PARIS AU RALENTI-CONTINUED

This intrepid reporter is following up on her initial post with a fresh batch of observations and photos collected during her recent trip to Paris. The first part of Paris au ralenti probably gave you the impression that Paris had dramatically changed since the pandemic, and not in a good way: an ebullient, festive city turned into a mournful, quiet one. That’s only partially true. I won’t deny there were a few poignant moments where it was hard to shake the feeling of loneliness but they were vastly outnumbered by the numerous “proofs of life” shown by my fellow Parisians and by the stunning examples of everlasting beauty the city is famous for. To make it even better, I consistently found Parisians to be warm, chatty, and helpful! Follow along and you’ll see that, in spite of it all, Paris is always a good idea.

Versailles might be closed but, if you board the right RER C, a métro ticket is all it takes to be transported inside the Hall of Mirrors.

On our first day out, I decided to hang out in the 16th arrondissement. Why, oh why, would I do such a thing? Two reasons. Except for the Trocadéro-Guimet-Palais de Tokyo triangle and Musée Marmottan, that part of the city is shunned by visitors. I figured this affluent and mostly residential area would look reasonably “normal” and I could observe some Parisians in their natural habitat… Also, I was interested in walking in Hector Guimard’s footsteps but I’ll save that for another post.

Five muscular atlantes are needed to support a stone balcony on rue Jasmin

As expected, the streets in the 16th were very clean and the elegant apartment buildings were well-kept. Except for a few Space Invaders gone astray, we didn’t see any street art but filled our eyes with beautiful architectural elements of diverse styles.

Ceramic decor by Gentil & Bourdet on rue Boileau (1906)

Although cafés and restaurants were closed everywhere in Paris, this neighborhood felt lively in its own usual way (yes, it is more sedate than Barbès or Belleville.) Nannies were watching over boisterous children playing in the parks. Impeccably dressed older women were shopping for groceries at Monoprix or dropping off their dry cleaning at the pressing. A large contingent of masked middle-schoolers exited lycée Jean-Baptiste Say, jumped on their scooters, and headed home for lunch. None of them played ball against the wall of the Eglise d’Auteuil, a testimony to their superior reading skills and good manners.

Défense de jouer à la balle contre le mur. Not as common as Défense d’afficher.

Life goes on in other parts of Paris, too. Would you believe that people still buy pastries?

You can still satisfy your chou craving at Odette

Always a line at Kitsuné at Palais Royal

Early afternoon, rue Montorgeuil was not encumbered by tourists snapping photos of Le Rocher de Cancale: it was busy with locals shopping for meat, fish, and produce or picking up dessert for their evening meal. I suspect that all the other streets devoted to food shopping (rues Cler, Cadet, de Lévis, etc.) are equally patronized.

Picking up a baba au rhum, perhaps? It’s Stohrer’s specialty.

A few observations regarding the food scene. Many restaurants have switched to the vente à emporter or livraison models to stay in business. What struck me was the variety and quality of the food we could choose from. MacDo and Domino have their fans but ethnic and traditional French restaurants are offering a fantastic selection of to-go dishes that echoes what they would serve in their dining rooms. We got a delivery from La Ferrandaise: the menu included pork cheeks with blond lentils, low-temperature cooked veal breast with carrots, organic chicken with morels, and more delicious creations. You may have to forgo the restaurant atmosphere but you will get interesting food! I also really like that many restaurants still want to showcase their dining room as an inviting place either by populating the seats with stuffed animals (like Les Deux Magots in my previous post) or by setting up their tables just as if they could welcome you tout de suite. A nice change from the stacked Gatti chairs.

Would you care for some Champagne before your meal? At Le Pré aux Clercs.

Even when the tables are not set, it’s a delight to gaze at some of the restaurant facades.

So much history at Bouillon Racine, founded by the same Chartier family on rue du Faubourg-Montmartre.

Paris remains a gigantic chantier: construction is ever-present, everywhere you look. The Olympic Games deadline is looming large! In addition to the ongoing reconstruction of Notre-Dame, the Eiffel Tower is getting a new paint job.

Makeover time! La Grande Dame will sport her yellow-brown color again.

Fountain Medici in the Luxembourg gardens was emptied out; the renovation of the statues, basin, and water supply continues through June 2021.

Now we know how deep it is

The new Samaritaine complex is ready for its close-up but the new Louis Vuitton headquarters across the street are wrapped in scaffolding.

The Rivoli façade of la Samaritaine got more than a face lift! The Art Nouveau façade on rue de la Monnaie and original façade on quai du Louvre were nicely restored.

There is a running (pun intended) joke that Parisians “discovered” the virtues of sports as soon as they were told to remain inside their apartments. Gyms are currently closed: parks and gardens are the new locations to watch bodies squeezed into Spandex: fitness, running, Tai Chi… Apparently, boxing has many devotees, especially among women: one particular instructor was spotted at Luxembourg on Thursday and at Palais Royal on Friday. Have gloves, will travel.

Tai Chi in the gardens: low and slow.

Fitness class at Palais Royal. Note to self: head out to Kitsuné after working out….

If climbing is your thing, the underside of pont de Grenelle on Ile des Cygnes has been set up as a climbing wall. You can stare at the Statue of Liberty while pulling yourself up. Or, you could head out to the right bank near Pont d’Arcole and ride a stationary bike while watching the barges float by.

Who wouldn’t pick this view instead of riding a Peloton in their living room?

Of course, Parisians are also spending quality time outdoors with their four-legged companions.

Meet and greet on Ile des Cygnes

Cinemas may be closed but film production has resumed and we noticed crews at several locations. No Emily or Lupin sighting, though.

Stumbled upon the set of Les passagers de la nuit starring Charlotte Gainsbourg. No Charlotte sighting either…

And if you need further evidence that life in Paris is quasi-normal, rest assured: you can still enjoy a good street demonstration, and not just during the weekend.

Théâtre Odéon is occupied by actors and stagehands protesting the shutdown of cultural venues. We saw them every afternoon, playing and singing Bella Ciao.

Whether it’s March or July, a prudent traveler always carries an umbrella and keeps a Plan B in mind in case it rains. Covered passages and galleries are open; they provide lovely sights and one-of-a-kind shopping experiences.

Mosaic floor at galerie Vivienne. You did recognize it, didn’t you?

Churches were open as well. We popped into Saint-Germain-des-Prés right after a funeral; the restoration work is finished and the colors are stunning. That same afternoon, the rain and wind were so violent that we took refuge in Saint-Sulpice. During a funeral. We sat down by one of the side chapels. Saint-Sulpice is huge (the second largest church in Paris after Notre-Dame) and social distancing was in effect, along with masking and hand sanitizer. It felt a bit odd –and oddly comforting– to share this moment and space with a large group of strangers. As Aristotle said: “man is by nature a social animal.”

Come to the light! Stained glass projection at Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

In general, gardens seemed a bit less populated than usual but the weather was not necessarily encouraging people to linger on a chair with a good book. Tulips were not out yet but the tulip trees at Palais Royal had put on their seasonal show in beautiful shades of pink.

Blooms at Palais Royal

Whatever the season, gazing at floral shops is always a treat. Peculiar buildings, whimsical decorative touches, bouquets of flowers in galvanized buckets, potted plants spilling over the sidewalk… every shop tells a little story.

When the shop is as pretty as the flowers. Floranges on rue Michel-Ange.

Inside marché Saint-Germain, a Meilleur Ouvrier de France creates floral arrangements at maison Beaufrère.

Les Fleurs du Mal: what a great prop! Stanislas Draber on rue Racine offers flowers and poetry.

If all you can do is stroll, Paris might be the most exciting place to do it. Where else can you walk all day long and be treated to beautiful architectural details right and left?

130 rue Réaumur. It’s the main street in the old Sentier neighborhood, the former home of printing presses and sewing machines. Most of the imposing buildings have especially high ceilings on the lower floors where industrial equipment was set up.

Fantastic doors and caryatides abound in Paris. These two ladies on rue Monsieur le Prince are called La Studieuse and La Libertine. Which is which?

I often catch great reflections of the Palais Royal gardens in the shop windows under the Montpensier arcades.

In the mood for poetry? Rimbaud’s Le Bateau Ivre unfolds on a wall at rue Férou.

One of my (not so) guilty pleasures is to wait for a large porte cochère to open up, sneak inside, in hope of discovering a secret courtyard.

Score!

Sometimes, it’s “just” a worn-out staircase, a heavy wood beam, and an ornate handrail.

I think one of my next photography projects should be to search for lovely ceramic and mosaic details on Parisian buildings. That will keep me occupied for a while!

Mosaic at Relais Odéon

And, of course, there is also street art and art-in-the-street: even familiar places can be “new to you” on repeat visits.

There is always a photo expo hanging on the fences of the Luxembourg garden. If you can’t come to art, art will come to you.

Be masked and merry!

Each evening, the curfew required us to be back at the lovely hotel Saint-Paul Rive Gauche by 6 pm. We were not allowed to eat out but, one night, a talented saxophonist serenaded us with jazz tunes around 7:30 pm. I watched him pace the street and play until he disappeared from my sight. I took in the grey zinc and slate rooftops, the carved window pediments, and the forged iron balconies. I caught a fleeting glimpse of someone heading home, bathed in the warm glow of a street lamp. I drew the curtains closed. It had been a good day and Paris was still a good idea.

A room with a view

Vocabulary
Le pressing: dry cleaners
Le chou à la crème: cream puff
Le baba au rhum: a sponge cake soaked in rum, with whipped cream
La vente à emporter: take-out
La livraison: delivery
Tout de suite: immediately
Le chantier: construction site
La porte cochère: carriage entrance

My book is perfect to help you plan your next trip to Paris. Or to reminisce when you can’t cross the pond… Buy a copy of Moments Parfaits in Paris: I'll mail you (from France) a signed bookmark in an envelope bearing this collectible Trésors de Notre-Dame stamp!

COURTYARDS OF MILAN

My first visit to Milan lasted a mere fifteen hours and seven of them were spent in the seediest hotel I’ve ever walked into. For thirty years, Milan conjured up memories of questionable bed sheets, fantastic pasta, and a private moment with a masterpiece.

Cloister at Santa Maria delle Grazie

Arriving at the stern Milan Central station on a late afternoon of October 1988, my friend Raegan and I flagged a cab and rode to Santa Maria delle Grazie with only fifteen minutes to spare before the church closing time. We quickly dropped off our luggage at the entrance and walked into the convent’s refectory. In the middle of a huge restoration effort, the fresco on the back wall dominated the large dining hall: Leonardo’s The Last Supper was looming over us and another three or four visitors. It’s crazy to think that we just waltzed in and had the place virtually to ourselves: nowadays restricted timed tickets sell out months in advance.

Tickets are required to enter the refectory and view The Last Supper; the church itself and the cloister are open for free.

Three decades later, we decided to return to Milan for a proper visit. We opted not to secure tickets to The Last Supper, probably for fear of diluting our original emotions, but we did take the subway to reach the church neighborhood as it seemed to be lined with older buildings that opened onto lovely courtyards.

Your typical Milanese courtyard…

Not too shabby either

I am a sucker for courtyards. When I stroll the streets of Paris and notice a resident punching numbers on a digicode, I always pause and steal a peek inside the door. Sometimes, I even walk in to experience a quiet moment in the big city. Most of these cours intérieures belong to private apartment buildings but, once you’ve passed through the porte cochère, you can usually explore at your leisure.

Love the wrought iron gates!

Stately

Milan is a bit different in that respect. The large inconspicuous street doors are often left open but lead to wrought iron gates that don’t allow you to walk into the courtyards themselves.

Wow!

Many examples of coffered wooden ceilings, too.

The fer forgé is truly remarkable: those gates are both strong and delicate, practical and artistic, intricate and decorative.

I love the shadow of the gate, too!

So many courtyards, so little time…

Beyond the gates, courtyards are usually framed by columns and marble is lavishly used. As is typical of European cities that were built before construction materials could easily transit by train or trucks, local quarries supplied the stone. In the case of Northern Italy, it is marble: white, pink, red, blue-grey, black…

Care for some marble?

So elegant!

While I was not surprised that the Duomo (cathedral) would be completely built of marble, I did not expect to see so much of it used in “regular” housing: the charming interior courtyards I photographed were not hidden behind the facades of fancy historic palazzos.

Marble floor detail

Carving and sculpting marble also produces chips: they are recycled to compose mosaic-like flooring that often graces the entrances.

Wouldn’t you like to take classes in such a serene environment?

Palm trees!

A Milanese courtyard typically features stone fountains, exotic trees, trimmed bushes, and colorful flowers either in dirt or in pots, all arranged in an orderly fashion. It’s an elegant look but not overly formal.

When the gate is open…

Occasionally, it looks more like an English-style garden where the vegetation is free to “do its thing” without too much human coercion.

I hope you didn’t miss all the fancy light fixtures…

Courtyards have been a staple of Milanese architecture since the Renaissance and I imagine that, at one point, horses and their noble riders passed through the colonnades and quenched their thirst at the fountains. Nowadays, metal gates permit entrance only to bicycles and pedestrians. It makes these secluded places even more secret, enticing, peaceful, and photogenic than their Parisian counterparts.

So, which one was your favorite?

Vocabulary
Le digicode: electronic door lock with a numerical code
La cour intérieure: enclosed courtyard
La porte cochère: carriage entrance
Le fer forgé: wrought iron

BRIQUES ET GALETS

This year’s edition of Le Tour de France is wrapping up and I can only admire the courageous riders who are braving an intense heatwave and climbing treacherous Alpine passes. It’s nice to see the maillot jaune on the back of a Frenchman but, as I mentioned in my post La Grande Boucle, I mostly watch for the scenery, especially the aerial views from helicopters that keep track of the peloton along with stately chateaux nestled in the hills and cute little villages stretching along a river bend. Le Tour vu du Ciel archives short videos that highlight some of the architectural marvels revealed at each stage (addendum: France TV doesn’t seem to allow viewing the videos in all countries; try searching for Le Tour vu du Ciel on YouTube instead.)

This used to be a barn…

Even a casual observer will notice the amazing variety of construction materials used in France. A trained eye would probably recognize a particular region based on the stones gracing its buildings: tuffeau in the Loire Valley, marble in Provence, blue granite in Brittany, etc.

In Grenade-sur-Garonne, there are many examples of houses built with bricks and river stones.

If you find yourself in the vicinity of the Garonne river around Toulouse, Montauban or Agen, you will see countless examples of structures made with briques et galets. Although Romans introduced brick-making in the Toulouse area, builders in medieval times favored wood and mud. Brick was used in Toulouse again in the late 11th century during the construction of the Saint-Cernin church. Sainte-Cécile in Albi was built in 1282 and eventually became the largest brick cathedral in the world. But the high cost of bricks made it prohibitive for common folks.

A “briques et galets” wall adjacent to Notre-Dame-de-l’Assomption church in Grenade

Mostly bricks, a few river stones… Window at the Grenade church.

Bricks are made of clay that’s molded, dried, and fired in large ovens. Clay is plentiful along the Garonne and Tarn alluvial plains: draining the swampy river banks provided the raw material for brick-making while reclaiming more land for agriculture and reducing the mosquito population. The rivers also held another treasure: smooth fat galets. Walls build with a combination of bricks and river rocks were less expensive and gradually replaced the fire-prone timber structures from the Middle Ages.

Stables at the château de Merville

While nobles and rich merchants continued to build their homes with bricks alone or paired with cut stones, farmers combined briques et galets to construct retainer walls, barns, and pigeonniers. Many civil structures such as public markets, cemeteries, and city buildings also used the same technique. I first noticed them when my sister moved to Grenade-sur-Garonne.

This old wall has seen better days but it’s still holding up.

Too fancy a wall for Pink Floyd, I guess :-)

Unlike standard bricks that are prevalent in Northern France, brique Toulousaine (or brique foraine as it is also called) is large and flat: its width to length ratio is 2/3 instead of 1/2. Walls made with briques et galets are thick; they provide better insulation and help regulate seasonal temperature fluctuations.

Loveliness at every street corner. Check out those shutters in Cadours!

One added benefit is of an esthetic nature: river stones break up the regimented structure of bricklaying and introduce variations in colors and patterns. Necessity might be the mother of invention but it sometimes leads to artistic solutions as well. Don’t you agree?

It looks like someone chose very large river stones, or got a bit carried away with the concept…

Vocabulary
La brique: brick
Le galet: river stone
Le maillot Jaune: the yellow jersey worn by the leader of the race
La Grande Boucle: the big loop, the nickname for the Tour de France
Le tuffeau: white chalky stone widely used in the Loire chateaux and houses
Le pigeonnier: pigeon house
La brique foraine: from Latin foraneus (coming from outside); suggesting those bricks were not made on site but brought from a brickyard

THE "OTHER" TOWER

As a student in the late 70s, I took classes on rue de Rennes. Getting off at the St Placide métro station every morning, I could see the tall black stick looming a hundred yards away. The other tower in the Parisian skyline. The one we love to hate. The eyesore. Looking back, it is indeed puzzling how la Tour Montparnasse managed to satisfy the powers-that-be since it never seemed to fit in with the traditional architecture that Malraux set up to preserve. But de Gaulle wanted it, Pompidou had it built and it was inaugurated in 1973. The skyscraper remains the most decried monument in Paris. In fact, it was even elected “second ugliest building in the world” in 2008 by online readers of VirtualTourist.com.

Tour Montparnasse viewed from boulevard du Montparnasse

In spite (or because?) of my close proximity to Montparnasse during my student days, I was never inclined to visit the tower: my interest gravitated toward the local crêperies… I changed my mind just last month: saddled with a sudden hip inflammation that had me hobble to the pharmacy and purchase a cane as soon as I landed, I had to shuffle my plans and select activities that would minimize my walking and climbing les escaliers. Taking a speedy elevator to the top of the Tour sounded like a perfect alternative: I would get a bird’s eye view of the city instead of my usual streetside perspective.

Rooftops from the 56th floor. La Rotonde restaurant (red awning) at top left.

My expectations were quite lower than the tower itself (210 meters.) After spending a couple of hours at the 56th-floor observatory and the 59th-floor terrace, I kept wondering why I waited more than forty years to see that view. Let me tell you: it might just be the best view of Paris. Sure, the Eiffel Tower is about 100-meter taller but it is quite off-center and the crowds are maddening. Notre-Dame towers are perfectly located –it doesn’t get more central than that– but they don’t offer as wide a range and, sadly, it will be years before they reopen. The Arc de Triomphe just doesn’t cut it, although it is a lot of fun to observe the crazy traffic below.

Jardins de l’Atlantique above Gare Montparnasse.

The great thing about a 200-meter elevation is that roofs and walls of the buildings are in plain view: the monuments are easily discernable. If you don’t know Paris, it’s a great introduction to the layout of the city. If you are a habitual visitor, you will love recognizing familiar neighborhoods and following streets with your finger.

Montparnasse cemetery with its windmill to the right

Both the observatory and the terrace are set up with maps and virtual reality kiosks to help you identify all landmarks. Except one; more on that later. There is a café, a restaurant, and a boutique on the 56th floor; should you feel in a festive mood, grab a glass of Champagne on the terrace.

What a view! From left to right: métro aérien, bois de Boulogne, Ecole Militaire, Champs de Mars, Eiffel Tower, Palais de Chaillot, La Defense.

Given that Tour Montparnasse is located where the 6th, 14th, and 15th arrondissements intersect, most landmarks are located to the West, North, and East of the tower. A lot of tourists choose to visit early evening to watch the sunset but I would advise to go around lunchtime: I was there from 11 am to 1 pm and attendance noticeably dropped at noon. Groups simply vanished. At that time of the day, sunlight will hit all the places you are really curious about. If you can, avoid Wednesdays and Saturdays when you are more likely to share the space with groups of school children.

Palais des Congrès, Arc de Triomphe, les Invalides.

The panorama is breathtaking. With the help of orientation maps, looking from West to East, you can expect to clearly see the following: métro aérien (line 6,) bois de Boulogne, UNESCO, Ecole Militaire, Tour Eiffel, Palais de Chaillot, La Défense skyscrapers, Palais de Tokyo, Palais des Congrès, Arc de Triomphe, les Invalides, musée Rodin, pont Alexandre III, Grand and Petit Palais, Champs-Elysées, place de la Concorde, la Madeleine, Jardins des Tuileries, musée d’Orsay, place Vendôme, Opéra Garnier, Sacré-coeur, le Louvre, Institut de France, St Germain des Prés, St Germain l’Auxerrois, St Eustache, St Sulpice, tour St Jacques, centre Pompidou, Sainte Chapelle, Hôtel de Ville, Notre-Dame, palais and jardins du Luxembourg, Panthéon, tour Jussieu, jardin des Plantes, gare d’Austerlitz, Val de Grâce, Bibliothèque F. Mitterand, Port Royal, Observatoire, cimetière de Montparnasse, parc Montsouris. Oh my!

Les Invalides, musée Rodin, pont Alexandre III, Grand Palais, Petit Palais, and an unidentified building that looks like three gift boxes stocked on top of each other (top right hand corner.)

Place de la Concorde, La Madeleine, rue de Rivoli, Tuileries, Montmartre, le Louvre.

Jardin des Tuileries, Montmartre, Le Louvre, L’Institut, St Germain des Prés, St Eustache, St Sulpice.

Rue de Rennes, St Sulpice, Centre Pompidou, Tour St Jacques, Ste Chapelle, Hôtel de Ville, Notre-Dame, Palais du Luxembourg.

On a very clear day, you might even spot a plane taking off from Orly airport! Looking down toward the base of the tower, you’ll have a great view of the jardins de l’Atlantique that sit on top of gare Montparnasse and of the train tracks leading to Brittany.

Notre-Dame, Luxembourg gardens, la Sorbonne, Le Panthéon, tour Jussieu.

Looking East: Val de Grâce, boulevard de Port Royal, bibliothèque F. Mitterrand (“open book” buildings), the apartment buildings around place d’Italie.

And the “unidentified” building that looks like three gift boxes stacked on top of each other? It’s the new palais de Justice near porte de Clichy: the original location on the Ile de la Cité had become too small. I saw it up close the following day while driving on the boulevard périphérique. This new court building opened in April 2018 and the architect was Renzo Piano who also designed the centre Pompidou. At 160 meters in height, it is now the second tallest building in Paris after Tour Montparnasse. The western façade is sliced by a panoramic elevator that should offer lovely views of Montmartre but the general public can only visit the first four floors. It appears that Tour Montparnasse will remain the “other” tower with a view for a while longer…

The new Palais de justice near porte de Clichy

If you want to visit Tour Montparnasse, book your ticket online in advance. You need not specify a day or time and your ticket is good for one year. If the weather does not cooperate, it gives you the flexibility to pick a clear day.

Tour Montparnasse is scheduled to get a substantial “facelift” just in time (you guessed it) for the Olympic Games of 2024. See what the architects have in mind.

And here are more photos of the new palais de Justice.

Vocabulary
La crêperie: a restaurant that serves crêpes (sweet) and galettes (savory)
L’escalier: staircase; stairs
Le métro aérien: section of the Paris métro that runs above ground
Le boulevard périphérique: the ringroad around Paris proper

CHASSE-ROUES

I had seen them forever. They were part of the scenery but, quite honestly, I never paid attention to them while I roamed the streets of Paris as a student.

The former Banque de France building on place du Général Catroux

Hôtel particulier d’Almeyras, rue des Francs-Bourgeois

When my sister relocated from the banlieue to southern France seventeen years ago, I had no choice but to look for places to stay in Paris proper: hotels at first, apartments or Airbnb later on if the trip lasted more than four days. In retrospect, it was a blessing in disguise: spending more time in the capital, especially at night, gave me more opportunities to take note of architectural details instead of just rushing to the next appointment.

Rue Réaumur

Courtyard entrance, rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré

Short chasse-roues, tall caryatids on boulevard Saint-Germain

A bit of good advice when strolling in Paris is to look en haut: roofs, balconies, mascarons, the Eiffel Tower silhouette, a glimpse of Montmartre provide endless excitement. Another good suggestion is to look en bas and not just because Fifi might have left a petit cadeau for you on the trottoir. Throughout the city, I found the old doors enchanting and started to take an inordinate amount of photos to document their variety of style, color, and hardware.

Entrance to Monnaie de Paris, quai de Conti

Courtyard entrance in the 12th arrondissement

Going through my pictures, I noticed that many doors were flanked by low structures made of stone or metal. I had no idea what they were. Research ensued. Pretty soon I was not only photographing doors but also chasse-roues.

Old stone chasse-roue on place des Vosges; the example on the left is reinforced with a wide metal band.

A lonely stone chasse-roue on rue de Turenne

A fancier stone chasse-roue on rue François Miron.

Chasse-roues are not a new invention. They might not be as old as the wheel itself but, apparently, they could be found in antique times as soon as horse-drawn carriages were used. Their primary function was to protect the corner of a wall or a door: wheels and wheel hubs could easily scrape and dig into stone or wood.

A simple metal arc

The “boule” design

Hypotenuse…

Classic design on rue Custine

Another old design on rue de Charonne

Amazing what a good coat of paint will do! Blue on Blue, rue de Cambrai

Looking good on Blvd de Courcelles

You will find chasse-roues in every neighborhood of the city. They come in many shapes and two main materials. Stone was favored in medieval and Renaissance times but many different cast-iron designs were installed during the Haussmannian transformation of Paris.

Lion and Griffin

Rue du Faubourg -Saint-Antoine

Conic

Double snail, boulevard de Courcelles

Minimalist on Ile Saint-Louis

When automobiles replaced fiacres, chasse-roues did not serve a purpose anymore. In fact, they became a bit indésirables but they were unusually difficult to remove: most of them were left in situ. Which suits me just fine. We can all admire vestiges of another time and briefly transport ourselves to the 18th century. Just imagine a capricious horse hauling a gilded carrosse, the right back wheel hitting the guard stone, and someone shouting “sacrebleu” while the occupants readjust their fancy wigs…

Color coordination, rue de Trévise

Rue Tronchet. where Kim Kardashian was robbed. Chasse-roues cannot prevent all damages…

Ancient and worn out, rue Vieille-du-Temple

You may also enjoy reading about door knockers, bistro chairs, and shutters.

Vocabulary

Le chasse-roue: guard stone
La banlieue: the suburbs
En haut: up
Le mascaron: stone figurehead
En bas: down
Le petit cadeau: small gift
Le trottoir: sidewalk
Le chasse-roue: guard stone
Le fiacre: horse-drawn carriage for hire
Indesirable: undesirable, unwelcome
Le carrosse: a fancy horse-drawn carriage, completely enclosed

CURIOUS

Paris is filled with architectural wonders: Notre-Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the Grand Palais, Pei’s Pyramid… Whether medieval, contemporary or anywhere in between, the city offers enough structures to fill your time for weeks. After hitting the must-see monuments and museums, those of us who are lucky enough to visit Paris frequently become flâneurs: we just wander around, looking up and looking down, taking in the little details that regular guidebooks do not cover. We start noticing the different designs of heurtoirs and chasse-roues, niches in stone walls that used to contain oil lamps, public horloges and cadrants solaires, old wells with their iron pulleys, street signage that preceded the familiar cobalt enamel plaques, bullet marks that remind us of turbulent times, the occasional boîte à sable, perhaps even the boule aux rats at the church of Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois.

Sundials. There are 120 of them scattered around Paris, including this monumental one on rue Perrée, 3rd arr.

Four years ago, I picked up a copy of Curiosités de Paris from éditions Parigramme. They specialize in Paris-centric titles and I own almost all of them. It quickly became my inseparable travel companion. I refer to it for explanations about odd architectural discoveries I make during my walks. Sometimes, I comb the book ahead of my trip to identify unusual sights and objects I will encounter in the areas I plan to visit. The book is organized by categories but also features an index by arrondissement that cross-references hundreds of small treasures. Here are a few samples gleaned from my various scavenger hunts.

Corner guards. Ubiquitous at the entrance of old doors, they can be made of stone or cast iron. So many different designs, all made to protect the corners of a building from the wheels and axles of carriages. Rue Notre-Dame de Nazareth, 3rd arr. To the left, a leveling marker.

Street corner religious statues. Former oratory niches with statuettes of Mary, Madonna and Child, or various saints. Maison Bleue, across Notre-Dame-des-Victoires used to sell religious objects. 2nd arr.

Guild signage. To identify trades and occupations. A cast iron Graphic Arts panel replaces a window on rue Crussol, 11th arr.

Measuring instruments. Thermometers and barometers are less common than clocks but this one in passage Bourg l’Abbé is particularly stunning. 2nd arr.

Tombs. Strolling the cemeteries yields fascinating discoveries such as the Pigeon family grave in Montparnasse. He patented a portable gasoline lamp. 14th arr.

Vestiges of gas lighting. Before la fée électricité, street lighting used gas and fire stations had their own distinctive lanterns. Rue du Château-d’Eau, 10th arr. 

Ceramics and mosaics. On floors, ceilings, storefronts, building entrances… sometimes, the whole street is a visual feast. One of eight arcades of mosaics featuring wild animals at passage Rauch, 11th arr.

Architectural oddities. A drive-through château? Why not? Château des Ternes in the 17th arr.

Clocks. Old public clocks abound but this one at the 24-hour Central Post Office on rue du Louvre sticks out on a bracket to improve visibility: essential to make sure your tax return is stamped before midnight. 1st arr.

I was thrilled when this book was translated into English last year. The publisher sent me an advanced copy and I promptly added it to our catalog selection. It is a fantastic compendium of exciting, unusual finds.

My French and American copies

But I’m still curious about something. Did you ever notice that the spines of French and American books read in opposite directions? Anybody knows why? Please, post your theories in the comments section.

Vocabulary
Le flâneur: someone who strolls aimlessly
Le heurtoir: door knocker
Le chasse-roues: corner guard
L’horloge (f): clock
Le cadrant solaire: sundial
La boîte à sable: sandbox (used in case of icy streets)
La boule aux rats: ball of rats
La fée électricité: electricity fairy

KNOCK KNOCK

About a month ago, I visited an old Modesto acquaintance. I had not been to her house for many, many years and I noticed the knocker on her front door: the classic “main baguée” which is one of the traditional designs commonly seen in France, especially in the southwest. Funny: I have one on my front door. Of course, our house was equipped with a doorbell when we bought it in 1991 but the iron hand traveled in my suitcase twenty years ago –along with a few cans of pâté– and Rick promptly mounted it onto our front door. Kids love it at Halloween: they’d much rather announce their arrival with the knocker than by using the more pedestrian doorbell.

Perhaps the most basic one of the bunch?

The first door knockers were simple iron rings attached to bronze heads: they could be grabbed and pulled to close the door. Many of them were designed with a thicker part in the middle (or a ball) so they could hit the head of a fat nail also applied to the door, and preserve the wood. This style of heurtoir was commonly found on the doors of churches during medieval times: knocking on the door would get you entrance into a lieu d’asile. In fact, merely holding the ring would grant you sanctuary, even if you were a suspected criminal or a witch (yes, time to read The Huntchback of Notre-Dame again.)

Hammer-style door knocker. Looks pretty old...

Another hammer-style door knocker

A more ornate hammer-style knocker

Early designs for private homes were simple in shape, like little hammers. During the Renaissance and later times, door knockers became more ornate, intricate, and identified as status symbols of the house occupants. Blacksmiths and engravers designed, shaped, and carved utilitarian objects that were true works of art in iron, bronze, brass or cast iron; some so coveted that they were stolen from their doors.

The buckle style door knocker became very popular in the 18th century

A contemporary example

A light, elegant version

A few hotels particuliers , especially in Le Marais, still show spectacular examples of superb craftsmanship applied to an utmost utilitarian object.

Rue Saint Denis

Rue Charlot

Lots of great doors, and knockers, on rue Charlot

During the 19th century, industrial production replaced artisanal workmanship, although it often copied earlier models. Interestingly enough, door knockers are still perceived as decorative and functional objects: in France, at least, they happily cohabit with modern doorbells. I took most of those photographs in Gourdon where I bought my door knocker at the local hardware store for a few bucks. Although “my” hand is not an antique, it keeps me in touch (pun intended) with the old country. 

A bird, a woodpecker, perhaps?

A dog, I think

A fish

The hand (right or left) can wear a ring, or not, and on different fingers. It may hold a ball, or an apple, or not. The style of the cuff varies. 

My hand, all decked out for Christmas

A good door knocker will dress up any ordinary door

Vocabulary
La main baguée: a hand wearing a ring
Le pâté: seasoned ground meat (pork, duck, rabbit…) usually sterilized and served cold accompanied by bread
Le heurtoir: door knocker
Le lieu d’asile: a place (usually a church) that offers asylum, sanctuary
L’hôtel particulier (m): private mansion

BOUILLON CHARTIER

Confession time: I love Parisian brasseries. Not so much because of the food they serve: although I have been pleasantly surprised at times, dishes can be a bit pedestrian. But those venerable restaurants exude history and personality. To have a meal in a traditional brasserie is to be transported in time: Belle Epoque, Art Nouveau, Art Deco… pick your favorite era. I often dine alone when I am traveling and I refuse to surrender to room service: a brasserie is always warm and welcoming of solo diners. There is an element of predictability in the menu: you can be pretty sure the steak-frites and choucroute garnie will be decent, if not very enjoyable. Service is fast and efficient: watching the waiters clad in in their traditional uniform of black pants, white shirts, black vests and white aprons is akin to attending a well-rehearsed ballet at Opéra Garnier. And, of course, the décor provides endless amazement, inspiration, and surprises: I captured the perfect shot for the cover of my book while dining at Brasserie Julien!

From 7 rue du Faubourg Montmartre, enter the stone courtyard to reach the revolving door entrance to Bouillon Chartier. 

Many brasseries offer service continu, which means that you can pretty much order coffee, wine, or food from 7 am to midnight. The “fancier” ones may not offer breakfast but will stay open quite late, so you can still enjoy a leisurely dinner after the theater. On the other hand, if you landed in Paris at 10 am after a very long flight and you are fighting jet lag, you probably just want to get a decent meal on the early side.

Old-fashioned wood chairs and tables, basic tabletop and glassware, real fabric tablecloth topped with disposable white paper.

The evening of our arrival in Paris last month, Rick and I dined at Chartier. They don’t take reservations but they serve food non-stop from 11:30 am to midnight. We showed up at 6:30 pm (how un-French of us) and were seated immediately. One doesn’t go to Chartier for a gastronomic experience: since its very beginnings in 1896, the goal of Bouillon Chartier has been to provide a decent meal at a reasonable price and they continue to deliver on that promise. One could even argue that bouillon was the original fast –and cheap– food. Check out the menu: where else in Paris can you get a bowl of soup for 1 euro?

Consommé au vermicelle (broth with vermicelli) for 1 euro! A bottle of red wine for 13 euros! 

A hundred years ago, the typical Chartier customer was a Parisian worker; on that night last February, half of the dining room seemed to be filled with tourists. I didn’t mind. The food was satisfying and inexpensive. The atmosphere was lively and unpretentious. The Belle Epoque décor was simple yet gorgeous. Good times. I’ll let the photos speak for themselves…

The dining room: chandeliers, mirrors, and painting by Germont.

In the old days, "regulars" would keep their cloth napkins in their own numbered drawers. Not quite sure about the numbering logic there...

We were seated next to a bank of napkin drawers. I was very tempted to open one of them. Should have... Brass racks above the tables allow patrons to stow purses and coats.

Yes, there is a mezzanine! Brasserie waiters always look so sharp in their black and white uniforms.

Rick ordered escargots for his first course but I don't believe he used the snail tongs. Maybe he was afraid of flinging the shells across the dining room like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?

My frisée aux lardons was copious and satisfying. 

L'addition, s'il vous plaît! Scribbled on the paper tablecloth. Two first courses, two mains, one shared dessert, wine, and coffee for 42.20 euros. That's hard to beat in Paris! 

On the way out, there is a gift shop where you can purchase mugs, dishtowels, playing cards. magnets, or a "Cuvée Chartier" bottle of wine.

Does this look like the lines at Disneyland? When we left around 8:30 pm, there were a lot of people waiting to get in. Chartier doesn't take reservations and it's a popular place: go early or go late. Or just wait: worthwhile experience, if you ask me.

Vocabulary
Le steak-frites: steak and French fries
La choucroute garnie: sauerkraut garnished with an assortment of pig meat products
Le service continu: non-stop service
Le bouillon: broth
L'addition: the ticket
S'il vous plaît: please

METRO ENTRANCES, ICONIC OR NOT

The first time I took the métro, I didn’t pay attention to the entrance. I’m pretty sure I was holding my mother’s hand and she told me to watch my steps when we walked down into the bowels of the earth. As I related in one of the “moments” in my book, I mostly remember the poinçonneur punching a hole in our tickets and the pile of confetti at his feet. So, no; sorry to disappoint. This is not a story about my falling in love with Art Nouveau when I was six years old. I’m not even sure I appreciated the beauty of the métro when I was a student and used it every single day. At that time, it was just a transit option, a convenient way to get from Point A to Point B –unless there was une grève, of course. With a one hour commute and classes starting at 8 AM sharp, I didn’t have the luxury of spending an extra five minutes to decide whether I really liked Guimard’s “style nouille.”  

The only original "édicule" entrance stands at Porte Dauphine but Abbesses also features the distinctive glass roof of the end-of-the-line stations as designed by Guimard. The most common stations (over 100 of them) have molded iron railway surrounding three sides of the stairways, without a roof, as shown on the Cité station at the top of this post.

The first métro line (Porte Maillot to Porte de Vincennes) opened in 1900 and Hector Guimard had been commissioned to design the entranceways. Their purpose was mainly to prevent people from falling down a large opening in the sidewalk! But Guimard also made them beautiful and uniquely recognizable. A century later, the large majority of the métro entrances still harbor that very familiar and inviting Art Nouveau look. But time didn’t stand still: as the métro network continued to develop, new stations were added, and sometimes it made sense to locate the entrance inside an existing structure. They may not show that classic Guimard style but I like to be surprised and some of them are actually quite beautiful. Here are a few examples I photographed as I walked in the city.

The Sentier entrance above is located inside a stylish building in the old garment district.

Station Volontaires in the 15th arrondissement opened in 1910. Truly one of a kind.

Station Saint-Georges in the 9th arrondissement seems to lead to the basement of the hôtel de la marquise de Païva, built in 1840.

The original entrance to station Monge is the 5th arrondissement is located next to the arênes de Lutèce, one of the few remnants of the city in Gallo-Roman times.

Le Kiosque des noctambules was erected in 2000 on place Colette. Made of aluminum spheres and Murano glass, it is an entrance for the Palais Royal-Musée du Louvre station.

This iron gate leads to an entrance to the RER-métro at Invalides. It's located under the pont Alexandre III, at quay level, on the left bank.

Please comment and let me know which other atypical métro entrances you’ve encountered: I’ll try to take photos of them on future trips and add them to this post.

Vocabulary
Le poinçonneur: the ticket agent who punches a hole in your ticket before they had magnetic stripes or chips; he usually sat in front of the platform entrance.
La grève: a strike, aka the French national pastime… kidding, just kidding.
Le style nouille: noodle style, a somewhat pejorative way to describe Art Nouveau 

LES VOLETS

As we usher in a new year, I realize I’ve become a California girl at least in one respect: after a couple of weeks of temperatures hivernales (50ºF), I’m now ready for warmth and blue skies. I’m a wimp. But I can’t spend all my time snuggling with Lily!

Rue Voltaire

This leads to my reminiscing about my week in Arles last October. I had only passed through the Antique city on a previous trip but my friend Raegan was renting a studio and provided me with the perfect opportunity to linger and explore.

Rue Chiavary

The studio was perfectly located in the old part of town, a stone throw from Les Arènes and the Rhône river. We found ourselves randomly walking the narrow streets of our neighborhood. I fell in love with the three-story maisons de ville built of blocks of ochre stone and decorated with colorful wood shutters.

Rue Pierre Euzeby

Shutters, how do I (still) miss you! Even after some thirty-five years, that’s one thing a French girl living in California will never get used to. Shutters serve so many purposes: they shield you from the elements, heat and cold; they provide noise insulation and air circulation; they give you privacy. First and foremost, I love how they block sunlight in a bedroom and give me a fighting chance to sleep past sunrise.

Rue Roulet. Check out the iron and glass marquise on the right side!

The Greek already used marble shutters. The use of wood became prevalent in Europe during the Medieval Ages and the Renaissance but shutters were set on the inside for a simple reason: the fenêtre à croisée was not invented until the 15th century: if you can’t open the window, you can’t open (or close) outside shutters either.

Place du Forum

When you visit Renaissance castles, you’ll usually see evidence of hinges on the sides of the windows. The stone walls were so thick that wood shutters usually opened flat against the side walls, perpendicular to the window.

Rue de la Liberté. Spooky in a beautiful way.

As construction materials evolved, larger panels of glass could be manufactured and exterior walls became thinner; shutters were moved to the outside of the windows, circa 1750. At that point, the French started calling them contrevents although most people continue to use the more generic word volets. 

Rue Voltaire. An example of volets persiennés, shutters with louvers.

Volets pleins are made from wood planks held together by a couple of horizontal boards or metal braces.  Often, but not so much in Arles, the boards will be shaped like a Z. Volets persiennés are made with angled wood slats that allow some air and light to filter in. 

Rue Molière. I loved the iron work on the shutters and the window!

To hold open shutters flat against the wall when le mistral blows, arrêts de volets are screwed into the outside walls. The most prevalent design is called Marseillais and looks like a pivoting wing. My personal favorite is the tête de bergère, a bascule design that can be lifted up and pushed down to release the shutter. I always liked the face with the hat and used to call it petit bonhomme until I googled the term.

Shutter stoppers: Marseillais (left) and Tête de Bergère (right).

I love that you can still shop for this kind of hardware in any decent French quincaillerie. Some twenty years ago, we brought back a few têtes de bergère in our suitcase and used one of them to hold our side gate open against the fence. Apparently, there are several different types of “heads” out there, featuring men and beasts and things. Next time I visit a French city, I’ll pay special attention to shutter stoppers…

Rue Genive

Vocabulary
Le volet: shutter
La temperature hivernale: winter temperature
Les Arènes: amphitheater
La maison de ville: house in the city that shares walls with other houses
La fenêtre à croisée: French window featuring two large, hinged, wooden sashes arranged to swing in
Le contrevent: shutter (lit. against the wind)
Le volet plein: shutter made of solid planks
Le volet persienné: shutter with louvers
Le mistral:  strong northwesterly wind that blows through the Rhone valley and Provence
L’arrêt de volet:  shutter stopper
Tête de bergère: shepherdess’ head
Le petit bonhomme: little man
La quincaillerie: hardware store

Place Voltaire