Two weeks and not counting

With good bye lunches and dinners starting last week, I can no longer deny that we are soon on our way home. After several days of panicking and then understanding that this is not going to accomplish anything, I find myself calm and slowing down. With this stillness has come days of being a flaneur in Paris: walking aimlessly, discovering new neighbourhoods, no real goal or destination in mind.

I found myself strolling in the Cimitiere Montparnasse this week. Two of the most popular graves here are those of Serge Gainsbourg and Jean-Paul Sartre. Gainsbourg was an iconic French singer-songwriter, actor and director. It has been said that he "elevated song to the level of art." I walked up to Gainsbourg's grave just as a French woman was placing a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, metro tickets and a personalized note on his tombstone, which was already covered with numerous tributes fans have lovingly left behind. I could hear two Brits behind me, one saying to the other "did she just put a packet of fags on his tombstone?" in a strong English accent. "Disgusting" was the other's response. Gainsbourg was rarely seen without a smoke in his mouth. The cigarette pack brandishing fan then took off her coat to reveal a black t-shirt with white lyrics from the song "La Javanaise". Even through her slight embarrassment, she was quite pleased to be there. I guess crazy fans exist all around the world. This could be me in 30 years at Jim Cuddy's grave in my 80's wearing a t-shirt saying "And if we're lost, then we are lost together." For now, I look forward to seeing Jim next week at La Maroquinerie. And perhaps bringing some of Serge's music home, with his smooth voice, sexual and dark undertones, would be an excellent Paris souvenir. "J'avoue j'en ai bave pour vous mon amour."

I then searched for Sartre's grave for half an hour, to no avail. I'm sure he would have something existentialist to say about this and that I didn't consciously want to find it.

90 minutes in the cemetery being enough, I made my way over to la Foundation Henri Cartier-Bresson for a photo exhibit by Mitch Epstein titled American Power. I was pleased to see that this was not about the power Americans like to have but rather, all the power they greedily consume. The photos of nuclear reactors, electrical plants, off shore oil platforms, wind turbines, oil pumps, certainly made me reflect on what energy hogs we all are. At least I was relatively green this last year in my 50 sq metre Parisian apartment. And I have my hybrid car anxiously waiting for me at home.

The girls and I managed to squeeze in a quick rainy visit to the Musee Rodin with the always amazing, 90 year old, Mirielle. No visit to Paris is complete without a morning here; Le Penseur, the cheery Gates of Hell, The Burghers of Calais and my favorites, Le Baiser and La Cathedrale. The Cathedral has always signified a powerful lover's union to me, a triumphant interaction. I tend to ignore the symbols of hope and faith or any religious significance, with the two right hands pointing towards the sky.

Thursday I had a special meeting and good-bye lunch with my Memoir Writing Group. Working with them and meeting weekly for the past 5 months has been incredibly motivating and has literally launched my writing. Merci les amies and until next year. D'accord!?

And of course, no lunch in a family owned Parisian bistro is complete without the family pet watching us enjoy our food!

Two weeks left. I will see how much I can squeeze in and don't think that sleeping should be on the agenda. After all, Paris is open day and night, 7 days a week. I figure emptying the apartment and packing can all be done in the last 48 hours. And then I can start panicking!

Family Adventuring - Canal Saint Martin

With less than a month left in Paris I seem to have slipped back into tourist mode. I know my days here are limited and as a result I am squeezing every minute out of them that I can. If I could I would stay up 24/7 to do as much as I can before our dreaded departure date.

Today the girls and I went to the Canal Saint Martin in northeastern Paris. This Canal feeds into the Seine in the south and the Bassin de la Villette and the Canal de l'Ourq in the north. We hopped on a boat at La Bastille and took a 2 1/2 hour trip up the canal. Napoléon ordered the construction of the Canal Saint-Martin in 1802. It was originally built to link the Canal de l'Ourq to supply fresh water to the city. In the 19th century, the area was mostly occupied by working-class laborers. Only recently has it started to attract well-to-do professionals eager to snag apartments with views of the canal.

The boat started by going into the 1km long vaulted tunnel under the Place de la Bastille. This was followed by 4 double locks and 2 swing bridges along the canal. Numerous classic iron footbridges traverse the canal, usually with people on them, looking down at us, while we were looking up at them. The girls enjoyed going through locks in a boat for the first time, watching the water swish in and the boat quickly moving upward. I enjoyed the quaint neighbourhoods we passed through, the foot bridges and the fabulous people watching. I need to invest in a large zoom, or "borrow" George's Nikon & lenses, to zoom in on some of interesting faces and characters lining the canal, again, us looking at them, while they were checking us out.

Next time I make it to this part of Paris I will have to nurse a drink on one of the many local terraces and enjoy a meal at the current hot spot, Chez Prune. Its where all the trendy young Parisians go, so I will, of course, fit right in!

Tomorrow more adventuring for me in eastern Paris at the Bois de Vincennes as I explore the little known Jardin Tropical, or less nicely put, what remains of the old human zoo from the 1907 colonial expo. I will finish the week days out with a visit Friday to le Grand Palais to discover an artist new to me, Odilon Redon. It certainly looks like the next 3 weeks will be non stop for me, clutching to every last minute I can in my adopted hometown.

Where did May go!?

My forty something birthday this past weekend was certainly entertaining and unique. What a delight to be celebrated by my adopted Parisian family, Mirielle and Les Cabritas. Excellent wine, chilled champagne, delicious food, many laughs, a beautiful warm evening and most importantly, good company made my Paris birthday memorable. Merci les amis et ma famille.

Saturday was spent wandering around Roland Garros, trying to sneak a peak at some of my old favorite tennis players with tickets for the Legends Tournament –basically all the “older” players. Came upon a fun game with Andre Agassi, Jim Courier and others. Even in an amusing laissez faire exhibition match, I would not want to be anywhere near the tennis court with either of these two. Came across Nadal practicing for the finals, his serves whizzing by, blurry tennis balls flying all over the court. Nice arms on that boy! We also watched the ladies Legends doubles semi-finals with Lindsay Davenport, Martina Hingis vs Sandrine Testud and Andrea Temesvari. Seeing these amazing women hit the ball certainly makes me want to get back on the court and see if I still even know how to hold a racket. Tennis is now officially on the Calgary 2011 summer activities list. I kept scanning the crowds for my 1980’s tennis hero Borg in his Fila track suit and sweaty headband but no Bjorn sightings for me at the French Open. Not too happy to hear that Nadal has now matched Borg’s record of six French Open titles.

Fabulous 9 day visit from Jackie, le theatre, handball games, writing groups, graffiti, Musee d’Orsay, Andre Agassi, a trip to Gex, family visits, Montmartre, Loveday, lunch & visits with long lost German relatives, Belleville, sun filled days, bike rides, perfectly chilled panaches, Napoleon’s tomb, the streets of Paris, climbing La Tour Eiffel for the 3rd time this year, being "mooned" by French teenagers, Les Invalides, walks along Blvd de Montmorency, Corinne & Dave, many hours writing, weekends at the family country house, and far too much wine have all kept me from my weekly blog updates –at least these are my credible excuses. With one month left is Paris I am being called by the deliciously warm summer days & evenings and the gorgeous city streets. Am feeling “bien dans ma peau” in my home away from home. Plan to take advantage of it while I can.

Saturday Fun at the Jardin de Luxembourg

Who would have thought that pushing a wooden sailboat around a pool with a long stick could be so much fun? I certainly did not, but my girls loved it. Yes, we finally made our way to the Jardin de Luxembourg on Saturday. It was a “not a cloud in the sky” kind of day, hot, muggy and beautiful. I love spring in Paris!

As Nathalie pushed around her white sailboat with an elephant on the pink sail, Gabrielle was rushing after her black and red pirate sailboat. I vividly remember doing this with them 5 years ago when they were 3 and 6 years old. Gabrielle was barely big enough to reach the boat and her big sister did most of the pushing, but both girls ran around the pool, back and forth depending on the direction of the boat and the wind. I was right behind them, easily keeping up with their little legs. This time around I enjoyed sitting on the edge of the pool, watching them laugh and patiently wait for their boats to come back to the sides and within reach of their sticks. I sat next to a young Korean girl getting mad with her French male companion, telling him that he did not know how to debate and discuss properly. Needless the say, it was amusing to hear both of their opinions. I wanted to tell her that she is in the wrong part of the world to be arguing about debating properly, this is a discussion you will never win here. From my experience, the French have made debating an art form. Always interesting to see different cultures trying to get along.

An hour was spent at the Children’s playground, which with all the kids running around, full of energy, was more like a zoo. Kids laughing, sliding, climbing, tumbling and yes, falling and crying. Luckily my two managed all of this without the falling and crying.

They also spent 5 thrilling minutes on the old fashioned boat like swings, together, each of them on their own side. All I heard for the 5 minutes was constant laughing, giggling and joyfully shouting at each other. They are already asking to go back, with a friend each this time, for the swings alone.

The Jardin de Luxembourg is also perfect for people watching, and on a Saturday, there are many people to watch. Some basking in the sun, eyes closed, cold beer nearby. Others hiding in the shade, newspaper and coffee in hand. All ages, shapes, sizes, and ethnicity are present, making the viewing fascinating and ever changing.

The day came to a perfect Parisian end with an ice cream cone at famous Dalloyau. It looked so good that I even had to have one, saveur café bien sur.

New Paris Discovery - The Tower at Notre Dame

A myriad of trips to Paris, countless walks past Notre Dame de Paris, immeasurable walks through the cathedral, with family, with friends, being a tour guide, and alone, just because I felt like it. When I was at university in Paris in the early 90’s hearing the bells ring at Notre Dame, seeing the crowds gather in front and walking past it to get to the gym, were part of my every day life. Yet, after this limitless exposure in my life, I had never climbed up the 387 steps to the top of the south tower. Today, with my girls, Lise and Julian, who are visiting from Calgary, we made our way up the old steep narrow steps of Notre Dame. This was after an hour of standing in line made tolerable by ingesting Nutella crepes. The wait was worth it for the 5 of us. What a magnificent view. Discovering new and different angles of the cathedral, the intimate view of the gargoyles and my first introduction to the 13 ton bell. All French bells have names and the enormous bell that hangs in the south tower is named Emmanuel. It takes 8 men to ring the bell by hand. Luckily no bells were ringing while we were climbing and admiring the views (although they might have been for Lise who has claustrophobic and vertigo issues). It was also remarkable to see the neighbourhood where my mother grew up, from above. The streets she roamed, the church where she was baptized and where several of my first cousins were married, from a completely different perspective. The distances look shorter, the buildings more fragile, and the colors more vivid. What a stunning area.

I love that in Paris, after all the trips here and all the time spent here, there are still parts of this fascinating city that I do not know and have yet to discover. My “home away from home” can still surprise and exhilarate me. My 40+ year wait to climb the stairs at Notre Dame was well worth it.

Connections? A Day in Szczecin/Stettin

My family was good enough to spend four hours on the train with me yesterday. Two hours each way to travel to Szczecin, Poland, north east of Berlin, over the German-Polish border.

My father was born in Szczecin in January 1931 when this was still part of Germany and known as Stettin. He always spoke fondly of his birth town even though he only lived there until the age of 12 or 14 years old. The details and dates are sketchy. It appears as if he came and went, between being sent away (with no choice) to an elite Nazi boarding school as a young boy, and then returning to fetch and flee with his mother and younger brother when the Soviets entered Germany. I have always believed that this town represented family and happiness to him and I wanted somehow to share this with him, to have a connection to his childhood, which I cannot now ask him about. There were also the painful moments. His little sister died in 1942 as a toddler and then his father was killed in the German army, three weeks after being sent away. Perhaps this is why he never returned to Stettin. It represented joy and good times but then ended in bad memories. He also never did have the opportunity to return. He died three years before the fall of Berlin Wall.

I know I was searching for something in Stettin. A link to my father, something he spoke about, something familiar, from pictures he rarely showed us but that are forever marked in my memory. There was no familiarity for me, nor the connection I had been yearning for. Stettin seemed like a busy, slightly depressing, former eastern block city. My father would not have known it like this. Yes he would have remembered the trams, some of the striking medieval and neo-gothic buildings, but not the communist era apartment buildings, the new high rises and the graffiti covering much of the city. But I’m glad I went, even for a few hours. I saw where he came from, the streets he wandered as a child, the place where he was happy as a young boy and this somehow makes me feel closer to him. He would be happy we went.

Stettin was an interesting day trip from Berlin, a bustling city of 400,000 inhabitants, but not what I would call a tourist destination. Thanks for accompanying me my adorable family and giving up a day in Berlin. It would not have been the same without you. As my father always believed, family is everything, I am glad you were with me.

Tomorrow, a day cycling through Potsdam, discovering its superb and infamous castles and gardens. Our Deutsch adventure continues.

Tai's Take on Berlin

We are lucky enough to now be in Berlin for 9 days. Even better to have met up with George here, to discover a new city all together. We initiated our visit with a walk to the Reichstag and the Brandenburg Gate. What a perfect way to introduce ourselves to Berlin history. We could not figure out though what all the police and crowds were doing in front of a large hotel by the Brandenburg Gate. Like good tourists we stood around wondering who the red carpet, limousines and security were for. After a brief discussion with a kind polizei we discovered that we were all waiting for Hilary Clinton to come out of the hotel. And she did. We saw her arm waving and her blond hair and I have some blurry pictures to prove it! Day #1 was ended in good German style with schnitzel, fried potatoes & beer for dinner. We all went to bed with smiles on our faces and extremely full stomachs!