More tales from the city

This post actually predes the ones about my trip to Loches. I wrote it but didn't get a chance to post it last week.

It is Saturday night. I am in the living/dining room after a delicious dinner cooked by Laurent, Marina, and Hasha. Laurent is one of the only ones patient enough to work with Marina , and it is a pleasure to see how he interracts with her. He is such a kind and thoughtful person. And he and Hasha have recently paired off, as have Miryam and Gorka. And Pablo and Irene were a couple even before they arrived here, which it took me a while to realize. I wonder where these relationships will go, if anywhere, after the project ends.

The only problem here tonight , which is a big one, is that I am not supposed to be here at all, but rather at my old college friend Marie’s house for the weekend, about three hours to the south of Paris. But when I got to the train station I discovered that there were no more Eurail pass tickets available. So much for the ease and convenience of a rail pass. The woman at the ticket window, very nice, explained that they only reserve a certain number of tickets for pass holders. So I made a reservation for tomorrow am instead. I’ve called and left Marie messages, but haven’t heard back, and am afraid she didn,t get them and went to the station. Not sure how far the train station is from her house. But I feel terrible.

Meanwhile, the house is in full party mode here. It’s 10 :30 and I have a feeling things are just warming up. Paul is at the bar with rum and coconut milk, and, I think, whipped cream, and some kind of drinking game is going on with lots of cheering and picture taking. I’m being an old fogey typing away here in the corner. And since I wasn’t planning to be here, Gorka and Miryam had planned to use my little room for the weekend. I don’t mind, except that I have to get up early and it might be hard to get any sleep anytime soon.

Let me backtrack and talk a bit about Marina, which I had done before but then lost when I lost the internet a couple of days back and hadn’t saved what I’d written often enough, I guess :

Marina is an 18 year old French member of the group. She has some behavior problems, and is very unfocused and uncontrolled. It is very hard to be patient with her, and she gets on most everyone’s nerves. There is a very positive side to her, too, in that she is very enthusiastic, often gleeful, about just about everything. A couple of days ago she was particularly wild and was driving us all crazy. At lunch, Laurent brought the situation up, in Marina’s presence. It was difficult for him to do, and very uncomfortable for everyone, and I can hardly imagine what it must have felt like for Marina. She does seem aware of her difficulties, and relatively okay talking about them. It came up that she had forgotten to take her medications, and she said she would make sure to remember. We’ll see. Meanwhile, I interviewed her yesterday for the FDH blog, as I have been everyone in the mosaic group, and found out some interesting things by talking a bit more to her. But she is still driving me, and all of us, crazy.

It is a part of these volunteer organizations’ philosophy to incorporate people with disabilities into the programs, which in theory I very much support, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s easy. When I volunteered in Romania a few years ago, there were two Italian volunteers with Down Syndrome, along with their chaperone. Neither she nor they spoke a word of English, and it first seemed like it was going to be a real challenge to communicate with them But by the end of the project, they were communicating just fine with everyone, and especially with the children. I would say it was a valuable experience for everyone.

Last night after dinner most all of us went to an art exhibit that Paul knew about, about grafitti art. Paul is a neighborhood worker, and speaks caringly and proudly about « his » teenagers. Two of the teens, who hang out with us frequently, came with us to the exhibit. On the escalator on the metro, Gorka apparently turned around to give Mirjam a kiss. But it wasn’t Mirjam, but one of the boys, who was behind him, and whom he actually kissed ! I unfortunately missed the event. But Gorka and the teen were both rather embarrassed, and Gorka had to put up with an awful lot of kidding the rest of the evening.

The exhibit was quite interesting. It was actually several hundred spray paint cans, each individually designed by, I assume, a grafitti artist. They were from all over the world, including most of the countries the volunteers are from. They ranged from very abstract designs to several that had crocheted covers, to ones that were crushed and/or made into different kinds of shapes. The only thing that puzzled me was that decorating a small can seems the antithesis of the broad strokes of grafitti art.

After the exhibit Paul said he wanted to take us to « his » bar, which was in the same neighborhood. We walked a few blocks, past quite a few bars, to Paul’s bar, the name of which I didn’t get or don’t remember. It had a Carribean ambience and was owned by folks from Martinique. ’

I asked Paul for a suggestion of a special drink. He said « planteurs » and it took me a few seconds to realize he was talking about planter’s punch. I did order one and it was indeed good, served from a huge and unusually shaped punch bowl . After I gave four or five people a taste, they ordered a liter, which the bartender served from the punch bowl into a plastic liter juice bottle. Definitely unpretentious.

One the way home we passed quite a few small bars. The quartier was lively but not rowdy, actually had quite a nice feel to it. Paul said the neighborhood is known for its small inexpensive bars and music of many different kinds. It is his favorite part of the city and he hopes to sell his apt. and buy something in that area, around Oberkampf metro. I was surprised to hear he owned his apt. He said he doesn’t need a lot of money to live on, and has been saving money since he was fifteen. He’s 27 now, but can’t make too much as a community worker. I know his current building was designed by Eiffel, but is in an area of business workers where he doesnt feel comfortable. Of course my immediate reaction was to think I’ll buy your apt ! I didn’t say it to him though. Yet.

Well, I suppose I should write something about the mosaic project. It continues to go well, and I am not only enjoying it but feel really lucky to have the opportunity to learn these techniques. I think everyone in the group feels the same way. One of the volunteers asked me today to ask Giselle if it would be possible to come back and study with her . Giselle basically said that she was already too committed to too many projects. It just made me, all of us I think, realize how fortunate we are to have this opportunity.

We have finished the first of the seven panels, and are close to finishing the three others we’ve been working on. But we still have three more, and only one week, to go. It is important to all of us to finish by the end of the project, and some of us may wind up working extra hours next week, I would be willing to, and so would Natalya, not sure about the others. But I think one way or another we will get it done.

Today we grouted the finished panel. It was fun to do, and really satisfying to see it done. Giselle put colored grout on a wooden panel, and we laid the tiled piece with the netting background on top. She used two colors of grout, a green for the lower part and gray for the upper. She said they would lighten and blend at the transition as the grout dried. I thought it looked wonderful already. The grout totally changed the look of the piece.

The best part was pressing the tiles down, causing the grout to ooze up between. Then we gently sponged the extra grout off the tiles. Caress the tiles, said Giselle, gently, like you would caress a man. Next week we’ll give the tiles a second cleaning, with alcohol.

My writing just got interrupted by Pablo’s birthday celebration. He turns 20 today. (Saturday, it’s just after midnight). Eider and Prune(it means plum in French) baked him a cake and hid it from him all day. They brought it out and we all started singing to him, in Spanish, English, French, Korean, Armenian, Russian. Only problem, no Pablo. After six languages someone went to wake him up.

Well, time to sign off. No sign of things winding down here, although some people are talking about going out to a bar. Gorka and Mirjam have very nicely given me back my room for tonight. Although I was planning to just sleep elsewhere, I am very grateful, because it is unusually wild around here tonight. Marina hardly stands out in the crowd.

Bon nuit !

Conversation tidbit from the dinner table a few days ago:

Monika (Czech R. ) Who make this ?
Natalya (Russia) I
Monika : You give me recette.
Natalya ;( chuckles) I improvise.

The funny thing is that this is probably a typical conversation ; I just don’t usually notice the broken but wonderful English.

Encore Loches

Saturday night, we had a wonderful dinner of leftovers from the Saturday night meal I was supposed to have been there for. Then, to sleep in a comfortable bed in a beautiful room in an the ancient house of an old friend. I slept long and well.

Sunday morning, after a typical French breakfast of bread, jam, and coffee( which I began to drink again after a several year hiatus) Marie took me on a tour of the old town of Loches, ie buildings dating from the 10th rather than the 15th century, before heading out to Tours airport, a small place with as many 4 seaters as commercial planes, to pick up Marie's daughter and her 10 year old son, Marie's grandson John. The last time I'd seen Zoe she was a little girl, now she is in her thirties. They had flown in from England, where they live, for a visit.

We went into old Tours to take a look around and get a bite to eat at Marie's favorite Lebanese restaurant. I had curried chicken, good but surprisingly mild. Marie said the French don't like spicy food and so the restaurants with normally spicy cuisines really turn down the heat.

Marie had phoned her friend Mimi to see if she was up for visitors, but before we got there we stumbled upon a combination garlic festival/ flea market which we browsed through first. There were stalls upon stalls of folks selling garlic, also leeks, shallots, and onions, and also lots of stands with tables of people, locals all I would guess, eating steak and frites, the ubiquitous French meal. With garlic? I didn't find out but took lots of photos of venders and shoppers with garlic.

We then proceded to Mimi's. She lives in a section of an old cloister that has been converted into apartments. The cloister itself is white and quiet with an austere beauty. Mimi's apt was quite the opposite, a tiny place with every corner crammed with colorful items, a multicolored chandelier, the likes of which I've never seen, large and small cabinets with drawers holding who knows what. It absolutely puts my place to shame, There were also three, or was it four, cats; I lost count. Mimi is recovering from cancer, seemed tired and gaunt, but Marie says she is much better than she had been. Mimi is a painter, of watercolors. She took down a small vintage suitcase from a pile atop a silver painted, Egyptian looking cabinet, in which she had a number of small works. We browsed thru them and I wanted to buy one, but Mimi insisted on giving me one as a gift. She gave one to Marie and Tim, and one to Zoe and John, as well. Tim showed me one of his paintings on the wall in the miniscule kitchen. They have known each other since Mimi and Marie's children were small.

We then left Mimi and Tours, having to head back to Loches, a 40 minute drive, in order for me to pick up my things at the house and head to the Loches station to get my train back to Tours, and then on to Paris. Not very good planning, but no one seemed to mind.

It's amazing how much we were able to fit into a short, and truncated at that, overnight visit. And I got to meet two of Marie's siblings, her nephew, sister in law, cousins, friend, grandson, re meet an adult Zoe, see Mont Felix and do a bit of landscaping, as well as walk through the family land and see three properties I hadn't ever known were part of the estate. Plus see some of beautful old Tours and delightful, not yet overtouristed, Loches. Intermixed with some wonderful French cooking and some Lebanese, topped off by a garlic festival! Not to mention the best of all, the delight and pleasure of reconnecting with an old friend.

Loches, part II

Something is fishy with the computer. I wrote last night for several hours and then lost the whole thing. So this part of the tale is actually being written for the second time around, and I am saving and publishing more frequently. Sadly, this account of my visit to Loches will likely be shorter. And we packed an amazing amount into a mere thirty hours together. Which I will now attempt to re-recount, still struggling, mind you, with a French keyboard where a's are q's and l's are colons and periods are, strangely, upper case and exclamations and parentheses are lower, and I can't even begin to deal with French accent marks though I would love to use them. All this interspersed with people asking me how to say, for instance, flush the toilet, in English!

Everything procedes wonderfully well with the mosaic, aside from the fact that we are coming down to the wire and are a little concerned about the time. Yesterday, Monday, about half of the group worked several extra hours, by choice, and we may all need to do that today.

So, back, for the moment, to Loches.

When we were in school together here, all those years ago, Marie and I would go down to Mont Felix together on some weekends. At that point, the chateau was elegant and a bit forbidding and I must confess to having been a little awed and intimidated by Marie's father, although that may have been more me than him.

Now, Marie's sister Francie owns Mont Felix, and rents it out by the weekend. It had gone into somewhat of a deline, and also a theft of many of the furnishings, after Marie's father's death. Francie has restored it, installed new bathrooms and plumbing, and it looks great again. Some parts are closed off, I guess because they don't meet housing standards. Francie has also installed a pool with a small poolhouse that has a chalet type look, totally at odds with the chateau, but understandably a draw as far as rentals.

We went to visit and do some work to prepare for the arrival of a family of guests that afternoon, although there is a woman who looks after the property and does most of the work. The family arrived promptly at 4pm, as scheduled, seemingly to the surprise of Marie, Tim, and Marie's brother Charles, who I had finally met for the first time. He and his son, Victor, live in California and visit periodically. They have another small building on the property that they are restoring.

The family was a man, a small boy, and what appeared to be three young women. Perhaps one of them was the mother, I don't know. They spoke, and sounded, English. Marie thought she detected an accent, perhaps Dutch, that I didn't hear. Everyone but Marie, who was happily deadheading roses and geraniums around the house, wanted to leave so as not to intrude on the family. Marie said we were doing something positive for the house, that they would appreciate, not mind. I wondered if the family knew that aside from me, everyone was a relative of the chateau owners, or if they thought we were the gardening staff, which I guess we actually were.

Later, we strolled down the road to another property on the family land, previously a farmhouse and before that, a few centuries back, a monastery and way station for pilgrims on the way to St. Juan de Compostela, if I've got it right. Marie and Charles remember that when they were kids there were cows and horses on the property. Now their brother John and his wife Brigitte, having lived around the world working for the UN High Commission on Refugees, have retired here and restored the buildings beautifully and live there. We sat outside and had tea, along with visiting American cousins, from, of all places, Newton Ma. Polly is the daughter of Marie's aunt, her father's brother. Walter, her husband, never really knew his father, who died as a medic in World War II. After his mother died, he discovered a cache of letters from his father to his mother, and researched and wrote a book. Now he leads trips to the Normandy battlegrounds. This is his 11th year doing so.

Well, time to head out to work at the mosaic atelier. More later, I have barely begun relating the details of my brief sojourn in Loches.

A quick weekend to Loches

I had meant to go to Loches, in chateau country, last Friday evening, to see my old friend Marie. She and I had gone to school here in Paris nearly forty years ago. We have seen each other sporadically since, and had all but lost touch when, thanks to the wonders of the internet, we reconnected a few months ago.

Marie is half French, half American. Her mother, who had died when Marie was quite young, had been of French nobility, and her family had inherited a chateau in the Loire Valley, where the family spent most of Marie's childhood summers. Her father had been the headmaster at Choate, and then later, of the American School in Madrid. By the time we met, he had retired and was living at Mont Felix. Now, Mont Felix may have been small by the standards of chateau country, but in terms of houses, it is impressive indeed. I especially remember her brother Charles' room, with an ornate bed set into a large niche. Marie's room had originally been a maid's quarters, and was the only part of the place with normal height ceilings and a cozy feel.

My plan had been to take the train down Friday, and have a full two days there. Unfortunately, there were a series of misunderstandings between me and the French railroad system. The Friday evening trains were full, and I wound up returning to our apt. I'd made a reservation at the station for an early Sat am train, and arrived in Tours for my connection at a little after 9. The train was 10 minutes late, and there had been 10 minutes late.The next train was at 11:30. I watched for the track to be posted, then watched as 11:30 passed and the train info was removed from the board. Finally, I made the 12:15 and arrived in Loches shortly after 1pm I had called Marie and left a message I wasn't sure she'd receive. She had, and she and Tim were waiting at the station. It was the first time we'd seen each other in at least 15 years.

To be continued...

Wednesday; half way thru the project

It's Wednesday evening after supper. People are sitting around playing cards, on the computer, cleaning up from supper, and just relaxing. A bunch of people have gone out for the evening, to the Champs Elysees. I'm not sure what they will see or do there, or if they will be disappointed. I was having a conversation with Ji Hoon this afternoon. She says she has been disappointed by everything here; she expected so much more, like the words she and a bunch of the group were singing last week. about how you'll find anything you want on the Champs-Elysees. When I first visited here many years ago, it was really elegant, (although I doubt I would have found anything I wanted) Now it is so commercialized and overtouristed, with chain stores and restaurants. That's true of the Latin Quarter as well, packed with souvenir stores and other places catering to tourists. Last time I was here I was startled to see a Claire's jewelry store on the Blvd. St. Michelle; now it doesn't surprise me, just makes me sad.

I have been interviewing all the people in our group for the organization's blog; I'll probably put some or all of it on here once I've spoken to everyone. One of the things I'm asking everyone is what made them choose this particular project. Invariably, part of the answer is because it is in Paris, and that certainly holds true for me as well. This led to discussion this afternoon about the perception people have of Paris, and why, and if their perceptions of the city have changed since arriving here.

Some people are disappointed in Paris; others are disappointed that we don't have more free time to explore the city. The project description did say, pretty clearly I thought, that folks shouldn't expect to have a lot of time for sightseeing, and should plan extra time for that outide of the project dates. But people get frustrated and opionated nevertheless. I still do think, though, that things are going remarkably well, especially considering the large numbers and close quarters. And in our group, at least, I think people are generally very satisfied with the mosaic project itself. The other group did not see m all that satisfied with their gardening work.
It was hot and it was hard work. For some reason the amount of space they were working on this year was very small, and they have already finished. So they are now working with neighborhood children, which everyone seems to actually prefer. Plus, they are now working on an afternoon schedule. We now therefore have two breakfast shifts, because they don't have to wake up early anymore, and two lunch shifts. They eat at 12:30 and leave here at 1:30; we get back here between 2 and 2:30. It has helped to relieve the crowding since we are on such different schedules.

We have a team of 4 each day, two from each group, who are responsible for cooking and cleaning. Those people don't particpate in the project that day. On other projects I have appreciated the break and change of pace; on this one I really don't want to miss the project. But tomorrow is my turn to cook, etc.


( I had written much more last night, but then lost the internet and the rest of what I wrote, so will have to recreate it. Interesting stuff, too, I thought, about group dynamics and one person in particular who has some special needs. So I hope you will stay tuned, and I hope I will have time to get back to documenting things, too. Tomorrow I will leave to spend the weekend with my old college friend Marie in the Loire valley, where she has lived most of the time since we went to school together here. We haven't seen each other in at least 15 years!)

Tuesday, week two

Yesterday the mosaic group was supposed to meet with people from Freres des Hommes (brothers of man) an international aid association which is one of the organizations sponsoring our project. They are planning both a photographic exposition and a space on their blog featuring our project, and had hoped to have participation from some of the volunteers. Beside Laurent and Lucille, though, the two leaders of our mosaic group, and me, none of the volunteers was interested. Folks were quite forthright about saying either that they wanted more time to visit places in Paris, or to sleep. And I can certainly understand. So did L and L, I think, although they were a little disappointed that not more people wanted to come along. So the three of us went by Metro to the Latin Quarter, where the organization's offices are.

There, we brainstormed about what we should feature on their blog, and came up with several ideas, including interviewing the volunteers. I'm very proud that my French is getting good enough that I can understand much of the conversations and even contribute sometimes. So a bit earlier today, after our mosaic work, I started interviewing people in our group about why they chose this project, and what they think about how things are going. I've done four so far, and will add some of the info here once I have interviewed everyone. It's been interesting; even though I have talked to everyone to some extent, I am having some different conversations with people.

This morning we continued our work on the mosaic. Things seem to be progressing well. I really didn't want to stop when it was time to clean up, and I wasn't the only one. We are working on small panels of the large mural, which will eventually be rejoined on the wall. One concern I have is how well the design will meld at the junctures, especially since some design elements are split by the separations. Not only do we have to pay attention to the colors so that they match, but different people have different styles in regard to how closely they lay the tiles, what size pieces they use, etc. Giselle keeps telling us we have to see the big picture, not just the part we are working on. She tells up to get up on the chairs periodically to get a better overview. On the other hand, she also keeps telling us how beautiful things look. She gives us suggestions, but also encourages us to use our own ideas and judgement. First thing this morning she told us each to work on a different panel than the one we did yesterday. I was at first dismayed. I had been working on an element that featured two faces in profile with pursed lips, as if ready to kiss. The original plan had been to use a neutral color for the backround that was kind of a blend of the two skin colors in the faces. Giselle suggested mirrored tiles instead for the background ( she had found a broken mirror that morning, so we cut up some squarish tiles, and it looked great. But someone else picked it up this morning while I worked on a mottled green background on another panel. I do think that Giselle is right, despite my initial disappointment; it makes much better sense for the whole thing to be a collective effort.

In the middle of the morning Laurent's phone rang with a call for me. It was my old friend Marie, with whom I went to school here many years ago. We've kept in touch very sporadically through the years. She lives a couple of hours south of Paris as she has for most of the time since I've known her. It's been probably 15 years since we've seen or even talked to each other personally. I located her on Facebook a month or two ago, and hopefully we'll be able to visit with each other next weekend. There's some community event that all of us are supposed to partici
pate in this Sat and I feel a bit guilty about skipping out on it. But I feel like I've been a pretty good camper so far, and hopefully no one will be too annoyed with me if I'm not here.

Today I am writing from our apt. rather than the Internet Cafe, which is a real treat. The cafe is only a few blocks away, and it's not terrible. But it is computers elbow to elbow, and some people talking quite loudly on them, as well as other people also talking loudly from the telephone booths surrounding the computers. Last night the woman next to me was talking long and loud to who I am guessing was her daughter, from the conversation and from my snooping over her shoulder. They must have said goodbye and blown kisses to each other for 10 minutes, no kidding. Then, just after they hung up they were back on the phone again. I tried looking over at her a few times just to indicate how loud she was being. But I also felt bad and wondered about her situation. Whatever it is, I am sure being separated isn't easy on them. At least computers might make things a bit easier. Or might it make being separated harder?

I didn't mention why I am able to write from home today. Freres des Hommes actually lent us a computer to use for working on the blog. And Laurent decided that my blog counted as valid use, I guess since I may use parts of it for the other blog, or at least provide a link. There is one computer at the house brought by one of the Spanish volunteers. Gorka is remarkably generous about sharing it, and it is constant demand. Half the time we can't get an internet connection, and people are always lined up waiting to use it. Even though many people use it for long lengths of time once they get to it, and most of the Europeans also have cell phones (mobiles, as they are known here) I still don't feel comfortable using it for long enough to write.

Ten minutes ago it was quiet here, in the late afternoon. Now suddenly the cooking/cleaning team has emerged to begin preparing dinner and are busy chopping onions and I don't know what else. I am not sure what the meal is, but I know it will be a Senegalese specialty. Omar, a friend of Paul's, has come over to cook for us. I must say that we have been eating very well. Our budget, which is 6.1 per person per day, covers plenty of good food, cheeses, etc. with money left over to cover some trips and admissions. This is truly Paris on $10 per day, including room and board! The cost to volunteers is $300 for the three weeks.

Well, in addition to the Senegalese dinner, I just heard there's a klezmer concert someplace tonight!

I think it's time to leave this blog and transcibe my interviews. I should at least do something truly related to the Freres des Hommes blog:

Til later.

More mosaic details

I am going to try to briefly catch up on our project, after all the raison d'etre of my trip here! But I hope to make it short because it is getting late and starting to get dark, and I haven't yet had supper. I hope they saved me some. Our cooking teams have been doing a great job and we have been eating well. There have been plenty of intersesting group dynamics going on, as you might expect with a group of nearly thirty. I will try next time to relate some of the group interractions. I am making progress with the French keyboard, but it is still slow going and frustrating.

Today we began to actually construct the design. Last week we had created the design, trying to incorporate some of everyone's ideas, itself an interesting process. We painted it, then laid plastic over it. This morning we traced the entire thing in black marker, then lifted it off the painted design, and hung the design on the wall (all this inside the atelier apartment. It will go on the outide wall later.)

We then cut the piece into 7 segments for teams to work on. To each segment we taped netting to which we would adhere the pieces of tile and glass. And then we begun to glue pieces on, doing further cutting where necessary to fit the spaces.

I will stop here, as it is nearly 10 pm and beginning to get dark. To be continued, hopefully soon.


A la prochain!

The