Paris Journal 2009 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com

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Whenever we come and go from the apartment, I always try to make myself see the scene as if I am seeing it for the first time. This way, I can be charmed multiple times a day. If we decide to go in the direction of the boulevard St. Germain, we exit our ancient courtyard doors and go to the left, down one of the shortest streets in Paris. Then we turn on rue Servandoni, named for the architect responsible for the façade of the St. Sulpice church. We see the side of the severe, imposing church, at the end of the block. Everything is stone. The buildings on either side. The church at the end. The street beneath our feet. A canyon of stone. The only relief from stone is the sky above. The stone has a warm hue. The stone is old, and we know the street is old. This street has an older name, rue des Fossoyeurs, or Gravediggers’ Street, for there was once upon a time a graveyard a bit to the south, in the direction of the Luxembourg Gardens. Looking up to the left as we turn on the rue Servandoni, we can see an old stone on the corner building that has the older street name chiseled into it. We can be confident that this stone will be preserved with all the might of the French government’s rules and regulations. Once upon a time there were monks and other people who made a living doing one thing or another related to the church. There were little shops selling decorative religious items. One theory about the mysterious name for our street, rue du Canivet, is that a canivet was a knife used for lacemaking. Nobody knows for sure. We walk the very short half-block up to the rue Palatine that borders the southern side of the church. Here we’re faced with the massive old door at the side entrance, to the transept of the church. Standing in slightly elevated, arched nooks on either side of this entrance are statues of powerful-looking men in robes. One of them has had two fingers chopped off of his outstretched hand, leaving one upraised finger, which looks vaguely obscene until you decipher that it isn’t that finger. At this point, we often hear organ music or voices singing inside the church. There is usually a funny little half crazy man standing near the side door of the church. The little man thinks it is his job to look after this entrance. If he decides it is not appropriate for people to enter here, he sends them around to the front entrance, on the Place Saint Sulpice. He wears heavy work gloves. Some of his clothing resembles that worn by the “little green men,” the workers who wear green and who pick up the trash and clean the streets of Paris. The little green men have a work outpost beneath part of the church. The entrance is a trap door in the sidewalk. This isn’t as unusual as you might think, because all Paris churches built before 1920-something are owned by the government. The churches are simply allowed to use the real estate and must pay for the routine upkeep and maintenance. So the huge renovation of the St. Sulpice structure is being paid for by the taxpayers. It has been underway for years, and there appears to be years’ worth of work yet to be done. But there’s hope. The scaffolding is slowly being removed from the top of the north tower, which is the more beautiful one, and the one that was more difficult to restore. The very top is looking elegant. We await the unveiling of the rest with great anticipation. The funny little man who “guards” the entrance at the south transept is, I suspect, someone who would otherwise be homeless. And, I suspect, the church is providing him with a place to sleep. Because of his unpleasant tendency to lecture people who approach his doorway, we generally avoid him. At the same time, we are always amused to see him at a little distance, and to see what he might do next. If we decide to go in the other direction, toward the Luxembourg Gardens, we exit the big courtyard door and turn to the right. Very soon, we are turning left onto the rue de Férou. It is a narrow street, and it ascends slightly as it curves ever so slightly in the block-and-a-half of its full length. It, too, is made of stone buildings on each side, and a stone surface beneath our feet. But at the end of it, we see some leafy trees and the entrance to the brick-and-stone Luxembourg Museum, instead of more solid stone. On the right, we pass a lean-to structure with some translucent glass. This was once Man Ray’s studio. There is no plaque marking its location. A little farther down, there is an impressive old apartment building with a courtyard gate guarded by two sphinxes. In this building, on the first floor (which is the best, one level above street level), was the best place Hemingway ever lived in Paris. This was when he was married to a woman named Pauline – a woman who had money. There is no plaque marking this location, either. The end of the rue de Férou is the busy rue Vaugirard, forming the northern edge of the Luxembourg Gardens. The museum by the entrance to the park faces down the rue de Férou. Sidled up to the side and the front corner of the museum is a charming outdoor café. We’ll have to try it sometime. It seems to be mostly just for drinks. A handsome, tall, decorative cast iron fence encloses the park, which is owned by the Senate. The Senate generously allows the public to use the park, and the Senate makes the rules for the use of the park and determines opening and closing hours. The Senate also pays for the upkeep of the park. That is to say, the French taxpayers pay for it (but not just Parisians). With a slight jog to the right after leaving the end of the rue de Férou, we see a crosswalk. There is no traffic light. The cars zipping up and down the street are supposed to yield to pedestrians. I’m sure there are many close calls here. After braving the crosswalk, we are at one of the main entrances to the park. The cast iron gates are tall, and they welcome us to a world of mature trees and meticulous gardens. People use the park heavily. All kinds of people. There are plenty of places for children to play, and there is a world-famous marionette theatre in the park. An old woman staffs a kiosque where children’s toys can be purchased. A young woman gives children rides on ponies. There is an area where people play chess players. Sometimes, when a particularly interesting chess game is being played, a small crowd gathers around to watch. There are tennis courts. A basketball court. Men (mostly) playing boules. Two charming indoor and outdoor cafés serve the park, one on each side. The Orangerie for the Luxembourg usually hosts temporary art exhibitions. A photography show will start today. It is called “Le Pont Brid6e, the photos of Galata.” The middle of the park is a long, formal garden with improbably perfect flowers and a formal round pool with a fountain at the northern end of it. The ducks who live in the pool have a little shelter house. A nearby vendor rents toy sailboats for children to put into the pool. The sides of the park are wooded with old trees. They are also graced by statues of all the old queens of France. No, I’m not talking about transvestites. Real queens, from the past. The wooded areas open up, here and there, into sunny grassy spots where lovely old stone and bronze sculptures are on display in the midst of well-kept flowerbeds. At the southwestern end of the park is a little brick building and fenced-in area where beehives are kept. The bees service an orchard, just to the south, in the end of the park. The public is not allowed to go into the fenced area where the fruit trees are; the individual fruits on the trees are protected by little bags, so bugs and birds cannot eat them. These fruits are to be eaten instead by the Senators, in their dining rooms in the Luxembourg Palace, which looks over all of this. South of the park is a massive high school, called the Lycée Montaigne. When school is in session, the kids pour into the southeastern entrance to the park at every opportunity – lunchtime, after school, while skipping school, you name it. There is usually one section of grassy lawn marked with signs saying it is okay to be on the grass. Otherwise, the lawns are forbidden in this park. The high school kids love to lounge on the permitted grass. Off the southeast corner of the park is an area with greenhouses. These are not open to the public, except for special times, like Patrimony Days in September. The exit from the east side of the park leads directly to the Panthéon, a few blocks uphill, where great people have been interred. The northeast corner of the park holds the Medici fountain, a peaceful place to sit and watch ducks being fed or to watch water fall into the pool. Leaving the park at the big gates in the northeast corner puts you right in front of the Théâtre National de l’Odéon (1787), the oldest Paris theatre auditorium still standing. It has been beautifully restored. On its other end, the Odéon faces a handsome square, which is really round, called the Place Odéon. Some nights, a caterer transforms the part of the Place directly in front of the theatre, and the portico down the side of the theatre, into a pleasant café. Just a little to the west, on rue Vaugirard (the longest street in Paris) is the entrance to the magnificent Luxembourg Palace, home of the Senate. Across the street from it is La Poste, the post office, which is also a bank. It has probably the safest ATM in the city, because the entrance to the Senate is always guarded. At the Square Poulenc, across from the Senate, too, is a pleasant, friendly place to buy newspapers. Farther on, across from the older, Petit Luxembourg, is a marble arcade with entrances to offices that serve the Senate. The arcade has interesting window displays about the Senate, or about things the Senate wants you to know about. At one end of the arcade, embedded in the marble wall, is a bronze strip representing the precise length of a meter. When the meter was introduced, several of these were placed around the city so that merchants could be sure their meter sticks were accurate. At the end of the rue Servandoni, across from the Petit Luxembourg where the president of the French Senate lives, is the small,luxurious, four-star Hotel Luxembourg Parc. This is where Faulkner once stayed when it was called the Grand Hotel des Principautés-Unis and had its main entrance on the rue Servandoni instead of the rue de Vaugirard as it is now. It was a short but influential stay for Faulkner. And so ends our short but influential tour. Last night, our landlords and friends, Elisabeth and Ron, took us out to eat at L’Epi Dupin. This is one of those places where you must order a three-course, fixed price dinner, but don’t worry. The portions are small, and you won’t be overwhelmed. Our food was modern, inventive, delicious, and expertly presented. We also consumed a beautiful white wine, a Touraine Sauvignon, which was a little costly. Our server was a handsome young man, who, upon learning that Ron could not speak French at all, insisted on going over the entire menu (presented on a blackboard) in English. He did better than I could have because he was very familiar with the preparation of these particular dishes. I admired his skill both at English and at describing food, and also thought he looked very stylish in a pink shirt with thin blue stripes and pink tie with tiny blue dots. In France, real men can wear pink. He was just as nice as can be. In the past couple years, you’d have to make a reservation day or two ahead if you wanted to dine at L’Epi Dupin. But even here, where everything is just about perfect, now there are empty tables. I still advise making a reservation anyway, just in case the economy suddenly picks up. On the way home, Ron and Tom somehow got separated from Elisabeth and me. They found their way, somehow, without us. When we were almost home, Elisabeth noticed two Smart cars parked so that it seemed they were kissing. I got my camera, and voila!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009 The rue Servandoni with the St. Sulpice church at the end. Statue in a nook by the south transcept entrance to St. Sulpice. The rue de Férou, looking toward the Luxembourg Gardens (above and below). People watching a chess game in the Luxembourg Gardens. Toys are sold at a kiosque in the park. It was about to rain when I entered the park. I was immediately greeted by this sign of warning about violent winds and falling branches. I came to Paris to escape hurricane season! Anyway, nothing much happened -- just a few drops. Sign my guestbook. View my guestbook. ← Previous Next →