Yom Kippur in Paris

Monday was a beautiful day in Paris. High 60's with bright sunshine.  We decided to spend the afternoon at Place des Vosges, and revisit the neighbourhood where we spent our first year in Paris in the Marais. The parks and streets were crowded with people, especially at Place des Vosges which seems to be a through fare for kids from a nearby school. Our bench in the sun afforded excellent people watching and was a good place to work on the day's crossword puzzle and people. 

Place des Vosges is near the traditional Jewish quarter. It looked like Jews from all over the city had come in to the traditional synagogues for Yom Kippur.  Women and children in their sabbath best along with husbands donning hats and yarmulkes. Their dress was distinctive - from heavy dark clothes and wigs to jeans and sandals.  The park soon began to fill with Jews of every sort on break from their synagogue. It seemed that there were multitudes!  Each group different; from the ultra-orthodox, to the merely orthodox to the highly observant to the barely observant. It must have been like this in the 19th Century.  It seemed a perfect day to gather on the grass and benches for a good gossip and to catch up with one another.   

Crossing the street together

Christina and I do not fight about a lot of issues. That's one of the nicest things about being past the young family days. We don't have a lot of irreconcilable differences about raising children or money. 

One issue that remains a bone of serious contention is crossing the street. Chris is from Canada and has no idea about how to efficiently cross the street. She is forever stopping when the light changes, even if there are no cars moving! Over the years she has become increasingly erratic, stopping and starting like a broken toy. She claims I have traumatized her by heedlessly rushing into oncoming traffic. She gives no credence to my extensive experience and superior instincts. She believes that intersections and traffic lights are sacred. I know they're just advisory. It's like being married to Rudi Guliani (who tried to prosecute jaywalkers).  As a result, we go through a little dance at every crossing. If I, or we, are ever killed crossing the street, you'll know why. Chris stopped us in the middle while trying to go back.

The problem is even worse in Paris because there are many more complex intersections with 5 and 6 roads coming together. In addition, Parisian drivers, especially the omnipresent scooters, motorcycles and bicycles, pay little attention to lights, sidewalks or pedestrians. So, you aren't safe anywhere! 

This could all turn out badly for me! Either I'll be killed crossing the street or Christina will leave me claiming emotional cruelty!  

Rebuttal:  In my own defense, I think this is really a "Venus vs Mars" issue with a little dash of stubbornness (Chris doesn't usually admit to being stubborn!) thrown in--AND it really has NOTHING to do with being from Canada!  You have to picture us -- Paul making a purposeful stride into oncoming traffic while I dig in my heels, and dry with all my might to hold him back!  It would leave you laughing!

Je Parle Beaucoup!

When we first started coming to Paris, I imagined myself speaking the language in no time.  Here we are in our 7th 'rentree' and I still struggle and throw in English or sometimes even German when I just can't think of the right thing to say.  Over the years I've enrolled in various kinds of group languages classes but this year, I'm working with a private tutor, three times a week, for 2 hours each morning.  My mornings with le prof. Isabelle are filled with lots of talk and laughter.  Her goal is to take the 'ugly American' sounds that come from my lips and fashion them into something that resembles the lilting tones of the French!  I sit facing her, looking into a mirror to get the shape of my mouth 'just so' all the while the tape recorder is running so that I can take my lesson home, listen and practise!  I never knew that there were so many different ways to contort my mouth, position my tongue and make sounds in different areas of my throat.  And, by the way, did you know that when Americans speak, our voice register goes from high to low???  Well, here in Paris, one must accentuate the last syllable and end on a high note!  After two hours with plenty of 'parlaying' we go over the vocabulary of the day and she sends me home with piles of homework!  I'm working harder at this then anything I've done in a long time and think I'm making SOME progress.  The proof will be 'in the pudding' when I meet up with my French friend Danielle, who has kindly invited me and another friend to coffee next week--just the girls so that I can practise my French.  Keep your fingers crossed for me.  I'll keep you posted.  

A la prochaine,

C!

Fete dans la rue!

Walking in Paris is always an adventure for us simply because the 'grid' system doesn't exist.  The idea of going around the block thinking that you'll end up on the street you started on gets us in trouble every time.  For a confirmed 'flaneur' (someone who strolls), like me, it can be a problem especially if there's somewhere we have to be.

However, sometimes like last night it leads to something quite wonderful.  Imagine coming upon a lively bunch sitting in front of a shop--in this case it was a custom hat shop--at a table decked with sushi, oysters and copious bottles of wine.  This was the scene which greeted us as we made our detour walking home from dinner at 10:30pm.  You know that this is what I think of as an 'opportunity'!  I just can't resist stopping, and so I asked, "qu'est-ce que c'est?"  Well, it turns out that it was a celebration with guests from Argentina, New York, and Paris and they were delighted to speak with us--we even got a taste of wine!  In the few short minutes we stopped, we discovered that a celebration on a warm night can spill into the street quite easily and strangers walking by can be made to feel welcome.  

Chez Dumonet

**

We haven't been writing much about our restaurant
experiences in New York, because we have been eating out less frequently and
enjoying the taste of homecooking more.

 

But, within a couple of days of arriving in Paris
we had a absolutely wonderful experience. We generally don't go to Michelin
starred restaurants in Paris, except for special occasions. A 3* restaurant can
easily run to $300 - $500 a person - before wine! Our palates are not that
discriminating, and a big part of the cost goes to providing flawless service.
 We prefer smaller, more intimate restaurants with excellent food. We use both
Michelin and Zagats (which has gotten much better in recent years) and local
publications to identify interesting sounding places.  Sometimes locals or other
travelers give us tips about a new or an unusual spot. 

 

This week we went a restaurant called Chez Dumonet on
Rue du Cherche Midi. It's a small, very informal restaurant established in the
1800's and by the look of the decor, nothing much has changed.  The same family
has been running the place lately for at least two generations.  Besides the
food, they've gotten service down pat and judging from the warm and familiar
greeting given to those walking through the front door, it's clear that this is
a neighbourhood place where people come back on a regular basis.  By the time we
were comfortably seated, a waiter came by splashing white wine into our glasses
and setting two yummy amuse bouches before us--a wonderful beginning!   Chris
started with a big pot of pickeled herring and lyonnaise potatoes. She was in
seventh heaven. I started with a country terrine. For the main course I had a
whole baby duck served roasted with a brown sauce. It was delivered atop a bed
of wilted fried cabbage that was outstanding. Chris had a pigeon millefeuille
that made us both wonder if there was an opportunity back in NYC where we seem
to have an abundance of pigeons right in front of our building!  The meal was
great and the envy of the table next to us who had played it safe with fillet of
beef and green salad!  We'd decided to pass on desert but it was not to be--out
came a large plate with a sampling of goodies that included all Chris's
favourites which we promptly consumed with coffee.  Not a crumb was left behind
as we left satisfied with a smile on our face. Who ever said that service was
only great in restaurants with star ratings! 

 

It was the kind of restaurant where everybody
was very friendly. We were sitting in the front near the bar and got a good
sense of the restaurant. People were still waiting to be seates when we left at
10:00. The chef came out to ask how we liked everthing and stayed to chat for a
few minutes. Overall, it's the kind of restaurant you hope to find in Paris, or
anywhere.

 

 

Postcard from Burgundy

A weekend in Cluny

Our annual trek to France began in Burgundy this year; primarily to visit Lyons and our friends Narissa and Tony in Cluny. What a delight! Not only did we thoroughly enjoy Lyons (the gastronomic capital of France according to the guidebooks), but our visit with friends just outside of Cluny was fortuitous given that there was a major weekend fete to celebrate the 1100 anniversery of the founding of the city! First off, let me tell you that Tony and Narissa live in a wonderfully renovated old farm house complete with a number of outbuildings, an outdoor shower and two cats--just to make us feel at home! They are both generous hosts and it's easy to see how they became captivated with the area. Above, you can see us eating breakfast infront of the old "piggery". Our visit coincided with Tony's birthday so the wine flowed generously and of course there were meals to match. The meal at a local chateaux was only outdone by the picnic the following day in the streets of Cluny. Picture this--12 gates to the city that reflect the historic role as a gateway. Each gate and the street leading from it was assigned a designated color; as were the towns adjacent to those gates. The people from those villages were asked to dress in that color and come to town for a picnic. Each street was decorated by the towns and tables for picnic lunches provided. We were the green gate, so we wore green and ivy leaf tiaras The tables were set, food and wine passed along the rows--people outdid themselves in local specialties and we ate and drank enough to last us through that and into the next day! How lucky for us to be welcomed by all their neighbours and friends. If only I hadn't tried to run over several people as we were leaving the village!

Notes from the edge of catastrophe

Many of you know that Christina likes to drive, and is usually quite capable. This trip has proven to be harrowing. Maybe it's the narrow, twisty roads or the crazy car and scooter drivers; or the unfamiliar manual transmission. Whatever, I have been seriously reconsidering the existence of God. We can't afford to be too careful. (Aside from the driver's seat:  I'll admit that I sometimes like to be 'in control' especially while driving, but....harrowing????  He is the cool one in our family, seldom ruffled so I must really have given him a scare!  But, I was the one sweating! 

 

The drive from Lyons to Cluny (to visit our friends Tony and Narissa) was uneventful-- with GPS, but beginning with Chris' attempt to roll over an entire family who were standing behind the car, we embarked on a journey to Paris long to be remembered. 

 

Our first stop was in the small village of Aloxe-Corton to spend the night at the lovely Hotel Villa Louisa attached to a small vineyard. Also uneventful, except for a small scratch (see picture) in the rental car. (Aside: the lane to the parking spot was several inches less then the width of the car.)

 

The next morning we left for Paris via Epoisse to buy the stinky cheese of the same name.  Little did we expect the forces of evil awaiting us at every turn! Unfortunately, Chris, coming from a small town in the US, is not used to city traffic; where any hesitation is pounced on by aggressive competitors; usually on motor scooters. (Aside:  Keep in mind that the roads are narrow, we have little gas and are looking for petrol stations  while the voice on the GPS mutilates names  beyond recognition. Is it any wonder I didn't know where to turn??)

 

Incredibly, we got to our apartment and managed to find a semi-legal spot in front of the building to unload luggage and groceries.  This uneventful arrival lulled us into complacency!  The last leg was not as easy.  The Hertz offices are actually in a parking garage attached to the Louvre. Having spent hours trying to find it two years ago, we were prepared. We "zipped" down Rue de Rivoli to the sign for the garage located at a major intersection with what seemed like 8 lanes of traffic heading towards us with a single lane on the left to enter the garage! (Aside:  I hope you've got the picture because to me it looked like I was turning into oncoming traffic!) We panicked and missed the turn.

 

This resulted in us circling around (think of circling around Times Square on a summer Saturday) to make another approach. This time  we zipped down into the garage; whew!  There's no Hertz! A workman in the garage told us:  "Ooh la la.... Hertz is up! not down!" No hope we could make a U-turn into all those lanes of traffic; we had to go around again! 

 

Despite the frequent need, U turns are not Chris' strong point. We sometimes travel miles to find a suitable place. Not possible this time so with eyes closed  (figuratively) she made the turn and we were successful. 

 

We walked home and don't plan to be driving over the next few weeks. Thank God!