Putting the "Agog" in Synagogue

Places of worship in Paris include such architectural gems as Notre Dame de Paris; Sacré Coeur; La Madeleine; St. Chapelle; St. Eustache; St. Germain des Prés; St. Martin-des-Champs, St. Augustin, St. Alexandre-Nevsky, the American Church; get the idea? This is what happens when Catholic and Royal power is concentrated in a single city for 1,000+ years, and when ostentation is prized over efficiency. The synagogues of Paris show exactly the opposite, namely what happens when Jewish communities remain small, relatively poor, and intentionally discreet.

Case in point: the synagogue at 75 Rue Julien Lacroix in the 20th arrondissement, on the path from our apartment to Panda's nightly pee spot.

There are two ways you know this is a synagogue: first, the two tablets over the entrance (left); second, the presence of security guards during holiday services. Like other synagogues in Belleville (there are quite a few), this one serves the Orthodox Sephardic community, many of whose members immigrated to Paris from North Africa over the last half-century.

Another example of a nearly-invisible synagogue is one you can find in a well-traveled place, specifically the Place des Vosges.


It looks just like every other part of the Place des Vosges, which was built as a new royal residence by Henry IV in the late 16th century and which prompted the French aristocracy to move en masse to majestic hôtels particuliers in the Marais, many of which are now state-run museums. I went inside this "Temple des Vosges" when choosing a synagogue for the High Holidays and it's quite beautiful inside. Too bad they don't really encourage visitors.

Compare the Temple des Vosges with the following two synagogues, the first located on the Boulevard de Belleville in the 20th arrondissement just a few blocks from the Rue Julien Lacroix synagogue; the second located on the Rue Pavée, just a few blocks from Temple des Vosges in the 4th arrondissement.


Here are two synagogues that aren't afraid to advertise. Michkenot Yaacov, I know nothing about. The Synagogue de la Rue Pavée is famous-ish for having been designed by your favorite Art Nouveau architect and mine, Hector Guimard, who was also responsible for the Métro entrances we posted about recently. Unfortunately, this synagogue is not open for tours, but at least it's possible to get a good shot of its exterior.

I can't say as much for one of the next two synagogues we attempted to photograph.

On the left you see the Communauté Liberale Juive, located on Rue Moufle in the 11th arrondissement. (This is where Adam, Rachel, and I went for Simchat Torah services.) By now you've probably noticed the fences in front of most Parisian synagogues. This is the only evidence of anti-Semitism I've ever seen in France, and it's more evidence of the fear of anti-Semitism than the thing itself. Better safe than sorry, I guess.

To finish up, the synagogue on the right belongs to an affluent community in the 16th arrondissement (affluent and 16th are basically synonymous) and is mostly remarkable for its heavy, pseudo-Art Déco architecture that seems to cry out, "The power of the Star of David compels you! Enter!" Other Parisian synagogues could take a hint from this one - unless, that is, they prefer to remain the humble, self-effacing step-siblings of all those magnificent churches.

Last Fish Dish

It's a quandary we deal with every time we go out to eat: try something new, or go back to a restaurant we know and love? In our last few weeks in Paris, we favored the familiar, making a point to revisit three of our most beloved restaurants. We returned to Fish la Boissonnerie one last time with several initiates in tow: Dimi, Ilona, and Leslie.

Fish la Boissonnerie, a wine bar in the St.-Germain-des-Prés area of the 6th arrondissement, is a restaurant we've mentioned a few times before. The owners, an American and a Kiwi, also own a sandwich place across the street (Cosi) and a cave (wine store) around the corner. As you can see above and directly below, the distinctive Art Nouveau façade inspires a funky and comfortable interior décor. This isn't a restaurant for an intimate tête-à-tête; it's more of a warm, boisterous place to enjoy excellent food and wine at reasonable prices.


Our most recent Fish experience took place around lunch (three courses at 25 euros; dinner runs three courses for 35 euros, which is also mind-bogglingly reasonable, especially given how chic and touristy the surrounding neighborhood is). Unfortunately we didn't remember to take a picture of the menu, so we can't provide the names of any of our dishes, but we can at least point out some highlights. Know that everything you see below tasted just as good as it looks.


Left: spring onion over a ham-and-risotto salad. Middle: Prosciutto on toast. Right: Awesome purple grass-looking material over fish over risotto.


Left: That's a poached egg on a fish filet! Right: AWESOME duck breast with potato purée, and most impressive of all, the plate with that streak of jus acting as a landing strip for the duck. Brilliant.


Dessert: Chocolate tart with homemade ice cream and crème brûlée (Maggie's favorite).

We'd be remiss if we didn't bow down before the all-you-can-eat baskets of incredible, brick-oven flatbread, which comes from Cosi right across the street. Also, how clever is that little fish design on the wine glass? Pretty clever.

During future trips to Paris, when presented with that old restaurant quandary, Fish la Boissonnerie might be the one place we always choose over trying something new. It's that good.

Fish la Boissonnerie

69, rue de Seine

75006 Paris

01 43 54 34 69

A Night at the Museums Part II

Sorry to leave you hanging on that last post. I promise, it's worth the wait.

Our final stop of the evening was the nef (nave) of the Grand Palais. Like the Petit Palais, the Pont Alexandre III, and several other Parisian landmarks, the Grand Palais was constructed to host the 1900 World's Fair. It's an immense building, different parts of which host various temporary exhibitions. (The nef has also been known to host basketball matches, according to Damien.) Normally, tourists can only visit the nef under the auspices of an exhibition, but we got to see the vast empty space for the architectural pièce-de-résistance that it is.

With its fabulous Art Nouveau-influenced ironwork, its awe-inspiring proportions, and the fancy colored light projected everywhere, we would have been satisfied just seeing the place. But as befits an event as noble and epic as the Nuit des Musées, a surprise awaited us: the perfume maker Francis Kurkdjian had designed an art installation that floated thousands of light-refracting bubbles through the nef's voluminous interior.


We found ourselves in a surreal universe of sheer joy, where all was sparkling, luminescent, weightless. And yet again, this wasn't enough, for Kurkdjian's bubbles carried scents that contributed to a sense of euphoria in everyone present. From various corners of the hall, the magic bubble machines broadcast waves of pine, citrus, lily-of-the-valley (perhaps in honor of May 1st?), and other olfactory delights to the eager and receptive noses of anyone not suffering from allergies.

The installation inspired wonder in its audience, transforming jaded, tired adults into giggling, re-energized children. If that was one of the goals of "La Nuit des Musées" as a whole, then I say: Mission accomplished.

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.

Musée d'Orsay

As Maggie mentioned, I couldn't resist taking advantage of my last opportunity to visit the Louvre for free on a Friday night before turning 26 on Monday. In fact, I'm proud to say that I managed to go to the Louvre every Friday night in January. Now I know the museum better than I ever expected to, and probably won't go back for a really long time.


I have no regrets about the Louvre. I do, however, regret not realizing sooner that up until Monday, I could have gotten in free at the Musée d'Orsay any time of any day since late November. That's because the Musée d'Orsay is free to citizens and residents of the European Union under the age of 26. I'm no citizen, but I did get a titre de séjour to complete the visa process, and that's all the proof of residency they need.

At least I was able to take advantage of free entrance to the Musée d'Orsay once before it was too late. We went Saturday afternoon and caught two exhibitions (James Ensor and Art Nouveau Revival) just before they ended.

The Musée d'Orsay contains (mostly) French art from the 19th and early 20th centuries, including big collections of works by Manet, Monet, Renoir, Cezanne, Gauguin, and Van Gogh. Like the Louvre, the building itself  is as impressive and as interesting as the art on display. It comprises a former train station and hotel, both opened in time for the 1900 World's Fair.

It's worth comparing this picture with one of the original train station - they did a great job of retaining original features when they converted the station into a museum. And they kept several of the hotel's fancier rooms, which retain their luxury and grandeur.

Unfortunately the museum is being massively renovated and a lot of the art isn't out, but we still saw some pretty great stuff:

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Clockwise, from top left: Manet's Olympia, Gauguin's Et l'or de leurs corps, Maggie (a piece of work, if not art) in front of the painting that used to hang on her kitchen wall (the original, of course!), Monet's Le pont d'Argenteuil, and Cross's La fuite des nymphes.

As much as I love me some Impressionist art, I think my favorite thing about the museum is the rooms it devotes to Art Nouveau, which had greater influence on architecture, design, and decorative arts than on painting and sculpture. I've been to most of the cities in which Art Nouveau flourished - Barcelona, Nancy, Brussels, Vienna, and of course Paris - and I never get tired of it. The movement was most influential from 1895 to 1905, but continued to leave traces through the 1920s and 1930s. As we learned from the Art Nouveau Revival exhibition, the Surrealists reappropriated Art Nouveau in the 1930s, then pop/counter culture drew on it again in the 1960s, and finally the 1970s saw Art Nouveau placed in opposition to postwar functional design. Or so the exhibit said. Enough already with the words! Let there be pictures!


I know, I know. I'm way too excited about this stuff. I just don't want anyone to miss out during future visits to the Musée d'Orsay. Heck, I might even put aside my qualms about paying to go back to see it. Art Nouveau is that good. And so is the rest of the museum, too.