Paris Journal 2008

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Over dinner last night at L’Espadon Bleu, Carol and Wendy brought up our recent trip to Germany. I found myself describing how I reacted so positively to being there – as Tom said, it made my “genes tingle,” just as being in Scotland did years ago. I’m part Scottish and part German. I did love the cleanliness and order of Germany. We plan to go to Berlin, or to Berlin AND Munich, next year. I spoke with our German friend, Arnold, on the phone yesterday, and he made it clear that he and Mareen want us to come back to visit them again next year. I had called Arnold to let him know that if his son, who is a Buddhist holy man helping the poor in Haiti, needs a vacation after Hurricane Gustav leaves his area, he’s welcome to stay in our guest house in Sanibel. Arnold says that his son claims it really isn’t so bad where he is in Haiti, but Arnold readily admitted that his son does not take vacation as much as he should. Back to Germany – when we were there, I learned that I was mistaken in my understanding of the German word for “eagle.” It is “adler,” not “egel.” This is significant on Sanibel, because the name of the family who first spotted the bald eagle’s nest on property that the Community Church had planned on overdeveloping is “Adler.” That eagle’s nest slowed the idea of developing the property, and the church eventually abandoned its plans to do so. (It is, or at least it was, illegal to do any kind of construction work anywhere near a bald eagle’s nest anytime during nesting season, which is about half the year.) Okay. So yesterday, I set about learning the true meaning of “egel.” This is important to me because my grandmother’s maiden name was “Egelhof,” and that was, of course, the last name of my great-grandfather (on my father’s side). The results of my investigation amused me. “Egel” means “leech.” And “hof” means courtyard, or farm (as many quaint European farms are enclosed in walls and are like courtyards). It can also mean “house,” as in a farm house. But basically, it means “farm,” so an “egelhof” is a leech farm! Gee, I just can’t wait to learn more German. I mean it. I want to learn to read German. I don’t think I can easily learn to speak it this late in life, but I seem to be able to memorize huge volumes of vocabulary (even if I have trouble with recall sometimes), and the German grammar is not all that different from English grammar. So why not? My great-grandmother’s maiden name, before she married the leech farm guy, was Falk. As in Peter Falk. (See number 55 on this page on the Family Search web site, as well as this page.) A “falke” is a falcon in German. That’s a bit better than a leech, don’t you think? Last night, my starter course at L’Espadon Bleu reminded me so much of Germany. It was alternating slices of warm, soft sausage and steamed potatoes, with a nice hot-potato-salad-like brown sauce drizzled over it, and a fine little salad in the middle. That was followed by a delicious daurade fish served with a tapenade and something like a bit of polenta, but far better. As we were about to leave the restaurant, a fellow diner called to me from the middle of the room, “Go Obama!” Yes, I have been wearing my Obama button during this convention week. I went over to do a fist bump with him. In the split moment before our fists touched, I caught the startled look on the face of our server. He didn’t know what the man had said to me, and he saw that I was making a fist and aiming at him! I think he must have been hugely relieved to see that this turned out to be just a harmless and friendly greeting. He must have been thinking “foreigners are so weird.” After dinner, Tom and I took Wendy and Carol on a short walk to show them the rue de Furstenberg (romantic-looking at night), and the rue Jacob. We bade them farewell at the Mabillon metro, and we rode the train home to Emile Zola. Earlier, we’d walked all the way from one apartment over to the other, so we thought we deserved to ride home. It was already 11:30 when we got home, but that’s early for me this week, because I’ve been staying up as much as I can to watch the Democratic National Convention live on CNN Europe. This morning, at about 3:30 or 4AM, I saw a friend from Florida on CNN as I listened to Bill Clinton’s speech! My friend looked like he was hypnotized by the great rhetoric. The “peasants,” as Tom calls them, have suddenly become much quieter. I think that is because some of the regular residents of our building have finally returned from their month or two of vacation, and there is no way they are going to tolerate the kind of noise and commotion the “peasants” were causing. Something must have been said to them to get them to quiet down. Peace has returned, at least for now. ←Previous Next →

Thursday, August 28, 2008 Pretty mosaic over the entrance to a nursery school at rue Schutzenberger and rue Sextius-Michel in the 15^th arrondissement. Sextius Michel (1825-1906) was a poet and former mayor of the 15^th arrondissement. I love the shape of this Art Deco school building. A new mural on a building near Bir Hakiem. House boat at the Port de Grenelle. The Bir Hakiem bridge. Sign my guestbook. View my guestbook.