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Posts from the ‘Paris’ Category

No. 344: August in Paris

shhhh_the_secret_to_Paris.jpgShhhh…I am going to let you in on a little secret: The best time to visit Paris is.…..August. (Now that  you know, promise me you’ll keep it under your hat.)

With apologies to my French girlfriends who were born and raised in Paris (and I think you might secretly agree), there are no two ways about it, the eighth month of the year here, is just fine. More than fine. Me thinks it is perfectly divine.! Yes siree. August is the most wonderful time of the year!

Why, you ask? Well…I have to say quite frankly, the Parisians have vanished and gone on vacances. Lucky us! Quelle chance!

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There are simply no Parisians to be found here or there or anywhere.

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A breath of fresh air has swept into town, and we can all get off the defensive and relax just a bit. No angry drivers honking and screeching. No stare downs and games of chicken on the crowded sidewalks. And no naughty little boys to stomp all over the ceiling or steal the mail.

Okay, so a few stores and restaurants might be closed (maybe only 70 percent), and yes, there is a large handful of tourists milling about, mais neither are a big inconvenience, compared to feeling like “I’m king (queen) of the World!”

I know it sounds crass, but it is truly freeing to be in Paris without the Parisians. It is the month of the year where I relearn to smile at, and say “hello” to strangers on the street. I remember how nice it is to be smiled back at by other expats and unhurried tourists all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

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It is the month I let my guard down and open myself up to new possibilities and positivity. It is the month of gossiping with girlfriends in empty cafés, strolling along the Seine with your sweetheart in hand, the moon in sight, and lounging on the Paris Plage sipping a pamplemousse pressé watching the world go by.

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August in Paris. Yippee!!

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No. 309: The Herbs on my Windowsill

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To understand how much I love the herbs growing right outside my kitchen window, you have to understand the climate, weather patterns and wildlife from where I use to live. It is a big misnomer to think of Colorado as the freezing cold, snowy state in the U.S. While we do get our fair share of snow (much less nowadays with global warming), Colorado is the state that boast 300-days of sunshine every year. I’m not even sure Florida can say that.

So you would think that with that much sunshine, I would be able to have a pretty awesome herb and vegetable garden. Mais, non. Where I live in Colorado is known for the wild Chinook winds that howl through the foothills and end in rowdy microbursts in my backyard.

…our backyard...

…our backyard…

To give you an idea of what that means, we once lost a 2-ton industrial play structure one evening while out to dinner. The wind funnel simply picked it up and tossed it a hundred feet into my neighbor’s yard. We have lost several barbecue grills, wrought iron chairs, swimming pools filled with water, too many trash bins to count, a slide, and a couple of windows. A neighbor had the terracotta tiles completely stripped from her roof and rain down all over our lawns. Quite different from the kind of showers we have in Paris.

In Colorado, we constantly have to rework our dinner parties and meals based on the blazing sunshine and the wind. I’ve learned always to have a backup plan when it comes to parties that involve outside grilling. Fun fact: a grill will not stay lit in 60-100 mph winds…for that matter it won’t even stay on your deck. On really windy nights, our iron bed with both of us in it jiggles on the carpeted floor and the water is sucked from all the toilets.

So imagine a pitiable petite stalk of basil or tarragon trying desperately to beat the elements. Almost always my much-wanted herbs cry “Uncle” a week or two after I plant them, succumbing to those tenacious gusts and the stifling temperature.

If they do manage to get a foothold and green up, the elk and the deer are more than happy to stroll through the cul-de-sac and boldly have a light snack at dawn and dusk. If the big brown quadrupeds don’t happen to be hungry, the greedingl and antagonistic squirrels are delighted to add some seasoning to their nuts. And then of course there are the mini, but mighty, grey voles and our crazy neighbor’s skeletal hound that pees a fountain on everything, herbs and my own dog included…

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…so this is why j’adore my hardy and healthy herbs à Paris. To me, my four window boxes of herbs are nothing short of a miracle….

…Thai basil chicken tonight, lamb with tarragon and thyme tomorrow, and fresh mint tea daily. Yippee!

No. 304-308: Five Things I love about le Quartorze Juillet à Paris

You can pretty much count on the French to go all out for their beloved quatorze juillet festivities in an average year, but this year it seems likes efforts have been twice doubled as the world marks the centennial of the First World War. It has been a day of huge and meaningful celebrations in the capital and around France. It has also been a lot of fun.

But before I get to the five things that I love about this day, let’s clear up a significant vocabulary inconsistency between us Anglophones and the Francophones. Chiefly: this day is NEVER called Bastille Day in France. It is ALWAYS called le Quatorze Juillet (the fourteenth of July) or la Fête Nationale (literally, National Day). Even though le Quatorze Juillet does commemorate the storming of the Bastille Prison—the beginning of the French Revolution (1789) and the end of the monarchy in France, please don’t wish a French person a “Happy Bastille Day” today. Such a greeting will unquestionably confirm to them that you are indeed one strange (and misguided) étranger, clearly a few clowns short of a circus. When in doubt, please stick to bonne fête, mais no more “Happy Bastille Day” s’il vous plaît.

With that common mistake cleared up, let’s move on to the Five Things I Love about le Quartorze Juillet à Paris:

The Parade: The French know how to put on a parade, that’s for darn sure. This year 76 countries who were all involved in the conflict, regardless of which side they fought on, were invited to march down the Champs-Elysées from the Arc de Triomphe to Place de la Concorde. Although I didn’t actually count, there were supposed to be 53 planes, 203 vehicles, 82 motorbikes, 36 helicopters, 3,752 soldiers, the President of the Republic, François Hollande, hundreds of horses, numerous WWI wheeled cannons, a WWI American ambulance, the surviving ‘Marne taxis’ used to transport reinforcements to the Marne battlefields during the war, and a partridge in a pear tree. Of course, as always, there were the impressive and tricolor military flyovers. (Major props to demotix photos for their excellent photos of the parade. Something is up with my camera. Vive mon iPhone!)

The Dorky but Sincere Interpretive Dance: As this was an extra special quartorze juillet, those adorable and sincere Frenchies added an unique centennial flourish on the Place de la Concorde at the parade’s end. Choreographer José Montalvo set a dance performed by young couples dressed in black and white, each with a dove in hand, to “deliver a message of universal peace”. Its necessary seriousness made me giggle, I must admit. (Is that bad?) The best way to describe this dance was to listen to the squeals of certain expats which sounded something like this: “Oh, my gosh. That’s SOOOOOOO…. French!” Enough said. (Please check back to watch the video once it is released.)

source: AP images

source: AP images

Le Fête des Tuileries and the Poilu Bivouac: On this exceptional fourteenth of July, a fascinating WWI infantry camp was setup in the Tuileries Gardens just across from Place de la Concorde along side the annual family friendly Fête des Tuileries, a fair with the customary sketchy carnival rides, French themed food vendors, and the same lovely (but way over-priced) ferris wheel that graces that space during the Christmas holidays. It all felt a little like “home” —wherever that is for me these days.

The Firemen’s Ball: The fetching French fire brigade throw two huge parties to mark this day of independence from the monarchy: one on the night of July 13, and one the night of July 14. Each night the young and the old, and everyone in between, start to gather around 9:00 pm and keep on partying until the wee hours of the morning. In Paris le Bal des Pompiers are held in firehouses in each arrondissements. Le ball features live entertainment, crazy costumes, wild wigs, fairy lights, beer and champagne, and street dancing, but meeting the dishy pompiers up-close-and-personally is the real draw for many merrymakers. If you like Michael Jackson, and the Village People (think “YMCA”), and/or have a Chippendale dancers fetish, this is the place for you…bring your five Euro notes. An old-style drum is left at the entrance for revelers to donate funds for improvements to the firehouses and to increased staffing.

source: wikipedia

source: wikipedia

…I want to stay at the YMCA...

…I want to stay at the YMCA…

The Fireworks:  On the eve of la Fête Nationale, firework displays are everywhere in France. In Paris les feux d’artifice light up the skies behind the Eiffel Tower and this year it was too spectacular for words. I will never see a fireworks show like this again. In fact, I don’t have enough superlatives in my vocabulary to describe the wonders on the Champ de Mars tonight. It was, as the rest of the day was, a remembrance of those who fought and died in WWI. Mostly classical music was used to tell the story of the last 100 years, with John Lennon’s Imagine to remind us of what is possible. Chapeau to the fabulous French and their ability to express themselves through art. I so love this aspect of France and the French. Simply stunning. Incroyable!

Vocabulaire

Chapeau: a tip of the hat

étranger: ‪foreigner, ‪stranger, ‪alien, ‪outsider, ‪intruder

Incroyable! Incredible!

le Bal des Pompiers: Firemen’s Ball

les feux d’artifice: fireworks

pompiers: firemen

No. 302: Grilled Summertime Vegetables

It is summertime in France and the open markets are bursting with color and flavor. Since barbecuing is technically illegal in Paris, given the fire hazard and all….we have to head to our local restos to get a plate of perfectly grilled vegetables. But nothing tastes better on a long summer’s night. Don’t you agree?

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No. 299-300: Le Petit Palais et la Belle Époque

Kitcat was in town last weekend and since she is my “expo-kid”, we decided to make a leisurely visit to le Petit Palais and the wonderful exhibition ‘Paris 1900, The City of Entertainment’. I know I am a cliché, but I adore this period of French history, la belle époque, and turn-of-the-century Paris. I suspect there are many American Francophiles who do. If I had a time machine, I would slap on my button boots, slip on my pouter-pigeon blouse and trumpet-skirt, grab my feathered chapeau and set the dial for Paris, June 1900 and la Exposition Universelle

Mais malheureusement, time machines are still a vision of the future, so an afternoon at le Petit Palais will have to suffice. Amazingly there are over 600 works on display in the gorgeous ‘small palace’ that was designed by Charles Girault for the exposition. I cannot imagine a more perfect venue than these halls where the hatted and coiffed western world came to discover what the new century held. It must have been a real lollapalooza!

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The exhibition is organized into six ‘pavilions’ beginning with ‘Paris, window on the world’ featuring Gare de Lyon, Gare d’Orsay and Gare des Invalides, as well as Hector Guimard’s fabulous métro entrances. The expo ends with two pavilions focusing on the posh and wild world of entertainment on offer in Paris at the turn of the century—from opera to café singing, to Sarah Bernhardt and Debussy to brothels and circus acts, to everything else Baz Luhrmann would have us imagine in his fanciful film Moulin Rouge.

Filling the space in the middle are art nouveau posters and paintings, costumes, gowns, jewelry, everyday objects, objets d’art, sculptures, furniture, fine-arts, stained-glass windows, photographs and corridors filled with life-sized footage of revelers and curious fair-goers. A whole ‘pavillion’ is devoted to the myth of la Parisienne—the elegant Parisian women whose mystique still captures the imagination of women (and men) around the world.

 

Cézanne, Monet, Renoir, Pissarro, and Vuillard, are featured alongside Gérôme, Bouguereau, Gervex, Béraud, Degas, Besnard and, of course, Rodin and Toulouse-Lautrec…le Chat Noir, anyone?

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In lieu of a vrai time machine, this marvelous time capsule housed at le Petit Palais until August 17 will provide you with your Belle Époque fix and dazzle you with the promise and creativity from a storybook era long gone.

Vocabulaire

Mais malheureusement: But unfortunately

vraireal

No. 298: Eiffel’s Café Chair Tower

eiffel=tower-red-chairs.jpgIf you have been following my final 365-days in France, you know that I am mad for the Eiffel Tower and anything Eiffel inspired. For the past few weeks, we have been seeing double on the Champ de Mars, so I have been doubly happy…well it also helps that we have come to the end of five-weeks of back-to-back visitors, but that’s another story…

Even if I wasn’t overjoyed by the chance to reclaim our apartment, I would still be tickled pink (or crimson) by the two Eiffel Towers gracing the park en ce moment. A French company has temporarily set up a 40-foot red Eiffel Tower made from 324 café chairs to celebrate the upcoming 125th anniversary of Gustave’s most famous landmark.

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The fire engine-red sculpture will only be on the Champ de Mars until tomorrow afternoon, although rumor has it, it is being secretly transferred to an undisclosed location somewhere else in the City of Light. Stay tuned.

No. 297: Bubble Tea

IMG_7381I know bubble tea was invented in Taiwan 30 years ago, but I never tasted it until I moved to Paris. It is a rare treat for me, and deadly calorific, but it is a favorite of Button’s, and we were out-and-about at the Centre Pompidou yesterday, so stopped in for a cuppa.

It is the “bobas” or the small tapioca pearls that she loves and that give the tea its name.

The Chinese prefer the bubble black tea, but I prefer the light almond-milk tea or the mango bubbles. What do you prefer?

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