Striped shirts

When I studied/lived in Paris in 2003, I noticed a trend among Parisians: striped shirts and vacations go hand in hand. But now striped shirts are everywhere, all the time. We took the following pictures during a 5 minute stretch on a weekday, just across the street from Galeries Lafayette.

(And just so you know, women aren't the only ones hip to the trend.)

There's only one possible explanation: Coco Chanel. We recently saw Audrey Tautou play the famous couturière in Coco Before Chanel, and suddenly we understood the recent craze for striped clothing.

Just as Coco took a design initially worn by sailors and popularized it among high society, Tautou-as-Coco 

has reminded Parisians (and visitors to Paris) of the simplicity, timelessness, and cozy-chic of striped clothing. Will we return to the States with our own striped shirts? You'll find out soon enough!

Reward

At the end of a long afternoon spent exploring large swaths of the 16th arrondissement, this was the icing on the cake:

It's the only remaining original "bouche de métro" (metro entrance) designed by Hector Guimard, the famed Art Nouveau architect!


There's so much detail to take in, I just had to approach slowly and take a picture every few feet. Finally, when I got up close to those brown-and-green interior panels, I weirded out all the people coming out of the métro while I waited, camera to the ready, for the perfect shot.

Well, maybe not perfect. But how ridiculous is this? We heart Art Nouveau. And strongly believe that whoever tore down or partially dismantled the other Guimard stations should be prosecuted, even posthumously.

You'll find this turn-of-the-century gem at Porte Dauphine, terminus of Ligne 2, 16th arrondissement. Recommended approach: start at the Arc de Triomphe and walk all the way down Avenue Foch. Just don't do it at night.

No Vacancies at Hotel Kaiserstein

Someone asked us yesterday if we're going to have any more visitors before we leave. Sadly, the answer was no - Hotel Kaiserstein (Paris) is closed until further notice. On the bright side, we have gads of lovely memories of all the guests we hosted this year, and right now we'd like to revisit some of our favorites from each visit, if only briefly. (Click on each visitor's name for all the posts associated with their time here.)

Robert - making Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur dinners from scratch, and our visit to the Société Générale headquarters
Jacob - Nuit Blanche and funtimes at the Eiffel Tower with Sandi and Ethan

Phil and Josh - proof that couchsurfers are always friends of friends of friends
Sarah Fischer - long walks and the Centre Pompidou

(Picture taken with Sarah's camera)

Joy and Jake - they may have saved my life, and Christmas Eve at the Menilmontant church
Alyssa and Michelle - all-too-short sight-seeing extravaganza, including a romp through two department stores

Eden and JP - they brought the bitter cold with them from Minneapolis but together we found warmth in excellent cheese and excellent tea
Matt - proof that research and fun should be mutually inclusive; his Eiffel Tower Tips post is a must-read
Katie and Darryl - two Chinese New Year parades, and a great dinner at La Bouche
Talya and Ari - making hamantashen and hitting up Purim services

PS - Congrats to Talya and Ari on their recent engagement!!!

Rebecca and Moritz - playing a part in Moritz's proposal!!!
Becky and Gladis - picnic, museums, May Day, and SO MUCH DELICIOUS FOOD
Dimi - our last burst of speed sightseeing, including a bateau mouche ride, three former palaces/mansions become museums, our second best meal of the year, and much, much more . . . coming soon to a panda-à-paris blog near you!

Special mention: Joy and Cathy - Technically they didn't stay with us, but given that we spent anywhere from 8 to 12 hours a day with them throughout their visit, they qualify for "Hotel Kaiserstein Preferred Guest" status. Like Dimi, they ran us ragged with sightseeing and quality dining experiences - or was it the other way around?

21 guests in 8 months - not too shabby. Will Hotel Kaiserstein remain popular after moving back to its Somerville location? We doubt it, but we hope we're wrong!

Next Time Around

With our departure only four days away, it's high time we embarked on some retrospection. There's no disputing that we had an amazing year, that we learned a lot, and that we're satisfied with our experience. Still, if we ever have the opportunity to do it all over again, there are a few things we'd do differently.

1. Subscribe to a French newspaper or news journal.
2. Watch more French TV.
3. Go to the movies more often.
4. Plan more trips during the winter, fewer during the spring.
5. Take more day trips around France.
6. Write down the schedules of local food boutiques (for a long time we always thought to go to the fromagerie on days when it was closed), try to buy food from them whenever possible, and budget the added cost (because it can get quite expensive if you shop there regularly).
7. Get year-long passes to the Louvre (which cost only 30 euros if you're under 30 and which let you bring one guest for free per pass) and the Centre Pompidou (only 27 euros, which is more than paid for by three visits - and exhibitions change every few months).
8. See what it's like to live outside of Paris, maybe even outside the metropolitan area. 
9. Dedicate time to creating a children's book called "Panda à Paris" in which Panda has a series of adventures around the city. The plot line is still in the development stage, but we have a lot of faith in the premise.

The Shield

If you ever find yourself at the Hôtel de Ville métro station, waiting for the Ligne 1 to take you in the direction of La Défense, you might notice this mosaic on the wall.

Ok, it's a coat of arms thingy, the medieval shield of some noble family. You take a picture of it, thinking it's kind of cool, and you move on. End of story.

Except then you start seeing the shield everywhere, in different materials, colors, historical styles, and designs.

You see it on the Vélib' stations, on the Mairie of the 2e arrondissement, and on an awesome Art Deco school in the 11th.


You see one-sail, two-sail, red-sail, blue-sail versions - used as a distinctive logo for elementary schools, and on the guardian's building at the entrance to the Parc des Buttes Chaumont that you took a dozen pictures of over the course of the year. (How did you not notice this before??)


This thing is literally everywhere, especially in its present-day iteration, a simple, curved, diamond-shaped sail on a crescent-shaped boat. You see this boat on all park signs, on the backs of public toilets, and on trash and recycling bins.


When you look it up on Wikipedia, you learn lots of interesting things. The boat symbol on the city's coat of arms dates from around 1190 but was made official in 1358 by King Charles V (who also completed and lived in the donjon at the Château de Vincennes). The boat looks good on the entrance gate to the Parc Monceau, and on the centerpiece of the Pont Alexandre III (an epic bridge).


In its pure form (best represented by the mosaic at the Hôtel de Ville métro station), a single-sail, white boat floats on water within a field of red. Above, yellow fleurs-de-lys suspended in a blue field represent French royal power, and specifically that of the Bourbon royal line. The blue and red in the coat-of-arms represent the Paris Commune, a revolutionary body that provided the same colors to the tricolor French flag we know today. But even uncolored it gets its point across, like when it's tacked onto an electricity meter, or yet another school in the 20th, or a "Theatres of Paris" cylindrical billboard.


The ship and the motto, "Fluctuat nec mergitur," or "It is beaten by the waves without being submerged," pay hommage both to the city's resilience in the face of millenia of attacks and to the power of the medieval shipping guilds. I wonder how those medieval dudes would have felt about having a symbol of their power sculpted in iron on a fence outside a park, or on yet another school.


Clearly, this city has some kind of complex. Or a very, very savvy and consistent marketing campaign aimed at subtly marking the city's influence on everyday life. Whatever they're doing, I'm hooked on finding more of these. At least until another of Paris's many open but overlooked secrets catches my eye . . .

Wagner Lived Here

This post is dedicated to Frank, who believes strongly enough in Wagner's importance (in music history, in life) that he's got me thinking about it too.

Richard Wagner's operas have been argued over, adored, boycotted, banned, and embraced by Parisians ever since the Jockey Club first torpedoed an 1861 performance of Tannhäuser, Wagner's first in the city. But all's well that ends well, and today, for proof that Wagner is firmly entrenched in Parisian musical culture, we can look beyond programs for concert series and the Opéra, which are both obvious and superficial. More permanent evidence can be found in the "Wagner Lived Here" plaques that have sprung up around the city.

The plaque on the left tells us that Wagner lived in this building on Rue Jacob in the St.-Germain-des-Prés area of the 6th arrondissement from October 30, 1841, to April 7, 1842. He moved to Paris in 1839 - still waiting to come across the other plaque(s) to learn about where he lived. Another period missing is his 1849 visit, which occurred when he fled Dresden after participating in the revolutionary fervor that swept Europe around that time. The plaque on the right commemorates Wagner's residence between October, 1860 and July, 1861 in this building on the Rue d'Aumale (just around the corner from the salon that hosted my concert two weeks ago). During this stint, he oversaw preparations for the Parisian premiere of Tannhäuser - organized by the Princesse de Metternich and offered as a "command" performance of Emperor Napoleon III - which ultimately ended in scandal, failure, and Wagner's hasty departure from the city. The third time was the charm, apparently, as he never returned.

If you look closely enough at the plaques, you'll see that the first one was put up by "Les Amis de Richard Wagner," and the second by "Les Cercles Wagner de France." Talk about a rock star - Wagner has had multiple fan clubs in Paris. Do you think my various fan clubs will put plaques up at all of my Paris/Vincennes residences in 150 years?

Affaires Étrangères

Metonymy is everywhere. When American news outlets report that the "White House" issued a press statement, you know what they mean - obviously the White House itself doesn't do stuff, the press means the people inside. In France, news organizations report on measures announced by "L'Elysée," the President's palace; by the "Hôtel Matignon," or Prime Minister's palace (everybody gets a palace!); and by the "Quai d'Orsay," which stands in for the Ministère des Affaires Étrangères (Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the equivalent of our State Department).

To commemorate the 60th anniversary of the speech that launched the European Union, the building that houses the Ministère des Affaires Étrangères was opened to the public during the weekend of May 8-9, and we went to see what all this "Quai d'Orsay" business was really about. Talk about a sumptuous setting for government work

Only the first floor state rooms were open to visitors, but that was enough. So much gold! So many chandeliers! Unfortunately there wasn't a whole lot on the history of the EU outside of Robert Schumann's 1960 speech. Rather, the exhibition chose specific accomplishments of EU funding and support to explain its purpose.  There was something deliciously ironic in learning about the history of the euro during a major slide in its value ($1.23 as of today). Did this celebration of the foundation of the EU come at the very moment that will prove to be the beginning of the end for European monetary union, if not political union?

Overall, our impressions can be summarized by the following three, seemingly unrelated photos:

From left to right: 1) Sure, there's something a little bit ridiculous about this exposition - much like there's something ridiculous about this tricolor-ad-nauseum guard hut. It all smacked of patting yourself on the back for something that you maybe weren't entirely responsible for.

2) Then again, there's something beautiful about the sentiment - celebrating Europe, even if it's through a French historical lens. And you can't complain about the gorgeous setting, including little tiny details like chairs (you wonder whether the Foreign Affairs Minister sits in a chair like this one, or whether they have even better ones hidden away somewhere).

3) Finally, on your way out, you move past all the ridiculous pomp, the superficial beauty, and realize that ultimately, stuff is getting done. You notice that there's a contraption at the door for scraping your boots - and that someone installed a handle just above so you can balance while you're doing it. It may be old school - the streets don't turn to mud in the spring anymore - but it demonstrates a long history of pragmatism, as well as idealism. If something's dirty (whether it's your shoes or Europe's financial situation), you clean it up. Maybe Europe will be alright after all.

Putting Local Boulangeries to the Test

We've been debating for months. Can we actually taste the differences in the bread that comes from the four boulangeries we regularly patronize? Or are we just biased in favor of some based on appearance, location, or service? Finally, we decided to put our opinions to a test. A blind taste test.

First, we need to introduce the contenders. There's the "yellow boulangerie," aka "Le Moulin de Pierre," which is the boulangerie closest to Métro Belleville on the rue de Belleville.

A clear frontrunner, this boulangerie always has a huge line snaking out the door, and looking at the splendid breads, pastries, and tarts they make, it's no wonder.


Up a block and just across the street, you'll find the "orange boulangerie" (maybe next we'll test for color-blindness, because in this picture it looks pink), aka "Au Moulin de Belleville." (In case you're wondering, moulin means mill. Like in Moulin Rouge.) This one ranked towards the bottom going into the test.

Staying on the rue de Belleville, you'll find the "green boulangerie" (it has no alias as far as we can tell), whose owner we profiled for our "Portraits of Belleville" series. Between the storefront and the unmatched service, we assumed this one would rank higher than the orange boulangerie.

Finally, on our way to and from the park every day, we pass the Banette-affiliated "red boulangerie" which also doesn't appear to have an official name. (Banette is a consortium of boulangeries, wheat producers and other parties interested in producing and selling bread. Banette-affiliated boulangeries seem to tread a line between a franchise and a baker's union.) Given its location in a swankier neighborhood than our own, the lines of waiting customers we almost always see, and our own experiences there, we anticipated a close competition between red and yellow boulangeries for the crown.

Maggie did the buying, while Dimi and I did the tasting. We were very scientific about it, as you can see.

In addition to taste, we judged a croissant and a baguette from each boulangerie on the basis of overall appearance and texture. You can see real differences in the exteriors and cross-sections of each item, and we took careful notes on every relevant aspect of our tasting experience.

In the end, the results were roughly what we expected: the yellow boulangerie (#3 above) took the prize for best croissant, while the red boulangerie (#1 above) won best baguette. The green and orange boulangeries just didn't compare.

Still, we'll continue to buy from all of our contestants, in part because the two winners are both closed on Wednesday, in part because sometimes we don't feel like standing in line, but mostly because all of these boulangeries are great by American standards. We will sorely miss them when we return.