the way- I have no internet on route- but am getting pretty good at asking for directions.  Arrived at 10:03. No open door but several people waiting.  Turns out there was some problem with the guide getting there, which I didn't understand, but he arrived at 10:30. He never took tickets, which I think all the others had, so I got a free tour. It was all in French and I understood a good part of it. He said afterward that he would have been happy to speak in English for part of it. But I hadn't wanted him to. It was really good practice for my French skills.

The place is beautiful and historic.  We saw dressing rooms, costumes, and, best of all the theater itself.  I don't know how often this happens, but we got to see about fifteen minutes of an aerialist rehearsing her act accompanied by a pianist on a piano that rose up from the stage. It was magical.  They were rehearsing the lighting as well. This is my third encounter with  a rising piano in the last few weeks. First there was one in part of the opening ceremony of the Olympics. Outdoors.  I watched that on tv at home. Next,  one of the weird moving apparatuses in the exhibit at the Musee des arts Naif involved  a rising piano. And then today at the Cirque. All of them in Paris.

There was so much more to the tour than I can relate. Suffice it to say that if you happen to be in Paris on a Saturday morning you might want to check out the tour. I'm sure they'll be happy to do some of it in English. 

I did understand that the art of trapeze was invented there, by a performer named Jules Leotard! And Izzy later told me that it felt like the pinnacle of her career to be performing there. I'm not sure she actually used that word,but I did! 

Let's see, what else can I relate before running out of time or energy? I feel like there's much more to tell,  despite my frustrating reduced level of energy.

Well, there's the Petit Palais , another place I'd not been to previously or known much about. It sits across from the Grand Palais which is open for special events and exhibits.  It isnt petit at all, but i guess smaller than the Grand.  It is an exquisitely beautiful building with both permanent and special exhibits.  It has a wide variety of art, some by artists I recognized, many beautiful pieces by people I did not. But to me most special of all was the interior garden and cafe. I I wouldn't have discovered it at all but for the sign at an elevator indicating it. It was an oasis with all kinds of plantings, pools with mosaic trim, and best of all,  canvas sling lounging chairs throughout with no obligation to purchase anything from the cafe. It was the first sunny warm day in my two weeks. Lots of people were basking in the sun. As did I  for about three quarters of an hour. I highly recommend a visit. 

Today after the tour I debated where to head next and decided to walk toward the Marais again and perhaps head over to the Jewish Museum after having discovered it closed for Rosh Hashanah  on my previous attempt. It was a longish but pleasant walk. Lots of people out strolling and sitting in cafes and more English and other languages spoken than I'd heard in two weeks.  But clearly lots of locals too. I stopped to browse in several stores looking for ways to spend my remaining euros. Got several ideas but decided to wait. Got to the museum and after walking into the courtyard decided I was too tired for that too and thought I might want to save my remaining euros for an extravagant (for me) last restarant meal.

So my plans for my last half day tomorrow are still up in the air, before I go up in the air myself. In the morning I'll eat the remainder of today's baguette,  still surprisingly good in the morning. If I have the time and energy I might head back to the Marais once more for some last minute purchases or even the museum. Or I may try to get into the Bouillon Julien. They have no reservations left but apparently do take walk ins. I want to go there as much for the stunning decor and mosaics as for the food.  I haven't figured out just what the difference is between a bouillon,  a bistro and a brasserie is, but am going to look it up and perhaps let you know in my next post.

Or, I might just head downstairs to the Mome cafe/restaurant right downstairs a little earlier than my 3pm taxi and have a last meal and coffee there. All of the possibilities sound good. I'll just have to wake and pack and then see.

Some days work out perfectly

The days that work out perfectly are not usually the ones that work out as

planned. The first time I tried to find the Museum of Naif Art I never did. I hadn't known about the museum at all. Only came across it because it was in walking distance from my apartment. It seems to not be well known at all. Perhaps by the locals. I'll have to ask Hilliare, my host, if he is familiar with it. I was determined to find the museum and so set out again a couple of day later. I was worried that it was going to be uphill since it's right at the edge of Montmartre.  But it wasn't. And this time I had no trouble finding it at all coming from a different angle. Go figure. This little museum turned out to be one of the highlights of my entire stay here , made even better by my feeling of discovery. There were two exhibits and no permanent collection.it felt like more of a gallery, but not one that felt elite or offputting. I described the exhibit here in one of my other posts. It was wonderful. Before entering the museum, I noticed that there were several fabric stores around the neighborhood. In fact, it was more than several. The whole area seemed occupied by fabric stores, some large, some tiny. They were more than just fabric stores, they had lots of notions like buttons, zippers in many colors, all kinds of ribbons, on rolling displays, from narrow to wide, many unusual and beautiful ones. I don't sew, but thoroughly enjoyed browsing the stores. They sold fabric in bolts, from a quarter meter up, and also littlethink packets of remnants of all kinds, costing from 1 to 3 or 4 euros. I bought a few short pieces of ribbons, and left them on display on my living room table for the rest of my stay. My intention is to incorporate them into mixed media pieces with fabric and mosaics. I am inspired by Valerie, our French mosaic teacher in Provence, who has been incorporating brocade and other materials into some of her mosaic pieces. So that was my day, walking and a wonderful find of a museum, and fabric. I think I cooked dinner at home, as I did the majority of days.

Almost time to say goodbye

as usual I find it hard to keep up with describing my experiences and adventures. this is my next to last night here. I have hardly been eating out. have breakfast here every morning. it's usually been coffee and those traditional toasted crackers I still associate with my very first trip here. back then my host mother served them with orange marmalade and butter. this time it's been apricot as there was already a jar here, and then orange/grapefruit when that ran out. I dont usually have three meals, but either lunch or supper and maybe a snack somewhere along the way. Yesterday had a crepe as a lavish lunch in the Marais. that's the previously Jewish quarter that's now very trendy, with art galleries and clothing stores and many perfume shops. you do still see the occasional orthodox Jew but I'm afraid they have become a tourist attraction in themselves . Now this crepe was nothing like the one you can order at a stand in the street. Another long ago food memory: I had a favorite crepe stand on the Blvd St Michel where I would always order the same thing, a chocolate coconut crepe, folded and wrapped in paper. The guy would see me coming and say "chocolate et noix de coco?" The crepe I ordered yesterday in a sit down restaurant was chocolate, banana with almonds and whipped cream. I had just ordered chocolate and banana but then asked for some whipped crem(chantilly in French.) She pointed out that the day's special was all that plus almonds and so that's what I had. it was just one crepe which you could hardly see because of all the banana, chocolate and especially all the whipped cream. it was massive. Loring if you are reading this, it was almost but not quite as massive as the one in that town in Tunisia! Did I eat it all? of course I did. that might have had something to do with my queasy stomach last night. For supper at home last night I had half of a fresh warm baguette and some mint tea. I had headed to the Marais planning to visit the Jewish museum, to which I had never been. they had an interesting sounding exhibit about dybbks.As far as I know, in Jewish mythology they are evil spirits.

Next encounter with the authorities

Ok I told you about the first experience where my wallet was stolen but I was treated very kindly by the police. 

Here's the next and hopefully last disaster on the metro. Fyi I can't remember ever having an experience like either of these before, in all my visits to Paris. 

I had never taken the bus before here, except for when I lived here and sometimes took the bus to school instead of walking.  Always liked taking the train.  Until a few days ago, after the pickpocket incident.  I decided to give the bus a try. First attempt mostly positive, excerpt that someone gave me bad info and I took the bus in the wrong direction. I was almost at the end of the line before I realized it. No biggie. I went back in the right direction and the bus driver told me to just explain to the new driver and I wouldn't be charged.  Anyway it was a nice excursion through parts of the city I hadn't seen before. 

Next day, got on the bus again  when for some reason the machine rejected my ticket. I didn't  understand but was already on the bus so ignored it. Guess who came along? One of the inspectors.  I knew that there were heavy fines and tried to explain that I had had my wallet stolen and had very little money and no credit cards.  (I  didn't mention the 50 euros I had in my shoe) I also didn't have any identification. i guess I should have kept the police report with me. I was in no way going to carry my passport around after the theft.

The guy was not very sympathetic.  He didn't seem  to believe my story and eventually told me to get off the bus with him. I thought he said he was going to call or bring me to the police. But after a few minutes he just gave up and started walking away. Maybe it was the crowd starting to gather around us. I couldn't totally blame him. it was such a ridiculous sounding story. But he could  have been kinder.

I thought the problem was that metro tickets weren't good on the buses, and that was why the machine had rejected mine. But when, back at the apartment, I looked it up, I read that the tickets were good on both trains and buses , as I would have expected.. So I still don't know why mine was rejected. I just know that if it  happens again I  will go up to the driver and explain my problem. Meanwhile if anyone knows the answer please let me know asap. 

Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think

Oh those fragments of songs from decades ago that stay in your head. Who was that one? Perry Como? I'll look it up later.

I've gotten used to the idea that it's ok to  spend half the day lounging around my apartment without feeling guilty.  I really can only do five or six hours, if that, gallivanting around the city. And there's pleasure to be found in the small things, like looking out the window at the iconic Paris rooftops while taking a shower. Or eating the raspberry tart that I bought the day before, even if it isn't quite as fresh as it was the previous day. 

I begin considering what to do that day by late morning. Having a tentative destination has always been my strategy. and see what happens. It hasn't always been good, but the bad experiences usually become good stories with the passing if enough time. 

So  ; I did eventually return to the Musee des arts Decoratif after discovering the loss if my wallet a day before.  And the exhibit about the beginning and growth of the Paris department stores  was wonderful. I've never been disappointed there, even when the subject isn't what I'd normally be drawn to, like sports fashion, prior to the Olympics last year. 

My goal this year was to take in a half dozen museums in a two week stay, not an unreasonable one, I thought. But I've had to revise it. I'm up to four now, with 4 more days here, and if that's it; so be it.

I want to recount my visit to the Musee des Arts Naif, an unexpected treasure. I'd never even heard of it before, and don't see it mentioned even in any of the off the beaten path sites. It was a walkable distance from my apartment;  in  the Montmartre area. But, of course I never did find it that day. But I did have a nice walk around the 18th arrondissement. 

I did find it in my second attempt a few days later, approaching from a different angle. And what a treasure! It's within an old hall of some kind, maybe a market. Art naif is I think,  interpreted in different ways by different folks, much as outsider art is in English. It can mean by self taught artists, or sometimes as what we consider folk artists. Then there is also the term art brut which factors in there somehow.

In this case the artist is Gilbert Peyre  who describes himself as an electromechanical maniac, or something like that. His works are kinetic sculptures that are bizarre enough on their own; but are only truly appreciated when electrically animated. When I was there a guide gave a tour, activating the pieces one by one. A few required audience participation. I don't know how frequent the tours are, but make sure you get to see the works in action. 

There is another exhibit at  the hall, which I actually saw first, by artist and poet Malcolm de Chazal who was from Mauritius, an African island country about which I knew nothing until now.  His paintings are bright and in some cases almost childlike, in some cases featuring a single item such as a bird. The Peyre exhibit is there until July of 2025. I am not sure about the de Chazal. 

The third museum I visited was the Pompidou, which I visited last year and might not have visited this time but for two reasons. One us that it's closing soon for several years of renovations .  Not that I expect to be back in the next couple of years. But one never knows especially if another mosaic mural workshop with Laurel and Valerie  was to be announced. But the major reason is the current Surrealism exhibit. I can't get an advance ticket for any museum or site since all my credit cards were stolen.  So I resigned myself to standing in the no ticket line.  It took an hour. It seemed that nearly all the people in line were French. I did hear a bit of German and a little British sounding English. 

The exhibit itself was packed and overwhelming. It was much like those blockbuster exhibits at home. And it was very very long,  just room after room. Several times I thought I was approaching the end and was wrong. There many paintings that were recognizable as by Dali or Magritte or Miro or de Chirico but not works I had ever seen before, and many by artists with whom I was unfamiliar.  I had originally thought I'd visit some of the permanent collection, but after an hour in line and probably two hours in  the exhibit I was exhausted.