Vélib' is Everywhere

Just when you thought you'd seen everything, Vélib' now has bikes in the Seine. Kind of.

On our bateau mouche, no one else seemed particularly taken aback by Vélib's presence, so I looked like a total weirdo jumping up to snap a few pictures as the boat sped by.

Maybe JCDecaux's next troubled business venture can be a boat-sharing program on the Seine. I'd sign up.

Bateau Mouche

It's one of the classic tourist experiences in Paris:

You climb onto a long, flat boat that cruises up and down the Seine. During the cruise, a guide - and sometimes a recording - points out the incredible concentration of sights along the banks, translating each sentence into at least four langauges. During the hour-long cruise, you "see" most of what lures people to Paris: the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, Place de la Concorde, the Palais de Justice, the Île-St.-Louis, the Hôtel de Ville, the Palais Chaillot at the Trocadero, the Grand Palais - just about the only thing you don't see is Montmartre.

On her jet-lagged and slightly disorienting first day in Paris, Dimi bravely stayed awake during a bateau mouche ride that we'd been saving just for her. Having already seen all the above sights from multiple angles on multiple occasions, Maggie and I weren't too impressed by the water-level views, but it was a good introduction to the city for Dimi. And there was one more redeeming factor: the bridges.


Yeah, it's bridge trivia time: the Pont des Arts (left) links the Institut de France (home of the Académie Française) with the central courtyard of the Louvre, which was called the "Palais des Arts" under Napoleon. The original bridge, constructed between 1802 and 1804, was the first metal bridge in Paris. Luckily an inspection revealed structural deficiencies in 1977, resulting in the bridge's "temporary" closing and preventing disaster when, two years later, a barge rammed it and 60 meters of the bridge collapsed into the river. An exact replica of the original bridge reopened in 1984, and is now covered in tiny locks that symbolize love or some such nonsense.

The Pont Neuf (center), literally "New Bridge," is the oldest bridge in Paris (figures, right?). Joining the left and right banks via the tip of the Île-de-la-Cité, the Pont Neuf was constructed by Henry IV between 1578-99 and had the distinction of being the first Parisian bridge not covered by houses. Rumor has it that the hundreds of sculpted faces lining the bridge (click on the picture for a close-up) were meant to mock Henry IV's enemies at the court; some common criminals were thrown in just to confuse things properly.

Finally, the Pont d'Alma (right) is best known today as the bridge right next to the eponymous tunnel where Princess Diana died in 1997. Before that, its landmark was the Zouave, the only remaining statue of four originals meant to commemorate France's victory in the Crimean war, which ended around the beginning of the bridge's initial construction in 1854-6. The Zouave has traditionally been used to measure the Seine's water levels, and in 1910 the water came up to his neck. Crazy! Oh, bridges, you fascinate me.

Of the 32 bridges crossing the Seine within the city of Paris, we floated under 22 during our cruise with Vedettes du Pont Neuf. And as much as I love some good bridge trivia, the real highlights of the tour were the parts of the bridges we never get to see - the undersides. Every bridge regaled us with different structural supports, construction materials, and patterns.


Based on our bateau mouche experience, Maggie and I agreed that the next time we come to Paris, we're living on a houseboat moored to the banks of the Seine. We'll support ourselves by selling a coffee table book called "Under the Bridge." Place your order now, supplies will be limited!

Last Research Adventure

With two weeks to go before our departure, I had pretty much written off any more research. I felt like I had a solid amount of material and thought that I had exhausted most of the relevant leads that had come up during the year. I thought wrong. When I was least expecting it, a research opportunity came up that I couldn't ignore, and so it was back to the archives for Louis.

Behold the headquarters of the Société d'Auteurs, Compositeurs, et Editeurs de Musique (SACEM) - basically the organization responsible for collecting royalties from the performances of works by its members. The group is over a century old, and played a role in the finances of the composers I'm studying. (Today, they still hand out royalties, but less to art music composers and more to pop stars like Carla Bruni, Charlotte Gainsbourg, and Camille.) After meeting with the head of SACEM's archives and learning that most archival materials weren't on site, I didn't have much hope for gaining access to them. But lo and behold, the guy I met arranged for stuff to be sent to SACEM headquarters, and when I got the call, I briefly forgot about my last two weeks of relaxation, put down my wine glass, and went back to research.

I hoped to find some useful info on composers' income from royalties, but the documents to which I was given access had more to do with the lines of succession for each composer. Ravel's proved to be a particularly interesting case. When he died in 1937, he was fairly wealthy, thanks to the runaway success of Boléro (1928). As he had no children, his brother Edouard inherited the rights to his royalties. When Edouard passed away in 1960, he left the rights to the nurse who had cared for him during his last years. She got sued by Edouard's nephew and niece, died, and won the lawsuit (in that order). Her widow - a hairdresser from (oddly enough) the same town Ravel was born in - inherited her rights, and passed it on to his second wife, who's still living, and who shares the rights with her daughter and with a Dutch bank. Got it? Me neither.

Visiting SACEM wasn't as productive as I had hoped, but I established a good contact who may ultimately give me greater access to the financial records that could make my dissertation way more interesting. And I got to enjoy a nifty, post-war building whose location (in Neuilly, on the Seine) and design (see below) reflect the affluence of an institution that's raking in the dough - in part thanks to Ravel's Boléro.

Paris, Paris, Paris, Que Je Te Quitte

If there were a soundtrack to our nine months in Paris, the title track would have to be Camille's "Paris" off her début album, Le Sac des Filles (2002). (If you feel that the video's a disappointment, just scroll down and follow along with the lyrics while enjoying the irrepressible catchiness.)

In her sprightly, street music-inspired tune, we find lyrics that reflect all of our frustrations with daily life in the city - the endless months of winter and grisaille; the dirty sidewalks; the way even famous landmarks eventually seem normal (or worse, boring). 

Finies les balades le long du canal les escaliers des cartes postales c'est fini, Paris c'est décidé, je me barre finis le ciel gris, les matins moroses, on dit qu'à Toulouse les briques sont roses oh là-bas, Paris, les briques sont roses	No more canal-side strolls No more stairs, or postcards It's over, Paris I've decided, I'm leaving No more gray skies, downer mornings People say that in Toulouse, the bricks are pink Oh over there, Paris, the bricks are pink
{Refrain:} Paris, tu paries, Paris, que je te quitte que je change de cap, de capitale Paris, tu paries, Paris, que je te quitte je te plaque sur tes trottoirs sales	Paris, you bet, Paris, that I would leave you that I'd change capitals Paris, you bet, Paris, that I would leave you that I'd dump you on your dirty sidewalks
je connais trop ta bouche, bouche de métro les bateaux mouche et la couleur de l'eau c'est fini Paris, je les connais trop ici je m'ennuie, même quand vient la nuit on dit que Séville s'éveille à minuit là-bas, Paris, la ville s'éveille à minuit	I know too well your métro entrances the Seine tourist boats and the color of your water It's over, Paris, I know it all too well Here I'm bored, even at nighttime People say that Seville awakens at midnight Over there, Paris, the city awakens at midnight
{Refrain, x2} à Toulouse il a plu, à Séville j'ai trop bu à Rio j'ai eu le mal du pays oh pari perdu, je retourne vivre à Paris	In Toulouse it rained, in Seville I drank too much in Rio I got homesick I lost my bet, I'm coming back to live in Paris

Just like Camille, we experienced high times and low times, enthusiasm and regrets. Sometimes we felt like we were "over" the city, and then the city would invariably pull one over on us, revealing another secret or moment of unmatched beauty.

In the end, we've come to the same conclusion as Camille: we may have left Paris, but we can already tell that Paris will never quite leave us.

Should We Stay Or Should We Go?

One sign it may be time to leave Paris: in the Parc des Buttes Chaumont today, we saw a mom encouraging her child to poop on the grass next to some bushes. She did not heed the message of the signs placed all over the city.

This is much, much more disgusting than the several times we've witnessed parents educating their children in the joys and conveniences of public urination. Just gross.

On the other hand, we've had 5 days of gorgeous weather, which is helping us remember why we fell in love with Paris in the first place. There are things you do in fine weather that beat all the museums, tea rooms, and restaurants in Paris. Yesterday, for instance, we indulged in a cherished summertime ritual: savoring a cone of Berthillon glace on the banks of the Seine.

(The Paris) Life is good. Maybe we'll stick around after all.

Two Days with Moritz and Rebecca

After a glorious, five-day romp in Paris, Becky flew back to the States yesterday (sad times Panda). Now that she and Gladis have come and gone, we only have one remaining visitor coming up - Maggie's mom. But before we get too ahead of ourselves, we're super late in gushing about two visitors we had in early April, when the ash cloud was still just a bit of indigestion in the belly of the Eyjafjallajökull Volcano.

Rebecca (Maggie's 2nd cousin) and Moritz (Rebecca's partner) had previously been our hosts when we visited Munich for Thanksgiving. We were excited to return the favor during their trip to Paris, and we hope we showed them as good of a time as they showed us.

Since neither Rebecca nor Moritz cared too much about hitting all the major sites of Paris, we were free to meander through our favorite areas, stopping by places both familiar and completely new. For example: the Maison de Victor Hugo (the apartment where he lived between 1832-48 is now a free museum run by the City of Paris) . . .


 . . . the Berthillon salon de thé . . .

 . . . La Grande Épicerie du Bon Marché, where all kinds of Easter-related delights could be found  . . .

 . . . and the Pont des Arts, where couples recently began leaving small padlocks attached to the bridge as a sign of their undying love (the City of Paris just announced it will soon begin removing said padlocks).

But the big event of the weekend had nothing to do with where we went or what we did. It started when Moritz emailed us several weeks before the visit, asking for restaurant recommendations for a "special celebration." Maggie came up with Les Ombres, the restaurant on top of the Musée du Quai Branly with close-up views of the Eiffel Tower. Here's the happy pair before dinner:

When they got home, we found out that Moritz and Rebecca had had the "best meal of their lives," followed by a short walk to the Eiffel Tower, where Moritz proposed, and where Rebecca accepted. Hooray! and congratulations!

It turned out Moritz and Rebecca showed themselves a good time in Paris. We're just glad we got to go along for the ride.

Photoquai

Yesterday, after taking advantage of the "free museum entrance the first Sunday of every month" to check out the Musée du Quai Branly (detailed post coming soon!), we walked through another free event called Photoquai.

A bi-annual, outdoor photography exposition, you'll find Photoquai along the left bank of the Seine between the Champ du Mars and the Pont d'Alma from September 22 through November 22. Its purpose is to showcase the work of photographers from all over the world, and this year the emphasis is on 165 years of Iranian photography. (You can see some of it here.)

In addition to its Seine-side "gallery," Photoquai has indoor outposts all over the city: at the Bibliothèque Nationale, at the Australian Embassy, at the Musée du Quai Branly (which is where you'll find the Iranian Photography exhibit), at the Musée d'Art Moderne, and elsewhere. But there's something special about viewing high-quality, high-resolution photography in an outdoor setting as unique as this quai along the Seine. (Even dreary weather can contrast provocatively with one shot, and emphasize the pathos of another.)

Inspired by what we'd seen, I attempted some clandestine, candid photography of my own during the métro-ride home . Maggie warned me that it was dangerous - what if someone realized what I was doing, and took issue? But true art is more important than worldy concerns, and so I forged boldly ahead en route to producing these masterpieces:

Ok, maybe I have some work to do. But I should be ready just in time for the next Photoquai in September 2011. Right?

FFF: "Floating" Food & Fun

On Saturday, Maggie, Robert, Panda and I headed down to Quai Montebello, just across the river from Notre Dame de Paris. There, we experienced a heightened version of traditional French food-shopping: Les Marchés Flottants du Sud-Ouest. Imagine a single row of 50 merchants selling cheese, wine, sausages, foie gras, preserves, chocolates, ice cream, dates, smoked duck breast and more - all products of three départements in the southwest of France.

(Tarn-et-Garonne, Lot-et-Garonne, and Gers are all located within the larger region called Midi-Pyrénées.)

We got to taste a number of items and beverages, we listened to a rag-tag marching band seemingly composed of merchants (which reminded us of the Hobo Band), we people-watched on the Quai, which justified the "floating" part of the market's name, since it sits right on the Seine. Robert bought a bottle of red wine and I invested in some duck rillettes. So delicious! So unhealthy! 

Afterwards, we treated ourselves to Berthillon Glace (only the best ice cream in the world), walked around the Centre Georges Pompidou to see an exhibit celebrating 60 years of the RATP (Parisian public transport, see pictures from the exhibit here), then eventually sat down at a bar in the Marais for a drink. Quite a full afternoon, and quite a fun one!