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

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The air literally sparkled with freshness yesterday.  I went out to buy newspapers at the Commerce park, and didn’t even mind much when I saw that the vendor had already run out of Le Parisien.  I guess the Friday edition is popular because it comes with the weekly TV magazine. 

This was a good excuse to keep going to the Place Etienne Pernet where the old village church of St. John the Baptist of Grenelle overlooks the neighborhood.  Across from one side of the church is a news shop run by a pleasant 50-something year old woman named Isabelle.  She reminds me of myself, but with more gray hair and with blue eyes instead of green.  Anyway, Isabelle was still on vacation.  The graffiti-riddled metal curtain of her shop was pulled down.

I reversed direction and walked the full length of the now-chic rue du Commerce to the newsstand under the elevated train tracks at the boulevard de Grenelle.  The woman who runs that newsstand looks like the quintessential librarian.  For some reason, she almost never has the English or Spanish newspapers displayed on the racks, but keeps them instead in a pile right under her nose on the counter. 

So I plucked Le Parisien from the rack and then politely asked her, please, did she have the International Herald Tribune?  She smiled sweetly and pulled the IHT out from under several copies of El Pais.

We don’t understand why she does not display these foreign papers.  Does she think they are more likely objects of shoplifting?  Is she saving them for favored regular customers?  We don’t know.  But she will sell the IHT to us if she has it.

Bob S. points out that we can get these newspapers online.  That is sort-of true.  Certainly we can find just about all of the content of the IHT online.  But Le Parisien limits the number of articles available for free online.  For example, in the edition for Friday, there were five articles on the green algae problem in Brittany.  But only one of them was entirely available online.

The other reason we want to buy real paper copies of the newspapers is that we sit in front of computers for so many hours, writing and editing, that at the end of the day, we really would like to stretch out and look at paper rather than an electronic screen.

That said, I realize that by now the green algae problem in Brittany is being covered somewhat by the English language newspapers, too.  But there are some interesting details that the English language papers don’t include in their coverage, so I’ll attempt to cover those things today.

First of all, with the plethora of types of algae, let’s be specific:  the Latin name of the type of macro-algae that is plaguing Brittany’s beaches is Ulva armoricana.   The part of Brittany most affected is the Côtes-Armor.  Ar mor means the sea in Breton.  So this algae seems to be named for the Côtes-Armor, and may be unique to this area.

Even the residents of the Côtes-Armor are called Costarmoricains. 

Ulva amoricana is not too dangerous when it is fresh and in the bay water.  But when it washes up on the beach and is in contact with the air, it forms an impenetrable white top layer, beneath which the rest of the algae rots and build up hydrogen sulfide gas that can be lethal.

It is this white impenetrable layer that makes the decaying Ulva amoricana a bit different from the heaps and masses of red drift algae that the Sanibel and Fort Myers beaches have experienced.  If there is anything good that can be said of red drift algae, it is that it doesn’t rot on the beach in the quite same manner that Ulva amoricana does.

The prime minister’s visit to the Côtes-Armor to make a show of concern about the rotting algae brought snide criticism from the political left, who immediately and correctly pointed out that this problem has been going on for the past 25 to 30 years, so where has the government been all that time? 

Brittany has been allowed to practice agriculture in a very intensive way.  While the region represents less than 5% of the agricultural land surface in France, it raises 60% of the pigs, 45% of the chickens, and 30% of the veal.

So, as Le Parisien explains, there is “not enough surface to permit the elimination of the animal excrement.”

Compounding the problem is Brittany’s surface hydrology.  Its surface water network is extremely dense and permits the rapid transport of pollutants.

Compounding that problem is the fact that many of the hedgerows and embankments that formerly slowed down the surface water flow have been eliminated.

When the polluted surface water reaches certain bays where the conditions are just right for this algae (lots of sun, the right kind of sand, the perfect tidal conditions), it grows monstrously. 

This year weather conditions have favored the algae growth.  Le Parisien cites, in particular, the mild winter.  That surprises me.  I thought that the winter had been harsh here.  It was bad enough that all the geraniums on the balcony had to be replaced in Spring.

The horse that died on the beach this summer was not the first animal victim of the poisonous gas emitted by rotting Ulva amoricana.  Evidently a couple dogs died earlier.  It took a horse dying to attract the attention of the nation, however.

And ten years ago, one of the employees of the company charged with cleaning up the algae lost consciousness while operating his “tractopelle,” which I guess is a small tractor.  This man, Maurice Brifault, fell 1.3 meters off his tractor onto the green slime.  Fortunately, two nurses who happened to be jogging nearby came to his aid, saving his life.

He was in a coma for four days.  Nobody alerted the public authorities or the media because, as the president of the Federation of the Cotes-d’Armor division of France Nature Environnement explains, in those days “one did not talk about it; it was well hidden.”

Maybe someone did die.  There is talk of a jogger who fell in the algae in 1988 and died, but no details are given.

Local people will no longer swim in the affected bays.  The clean-up of the algae is an economic catastrophe for local communities.  One local village spent 100,000 euros this year to remove 13,000 tons of algae.  The decline in tourism has caused one local campground to close, and a hotel to be placed on the real estate market.

The region’s farmers, in a very French way, have accepted that they are partly to blame.  But, they say, the government needs to give them money to “modernize” so they won’t pollute so much. 

One of the farmers’ associations spokespersons, a chicken farmer, says “It is not 80 percent of the nitrates in the rivers that come from agricultural activity; it is 95 percent!  Even if all the farmers stopped production, there would be green algae for 10 or 20 years.  That’s why, for several years, we have taken action.  The farmers have spent 650 million euros to ameliorate their methods without increasing the price of their products.”

Any solution, he says, must be economically sustainable (for the farmers, of course).  The farmers want not just government money for modernizing, they also support the idea of the government cleaning the algae out of the bay waters in the winter.  On Sanibel, we know that cleaning macro algae out of the water is not an easy or effective thing.

What do they do with all this collected algae?  I have no clue.

There also is no mention in any of the news coverage about fishing, or fishermen.  My guess is that the farming ruined the fishing long ago.  Nevermind that, though; whatever solution is found must be economically sustainable for the farmers!

But we had fish last night.  We wandered down the three-shaded avenue Emile Zola in the evening and peeked into one of our very favorite restaurants, Oh Duo!  Oh happy day!  The proprietors, the Valero’s, are back from vacation.  We reserved a table for 8:15.

Then we continued our walk along the peaceful Allée des Cygnes, an island with no cars in the middle of the Seine.

We arrived back at Oh Duo! at just the right time.  Both Valero’s greeted us warmly.  We were given a tasty amuse bouche consisting of a tiny bowl of wonderfully seasoned couscous.

Including ours, only four tables were occupied in the restaurant the entire time we were there.  That’s not good for a Friday night.

Tom ordered the best deal, a 21 euro three-course menu consisting of a goat cheese croustillant served with a nice green salad, then poached salmon and perfectly puréed potatoes, and finally a very fine apple tart.  Oh, he added ice cream for another 2 euros.

I ordered the starter of the day and the daily special.  This was a cold appetizer of thin slices of marinated pink trout topped by triangular, thin slices of melon with wonderful herbs.  It was just stunningly flavorful – delicious.  My main course was perfectly roasted rabbit leg and homemade pasta with herbs and mushrooms.

We had a pretty long chat with the Valero’s before we left.  Neither one of them speaks English, and I surprised myself by the way I just blabbered away in French.  The French food must have enabled my tongue.  They were curious about this idea of a three-month vacation, and so I explained what we really do – bringing the computers with us, writing, editing textbooks that are used by university students, then walking around Paris in the late afternoons and evenings, just like the Parisians do.

For many years, I also maintained a web site for a non-profit organization associated with Ohio State University, Campus Partners.  Finally this year, they switched to a more modern type of web site, which I encouraged them to do.  Now, I am completely retired from that business.

Congratulate me, I’m retired!  I hope my friends on Sanibel will drink a toast to my retirement at Happy Hour next Friday.

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Saturday, August 22, 2009

 

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The shop on the rue du Commerce where I experienced completely incompetent, non-existent service several days ago. 

 

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A monument to Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, known by his stage name of Molière, by the rue Molière on the right bank.

 

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Jean Racine in bas relief.  He was another of the great French dramatists, one who focused on tragedy, but who did write one comedy.

 

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On the rue Richilieu, we found a primitive notice that the great auction house Drouot will open one of its “expertise” offices here starting September 20.  This is the place to bring that painting that your grandmother gave you to find out if it is worth a fortune.

 

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Here’s that comical, cockney red t-shirt guide with his motley group of tourists outside the Louvre.  He is not allowed to enter the museum with them.

 

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