Paris Journal 2008
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Back to the subject of parachutes . . . . We found this sign (at right) in the Parc Monceau that tells us that there, on October 22, 1797, the Frenchman Andre-Jacques Garnerin made a free jump from a hot air balloon, the first descent by parachute in history. This isn’t exactly true. It was the first jump using a modern-style SILK parachute. But a number of people had jumped using parachutes to slow their falls well before this. These include: · Stefan Banic in Slovakia in 1603 · The Croatian inventor Faust Vrančić in 1617 in Venice · Louis-Sébastien Lenormand in France in 1783 · The Frenchman Jean-Pierre Blanchard demonstrated the parachute as a means of safely jumping from a hot air balloon in 1793; then in the late 1790s, Blanchard began using silk instead of linen for parachutes. To Garnerin’s credit, he did subsequently invent the vented parachute, which improved stability. The false claim of “first” in this sign reminds me of North Carolina’s license plate that claims that state was “first in flight.” How absurd. We all know the Wright brothers were from Ohio, and Ohio is where they did their work. North Carolina’s only claim in this part of history is that the state happens to have sand dunes that were a good place to test the first Wright airplanes. Yesterday, we had a long, lovely walk down the banks of the Seine, stopping for a light lunch in the café that is in the middle of the Petit Palais. This is a good mid-way stop for us when we take this typical Sunday stroll. The food is good, not terribly expensive, and it is all ready to go – cafeteria-style. And you just cannot beat the ambiance. The museum and its little garden in the middle are gems. Entrance to the museum’s permanent collection (which is how you get to the café) is free, but you do have to stop at the ticket desk and pick up a free ticket first. So, after passing through security, which is stricter every year, we got our tickets and headed straight for the café. I had a small piece of spinach- and salmon-laden quiche, with a little green salad, and Tom had a pleasant little apricot tart with pine nuts. After he consumed a second coffee and I polished off a bottle of Evian, we went on our way, pausing to look at a couple paintings that have been added in the main gallery since our last visit. We paused again to listen to Bernard Constant, the one man band under the Passarelle Solferino, and went on to the Passarelle des Arts. There we decided to start for home so we could see the last of the day’s Tour de France stage. This is one of my favorite walks in the 6th. We crossed over the Seine on the Passarelle and walked through the small archway in the Institut de France. Then we made our way down through the charming Buci neighborhood to the Boulevard Saint Germain, where we caught the metro at Mabillon. Arriving home right at about 4:30, we were able to see the last hour or so of this harrowing stage of the Tour de France. It was a very tough day. Cavendish had to drop out of the race because he was doing so poorly, and earlier in the day, Pereiro went over a guardrail on one of those steep hairpin turns. He tumbled down the slope and landed on the road below. He’s pretty banged up, and he has a broken shoulder. Unfortunately our American rider, Christian Vandevelde, dropped back to fifth place, although he improved his time a bit, I think. A very typical French family Sunday dinner is roasted chicken. So I roasted a chicken and we had a quiet dinner at home. Early in the day, I had walked down the rue du Commerce and noticed a line of people going out the door and down the sidewalk for a little ways at the butcher shop that is nearest to us. I haven’t seen this phenomenon here before. This butcher seems to have a good deal on already roasted chickens. I’ll have to check this out. It may not be worth the mess and trouble of roasting my own. |
Monday, July 21, 2008
The dome of the Petit Palais, as seen from the café
that occupies the garden in the middle of this fine little museum.
A couple enjoying a break in the garden café of the
Petit Palais.
Griffins above a doorway near the entrance to the Parc
Monceau. |
