Paris Journal 2008
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Jim H. was kind to send a list of concerts and dance performances, many of them free, to us. We went to one on Friday, a concert by the Bamboo Orchestra, in the garden at the Musée du Quai Branly. The music we heard was mostly percussion, much of it played on instruments made from bamboo. But there were also a couple of large drums, suspended sideways on tall frames. The drums had animal skins stretched over them, and they were played by a percussionist holding up large wooden sticks that looked like spatulas. The time signatures were Asian, and nothing that Tom could put a name to. However, Tom said he could probably play along with this group. I loved the deep, wild sound of the big drums. Tom said that kind of drum would have been originally carved from a large tree trunk. Afterwards, we walked down through the 7th arrondissement to the restaurant called Le Basilic, a play on words since the restaurant is located behind the basilica Sainte Clotilde. We were the only English speaking people in the place. Everybody was speaking French. There were many prosperous looking middle-aged and older people seated in the interior. More casually dressed people sat on the terrace. We were inside, but right by one of the open French doors, so we were practically outside. Our server was a young man that I remember from a couple years ago, when he was first starting his job. Back then, he took the time to explain to us his opinion that often the best food is the simplest. He’s in the right place, because this restaurant’s specialty is leg of lamb, roasted and served with beans – a very traditional, simple, country French dish. This is what Tom ordered. Even my dish, a duck breast, was grilled and served whole, not in dainty little slices, with a fruity sauce and puréed potatoes. The food was very, very good, as always. At the end of the meal, our earnest young server noticed my Obama button with approval. We did friendly fist bumps. He then gave a miniature speech on why he thinks it is very important, for the sake of the entire world, that Obama be elected. He was deadly serious about this, not cracking even the least bit of a smile. Yesterday, Tom and I went on a very long walk up through the 8th arrondissement to the Parc Monceau. What a lovely park that is. And it is so heavily used by Parisian families on the weekend. But to get there and to go home, we had to pass over the Champs Elysées. I don’t understand why so many people think that when they come to Paris, they have to stay near the Champs Elysées. It is really becoming tacky again, and it is so busy that it does not have the feel of a real neighborhood where real people live. I guess the part of the Champs that is mostly trees and park is okay. But the part of the Champs where we needed to cross was the part that is very commercial, and just crazy. We deliberately chose to do this on a Saturday, so there would be a little less traffic, but there were still mobs of people, including some huge tour groups. By contrast, the neighborhoods south of the Parc Monceau are quiet. Coming home, we chose to come down the Avenue Georges V, because going up we had taken the Avenue de Montaigne. After we passed the swanky Four Seasons Georges V hotel, we started noticing cops stationed on corners. Then I realized that up ahead of us, the sidewalk was barricaded completely. We had to cross over to the other side. But that was difficult because there were police minivans parked everywhere. It looked like every cop in the city was there. The police had left one narrow lane available, and cars were zooming down it. We tried to get as close to the crosswalk as we could, but the police minivans were in the way. As I was trying to cross, I was standing very near a cop. You would think he would offer to help us cross. But no. Finally, a funny looking guy wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap backwards came driving a go-cart that was painted to look like a shark. He delighted in stopping the traffic on the Avenue and allowing us to cross. We smiled and waved and said “Merci!!” to him. I wish I had my camera turned on at the time. But if I had held up traffic to get this photo, the cops probably would have arrested me. They were not in a friendly mood. As we walked on down toward the Pont d’Alma, we passed a brasserie where the workers had attached “CGT” flags to everything. Aha! I realized now what was about to happen. The CGT is a union, I believe, and it is very much in the habit of staging demonstrations. Then I saw a homemade sign about regularizing the illegal immigrant workers. So, yes, indeed, the cops were expecting a massive demonstration on the ritzy Avenue Georges V. Tom says that’s the best kind of place to have such a demonstration. Later, I will have to try to figure out the significance of the building where the sidewalk was completely blocked off. The government did not want any demonstrators anywhere near that building. |
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Large old tree in the Parc Monceau.
Wedding party in the Parc Monceau.
Caretakers cottage in the Parc Monceau.
Entry gate for the Parc Monceau, at Avenue Ruysdael. |
