Paris Journal 2012 – Barbara Joy Cooley Home: barbarajoycooley.com
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The first time we dined at La Cuisine de Philippe, the server said he thought we were Norwegian. That was a new one for us. We’ve been mistaken for Germans a number of times, and of course, some have thought we were English. But Norwegian? The server said it was because we spoke French. He evidently believes that stereotype about Americans never speaking French. We think this happens because when Americans do speak French, the French think they must be Germans, or Brits, or Norwegians. One of Sanibel’s nice peculiarities is that a significant number of people there do speak some French. Some even speak it fluently. I love telling people here, when the topic comes up, that we are from Florida. Partly this is because of the “Ah, Floride!” reaction that we inevitably receive, and partly it is because we are then countering the FloriDUH reputation, as well as the false stereotype about Americans not speaking French. Truth is, our reading comprehension in French is quite good, but our listening comprehension needs improvement. The people whom we understand better tend to be better educated; they enunciate more. Our first guide, just inside the headquarters of Credit Lyonnais yesterday, was one of these better educated people. She was a woman of about my age, or slightly younger, and her voice was clear as a bell. She explained how Credit Lyonnais came to be located there on the boulevard des Italiens, in the 2nd arrondissement, bordering the 9th. After she spoke, we circled around the circular reception desk, upon which a series of historical photographs were on display, mainly featuring the building at various intervals in history. Then up the grand staircase we went. This glorious double-helix double staircase was designed after the one at the Chambord chateau in the Loire valley. I remember that chateau well. At the top of this beautiful staircase at Credit Lyonnais is a beautiful glass-and-metal dome. On the second level were the top managers’ offices and a couple special waiting rooms. In the grand corridor there, another guide spoke to us about the architecture and the architect’s intentions. She enunciated even more than the first guide did. Her face, and gestures, were downright theatrical. She was witty, stylish and entertaining. She explained that this building facing the boulevard Italiens was all about appearances. The main lobbies, the double-helix staircases, the corridors were all grand and elegant in a stately yet somewhat austere way. The purpose of this was to give the customers the feeling that their money was in a safe place, a proper place, a well-capitalized place where people knew how to handle money and how not to waste it. The rooms off of these grand corridors, however, were curiously modest, even small, in size. Behind this building, and yet attached to it as if it were once part of the same building, is a larger structure that extends all the way down to the rue du Quatre Septembre. This building resembles the great department stores of Paris, with the many large windows and imposing façades. This was done, in part, to be in the comfort zone of female customers, according to the tour. As Wikipedia.fr points out, however, it was done in part to be sure the building could be converted into a department store in the event that the bank failed. That part was not on the tour, however. The section that we visited, at the boulevard des Italiens, contains a room with safe deposit boxes in the subterranean level. A nice, wide, curving, red-carpeted staircase leads down to that room. Our theatrical, stylish guide on the second level explained that once upon a time, this building was kept open 24 hours a day, so that ladies who were going to the Opera could come in, go to the safety deposit boxes, get their jewels, put them on, go to the Opera, come back afterwards, put the jewels back in the safety deposit box, and go home relatively safely through the dark streets of Paris. Before the 20th century, Paris was quite dark at night, when it was thick with thieves. As this structure was being completed in 1882/83, Credit Lyonnais moved its headquarters from Lyon to the new grand edifice in Paris. When it opened, the building featured one of the first built-in electrical systems in Paris. The spirit of “open space” was not just in the great lobbies; the offices, too, were not walled in. Henri Germain, the chief banker and founder of Credit Lyonnais, fumed that “The closed offices just permit the employees to read their newspapers!” Henri Germain is known as the author of the “Germain doctrine,” which advocates the separation of activities for a “bank of deposits” from those of an investment bank. This principle of management was controversial at the time, as it still is today. In the double-helix double-staircase, one set of steps, with the fancier balustrade, was for the management. The other, with the simpler balustrade, was for the employees. So the two groups did not have to meet on the stairs! (Photos in the French Wikipedia page about the bank headquarters show this fairly well.) The large building suffered most from a damaging fire in 1996. Following that, the two buildings were truly separated, and no longer “communicated” or connected. Credit Lyonnais sold its big office building to AIG, but retained the historic boulevard des Italiens structure, referred to as the “Hôtel des Italiens,” although it was never truly a hôtel particulier (stately home). It was always a bank headquarters, and an impressive one. We enjoyed our visit to Credit Lyonnais on the occasion of Heritage Days, but mostly we enjoyed the long walk there and back. The destination got us over to the right bank, which has not happened often this summer. The weather was glorious for walking: sunny, and about 72 degrees F, with little or no wind. We arrived at the apartment around 5PM, in time for “tea” and a chance to rest our weary feet. I’d made a dinner reservation for 8PM at Aux 2 Oliviers via lafourchette.com. The restaurant was starting to be busy by the time we arrived. We began with a crème brûlée au foie gras and a small salad that was delicious. Then Tom ordered the wok-cooked dish of pork and vegetables again, because he likes its spicy flavoring so much. I ordered a calamari dish that came with tagliatelle pasta. It was very good, but I’m starting to yearn for more daring, less French, flavoring. The French generally favor subtle, not powerful, flavors. Tom ordered the fandarole, or assortment, of small desserts – all quite delicious. By the time we left the restaurant, only one small table for two was vacant. The place was quite busy. One reason might be the deals offered on lafourchette.com. But another reason is that this little restaurant is very good, and its location, right across from the Luxembourg Palace (the French Senate) is hard to beat. In the evening, we read. We have not turned on the television the entire time we’ve been in this apartment. I don’t even know if it works, but surely it does. I’m reading a silly book about a vacation that five American women take together in a farmhouse in Provence. It isn’t great literature, but it makes for good bedtime reading. I’ll let you know what I really think of it when I finish the book. |
Monday, September 17, 2012
The
dome of the Institut de France, as seen from the little
park called the Square Gabriel Pierné. Below, a bench in that same park.
The
staircase at the Credit Lyonnais headquarters on boulevard des Italiens was made to resemble the one in the chateau of
Chambord.
Cute
converted Citroën that we saw on our way to dinner.
The
fandarole
of desserts at Aux 2 Oliviers. |
