PARIS AU RALENTI

The trip had been postponed for a year. Despite living in France, I hadn’t set foot in Paris since September 2019. I knew that museums would be closed; cafés and restaurants would not welcome patrons; a 6 pm curfew would still be in place. We decided to go anyway and make the most of it. It was Rick’s birthday after all and it would be a nice change of scenery. The fact that I had been away from Paris for (what seemed to be) an eternity was putting me in a unique position: it would be easier to notice how the city had changed since its pre-pandemic days.

We arrived at Gare d’Austerlitz on a Tuesday at 5:30 pm which qualified as “peak hour” since the curfew started half-an-hour later. I expected platforms and trains to be packed but I was wrong. With no lines at the ticket machines and very few commuters pacing the RER and métro corridors, it felt more like a quiet Sunday morning in Paris before the young set heads out pour bruncher and the 40-years-old carry bouquets on their way to have lunch at their parents’.

Métro-RER corridor between Saint-Michel and Cluny-La Sorbonne

I know this doesn’t quite jive with what is typically shown in news reports but we never encountered crowds in public transportation during our 5-day stay. Call me crazy but I purposely went through the Châtelet-Les Halles interchange for no other reason but to see how crowded it was. I’ll let you judge for yourselves: here is a time-lapse video where you can (almost) count every commuter using the people movers.

Most of the time, we seemed to be stuck in a time warp: the walls were still plastered with affiches advertising winter vacations in sunny locations or movies and plays that briefly opened last Fall before the second confinement began. Many of the paper posters were tattered, signaling that advertisers had pretty much paused any campaign they had planned since the 4th quarter.

“Our Christmas gift to you: to make you laugh!” Are we laughing yet?

As expected, the closure of cafés and restaurants is the most glaring evidence of the pandemic; probably because they’re huge social hubs, day or night.

No onion soup for me today! To think that Au Pied de Cochon had been open around the clock, every single day, since 1947…

Au Père Louis on rue de Vaugirard. Even outdoor service is not allowed.

Sad sight at Café de Flore.

Some, like Les Deux Magots, “pretend” to serve customers.

Les Nounours des Gobelins do get around! Lucky bears…

Many of the smaller eateries shifted to the vente à emporter model, either click-and-collect or delivery by UberEats, Deliveroo, etc.

Le Pré aux Clers offers vin chaud, soups, and to-go meals.

Clearly, restaurants have no idea when they might resume operations.

“Nous rouvrirons à l’automne.” Polidor was using the Spring confinement to do some remodeling, expecting to reopen in the Fall. They’re still remodeling.

A café at marché Saint-Germain is not making any time commitment: dès que possible…

The “fruit bar” on quai des Grands Augustins has an injunction for all: stay fired up!

Not being able to sit down at a café for lunch means that more French people eat while they walk (the horror!) or look for a bench in public parks.

No seats left in square Laurent Prache.

Front row seating on place Saint-Germain.

Window seating at Palais Royal.

I purchased a couple of Merveilleux on rue du Pont Louis-Philippe and we ate them right on the street, using the top of a shipping pallet as a table.

Undoubtedly, the pallet had been used to build a parklet in front of the now-closed restaurant.

Let me tell you, it’s hard to spend six-to-eight solid hours on your feet without the possibility of seating down in front of an espresso or a glass of wine! And it’s a bit tricky to depend on public toilets since cafés and department stores are closed. Whatever you do, do not leave home without loading the (free) Toilet Finder app on your phone: truly a life-saver.

Public restroom on rue du Four. All toilets are automatically cleaned after each user and have hand-sanitizer dispensers on the outside.

Speaking of urban furniture… The Wallace fountains work very well, most of the Morris columns advertise plays that theaters can’t show, and it looks like the old newspaper kiosks have all been replaced with their “new-and-improved” models.

Sign of the times at the kiosks: few postcards, many masks.

Many other sites are in “sleeping beauty” mode.

Like all movie theaters, the UGC Danton only showed a few films in Summer-early Fall before having to shut down again.

Notre-Dame will not wake up for several years but the work continues. All the melted scaffolding was removed. Engineers and artisans continue to consolidate walls. There is still debris to evacuate inside the cathedral before restoration and rebuilding can start.

The bouquinistes’ lockers didn’t see any daylight while we were there but perhaps they feared rain showers. On the other hand, many of them heavily rely on the tourist trade.

Car traffic has gone down noticeably: nowadays, you are more likely to get run over by a vélo than a voiture. Even the Seine seems to be taking a break. There are no Bateaux-mouches or Vedettes du Pont-Neuf on the water. Even the Batobus service was suspended at the end of September. They hope to resume service in April (dream on…) The only boats we saw were houseboats moored on the banks and merchandise barges carrying wood, sand, or construction debris.

Esperanza on the Seine.

After staying on the Right Bank for many years, I had booked a hotel in the Latin Quarter for this trip. It was “my” Paris when I was a student in the late 70s-early 80s but the neighborhood had changed a lot over the past 40 years. The rectangle defined by boulevards Saint-Michel, Saint-Germain, Saint-Jacques, and quai Saint-Michel used to be an exciting and culturally vibrant area before the fast-food outlets, kebab joints, overpriced cafés, and souvenir shops turned it into a tourist mecca. It truly had become a zoo.

This time was very, very different. Foreign tourists had no choice but to stay home, and so did most French students after remote-learning became the norm. It was a ghost town. Many of you are quite familiar with that neighborhood and I think you will be shocked when you take this little stroll with me.

An eerily quiet rue de la Huchette. Rue de la Harpe wasn’t any livelier.

Curtain down at Théâtre de la Huchette. Ionesco’s La Cantatrice Chauve and La Leçon had been playing there since 1957, the longest running show without interruption at a single theater.

Le Caveau de la Huchette also went dark. After the Liberation of Paris, its caves welcomed jazz greats like Sidney Bechet and Claude Luter. Until the pandemic, it was open every single night.

 “Souvenirs row” across square Viviani, on rue Lagrange. Speechless.

The bookstore was open but when was the last time you could take a pic of Shakespeare and Company without an American tourist photobombing your shot?

Last days at Gibert Jeune, an institution for more than a century. For any former Latin Quarter student, this feels like the end of an era. All four stores around place Saint-Michel are closing forever.

So, yes, Paris feels like a different city at the moment. During the first confinement, mesmerizing photos highlighted the beauty of an empty city. They felt strangely peaceful; time was suspended. My photographs tell a different story; they show a city that’s wounded and is barely convalescing; but it’s also reinventing itself. There is some gloom and some sadness but there is resilience as well. And the beauty is still out there for everyone to see. That’s what I’ll show you in my next post…

Coming soon to a café near you: Gatti chairs and an aperitif en terrace. Can’t wait!

Vocabulary
Au ralenti: in slow motion
Pour bruncher: to have brunch
L’affiche: (f) poster
La vente à emporter: take-out
Vin chaud: (hot) mulled wine
Dès que possible: as soon as possible
Gardez la pêche: lit. keep the peach; remain upbeat
Le vélo: bicycle
La voiture: car

SILVER LININGS

Who would not want to wear rose-colored glasses these days? Nine months into this pandemic, the virus continues to create chaos, our lives are still in limbo, and we still can’t see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Although France successfully flattened the curve through a strict confinement last spring, the number of infections rose exponentially after the summer vacations. After enacting curfews in large cities for a couple of weeks in October, the French government ordered another lockdown: it seems to be the only way to contain the virus propagation before all ICU beds are filled with Covid patients. Winter is coming and there will be tough months ahead.

Blessed are the dogs who know nothing about the nasty virus. Here is Lily surveying the edge of our woods. For her, life is as normal as ever. April 2020.

To shake off the blues, I binge-watched the Netflix series Emily in Paris and I was almost shocked to realize that everything looked so normal, except for her positively palatial chambre de bonne. How refreshing to see Parisians going about their life without face masks, colorful cafés packed with patrons, and fashion shows crowded with attendees close to each other! The first season was filmed in the second half of 2019 and the showrunners may have to wait a year or two before Emily can return to her charmed life in the City of Light. Since nobody needs to read a whiny post about the disruption and distress caused by the virus, I decided to showcase some of the positive things that I’ve observed over the past few months. Join me for a feel-good visual tour!

A very familiar sight for Emily’s fans: this hotel –and its fantastic glass and iron marquise– stands across from her office. November 2018.

Everybody knows how to REALLY wash their hands now
Next time someone greets you with a handshake –whenever that might happen– you will no doubt appreciate that our collective hygiene standards have substantially improved. Sales of Marseille soap have gone through the roof. Ah! It may just compensate for the disappearing use of lipstick.

But, but, but… where is the hand sanitizer? Photographed at Musée Rodin, October 2010.

Fashion is dead, long live fashion
On March 25th, my mother asked her sister-in-law to sew a cloth mask for her: it had to be maroon to match her purse and shoes! If an 88-year-old woman cared that much about the color of her mask, it was inevitable that face coverings would become the next hot fashion accessory. Predictably, the latest sartorial trend was in full display during Fashion Week last month. Of course, fashion houses will have to peddle many, many designer masks to make up for lackluster sales in other categories. I predict that, next year, all models will walk the runways wearing black leggings and fancy Zoom shirts, blouses, or jackets.

How about a stunning embroidered jacket for your next Zoom call? Spotted on rue du Faubourg St-Honoré, October 2016.

Thinking locally
In the early days of the pandemic, I kept waiting for signs of coordinated action, at least at the European level; I was dismayed when the EU hardly lifted a finger to help Italy. In my opinion, the French government’s efforts to blunt the economic impact were solid: massive layoffs were avoided, at least initially. Most of all, it warmed my heart to witness so many displays of solidarity at the local level. Cities and villages got quickly organized to check on elderly and vulnerable people, running errands or picking up medicines for them. We supported farmers who set up distribution points for local produce. We ordered take-out food from restaurants who had never offered such service before (check this post to see what one of my local “take-out” meals looked like.) And, of course, we collectively made cloth masks for the whole village in March, at a time when disposable ones were not available to the general public.

It takes a village, and detailed instructions… April 2020.

Small is beautiful
Les spectacles vivants like theater, dance, music, sports were all but canceled. Some large productions found creative ways to bring their performances in front of an anxious public during the spring lockdown, either on their websites or through French TV. By summer, many artists were later able to resume their shows albeit on a much smaller scale. Musicians were quite active indeed: they often set up by the terrace of local restaurants so we could safely enjoy a good meal and a concert. The city of Gourdon closed the circular boulevard to car traffic and organized street entertainment every Thursday evening; it could be used as a stage for a large swath of entertainers including Brazilian dancers, clowns, magicians, storytellers, and more.   

La Bedoune performing en terrace at the Hostellerie de Goujounac, August 2020.

Everyone is an artist
Social media is often decried but it enabled everybody, famous or not, talented or not, to showcase their artistic endeavors: playing the cello on a balcony, dancing Swan Lake in a bathtub, building action figures with toilet rolls and chips packets… Perhaps my favorite series was the Getty Museum Challenge that prompted humorous recreations of famous paintings avec les moyens du bord. Rick was a good sport and indulged me when I staged him as my very own Lapin Agile.

A favorite painting and my favorite guy. June 2020.

The Call of the Wild
City dwellers were forced to reevaluate the value of their lodging choices: small (and expensive) quarters may be fine when restaurants, museums, and parks are waiting to welcome you but will feel unbearable when a whole family has to share 700 square feet, 23 hours a day, for 55 consecutive days. Parisians who were lucky enough to own a second home in the country quickly exited the city to settle into their résidence secondaire, as long as WiFi coverage was decent enough. It may or may not be a long-term exodus: only time will tell. But, based on my conversations with local agents, the real estate market here is very lively and they just don’t have enough properties to offer. Many French rural areas that saw their population dwindle during the past few decades will enthusiastically welcome a fresh influx of younger working professionals.

Too late! This medieval timbered house in old Gourdon sold in June…

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose
You’ve got to love the French who were nevertheless making plans for their vacations while the epidemic was raging in April: les vacances sont sacrées! They mostly chose to stay in France (not that there was much of a choice…) and headed out to la montagne, la campagne, or la plage. For those who opted for the seaside, this was a great opportunity to (re)discover beaches in Northern France and Brittany that are not as popular as those on the Mediterranean. It’s clear that the French are in no mood to sacrifice their vacations –even during a pandemic– but it’s nice to see tourism money sprinkled all over the country.  

The French do love the beach! Avoid July and August to “enjoy” more social distancing. Piémanson, in the Camargue area. October 2017.

Bicycle kick
Trying to avoid mass transportation, city dwellers are rediscovering the many health benefits of riding bicycles: physical distancing AND exercise! Paris and other large cities are encouraging this trend and adding bike lanes. In many regions, substantial subsidies are in place as incentives to purchase electric bicycles (we bought a couple of them and our net cost was 20% of MSRP.) Although bicycle use helps lower pollution indexes, I suspect many riders will flock to buses or the métro as soon as the weather turns nasty. In related news, sales of gas-thirsty converted vans and campers are through the roof, with a 6 to 10-months wait until delivery of a new vehicle. Win some, lose some…

We love our new electric bikes! Payrignac, October 2020.

Nouveaux maux, nouveaux mots
New words are invented all the time and merely reflect new technologies and human activities. Old words that we didn’t even know suddenly invade our everyday conversations. By now, everybody knows about nose swabs (écouvillons) and N95 masks (masques FFP2). We practice social distancing (distanciation sociale) to avoid superspreaders (super propagateurs). We wear our Zoom shirt (chemise visio) while holding videoconferences (visio conférences) with colleagues. And when it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, we can toast our friends with a Skype apéro or a coronapéro. Unlike George Orwell’s Newspeak in 1984, this novlangue doesn’t aim to suppress individual thinking; it just underlines that we all share the same concerns, at the same moment.

France is a divided country: are you Rosé or Ricard? Chez moi, August 2020.

A new way to travel?
For some lucky travelers, the pandemic offered a rare chance to explore popular locations without the usual crush of tourists; for the majority of us, it meant cancellations galore. 2020 will be remembered as the epitome of armchair travel. Thanks to Facebook, YouTube, and other apps, I’ve enjoyed virtual tours to many destinations, old and new. Whether filmed by locals or professional tour guides, these videos keep me in the travel loop: exploring, learning, dreaming. Perhaps they even force me to see more of the world, not less; to watch with more intent and wonderment; and to select my future destinations with more insight and desire. Who knows what next year has in store for me. The good all USA remain high on my list, of course. Vietnam was booked, canceled, postponed; perhaps on track for late 2021. And the light of Venice still haunts me: I must return. Besides, I hear La Serenissima has a fantastic selection of beautiful masks…

 Where will you be going next?

It takes a city, and centuries of craftsmanship. Venice, October 2019.

Vocabulary
Le confinement: lock-down
La chambre de bonne: maid’s quarters (usually a tiny bedroom under Parisian rooftops)
Le spectacle vivant: live show (performing arts)
Avec les moyens du bord: lit. with the means at hand; with what we have on hand
La residence secondaire: country home
Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose: the more it changes, the more it stays the same
Les vacances sont sacrées: vacations are sacred
La montagne: the mountains
La campagne: the countryside
La plage: the beach
Nouveaux maux, nouveaux mots: new ailments, new words

To feed your dreams of Paris and plan your next trip, please consider buying a copy of my book Moments Parfaits in Paris, where you’ll explore every arrondissement through forty photographs and essays. Hint: it’s also a thoughtful holiday gift for this dear Francophile friend of yours… When you purchase the book, I will mail you a signed bookmark from France and stamp your envelope with this stunning timbre Trésors de Notre-Dame. Merci! Your support helps me maintain this blog.

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!

FIRST OUTING...

... after the end of our strict confinement. We can now travel within a 100 km radius. Eyrignac et ses jardins are located a mere 17 miles from our house. For the first time in 35 years, they were closed because of the lockdown but they just reopened last week. It's such a beautiful, serene place and the gardens are "magnifiques". Perfect weather and it was a real pleasure to explore the property with so few visitors.

Vocabulary
Magnifique: magnificent

JOURNAL D'UNE CONFINÉE - WEEK 4

April 6, 2020

The plane! The plane! For a minute, I feel like Tattoo in Fantasy Island (Youtube it if you’re too young to remember that TV show.) For over three weeks, I haven’t seen or heard a commercial airplane above my head; no contrail scratching our deep blue skies. Even the Rafales, those loud French fighter planes that zip by at low altitude above our woods toward their Toulouse base, have been missing in action.

So, the plane. Ironically, it’s parked in front of the old Payrignac train station that was decommissioned eighty years ago. It’s missing its wing. The white paint is flaking off. The cockpit and the tail are half-covered with pale green lichen. And it’s made of wood, like one of the carvings my grandfather made in the Seventies. It might even be that old.

Perched on its metal post, the plane is grounded, like all its aluminum friends, like all of us. I always had at least one active flight reservation on the books but 2020 is shaping up differently. Airlines have reduced their flights by 90%. Some airports, like Orly, are completely shut down. Many countries, including the two that matter the most to me, have made their borders almost impenetrable. We are expected to stay home. Eventually, we may be allowed to circulate within our country but international travel will have to wait a few months, or perhaps a year. That makes me antsy. When my father was ill, it gave me peace of mind to know that I could jump into a plane at a moment’s notice and be there for him. For those of us who have loved ones in other countries, the thought of not being able to travel at will is almost unbearable.

In Louis XVI’s diary, nothing happened on July 14, 1789. The journal is kept at the Archives Nationales.

April 7, 2020

Is it morning… is it Tuesday… or July… is it still 2020… where am I? Before the confinement, our outings and activities set the tempo of the day. On Monday, our mailman would bring the weekly food ads; now, Jérémie does his route only three times a week and the ads are delivered to our phones and computers. I used to drive Mom to the salle des fêtes on Wednesday so she could spend the afternoon with friends and play belote; of course, all group activities have been suspended indefinitely. On Saturday, a small group of French natives and local Brits would get together at a café for an informal chat and everybody would practice their language skills; the cafés have shut down, we all stay home, and I don’t get to “correct” anybody…

Rituals provide markers and keep us grounded. For the fourth week in a row, time seems to be standing still. Our lives are suspended and feel somewhat empty. “Rien” as Louis XVI wrote in his diary on the date of July 14, 1789. One might think that he, too, was somewhat “confined” in Versailles, without knowledge of the turmoil that was brewing in Paris that day. It turns out that he used his journal to record the result of the royal hunt: on July 14, the king’s party was unsuccessful and he didn’t bring back any game to the royal kitchen. Rien. Lucky Louis: at least, he got to leave the palace with his horse, his dogs, and his entourage; without a permission slip.

Even if nothing happened in my life today, I am very aware that my small universe does not reflect what is going on in the rest of the world: the morbid tallies in New York, Italy, Spain, and France continue to increase. We had been spared so far but, today, the regional newspaper La Dépèche du Midi reported the first Covid-19 fatality in the Lot. Ce n’est pas “rien”.

Vocabulary
La salle des fêtes: large activity room owned by the city
La belote: French card game
Rien: nothing
Ce n’est pas rien: it’s not nothing

Farming life continues…

April 10, 2020

I don’t claim to be an avid gardener but, as a dedicated cook, I like to have fresh culinary herbs on hand. Last year, I started a small jardin in front of my kitchen. It will never be a full-fledge potager like my grandfather’s: I will only focus on herbs and vegetables that I use often or have a hard time finding here. The thyme, rosemary, and chives are all doing well; my tarragon is a bit timid and could probably use another companion plant. Jardinerie-pépiniériste Gamm’Vert is now open in the morning and I picked some annuals: flat-leaf parsley and basil; oregano was not in stock yet.

Luckily, I was able to buy a few seed packets while in Eureka last month. I’ll try my hand at growing some cilantro, bok choi, baby watermelon, jalapeno peppers, and sweet corn. Although corn is a traditional crop in our area, it is intended to feed les bêtes. Most French people turn up their noses at corn. I guess I’m aiming to have a multicultural potager.

My garden is dwarfed by the real world of farming: a mere 200 yards away, large fields have been plowed and prepared to welcome new plants and seeds. The dirt looks rich and fertile. The automatic sprinkler rhythmically oscillates and shoots water in the air and on my windshield as I drive by. For most of us, food magically appears at the stores or in our plates; we give little thought to what it takes to feed a whole country. Just like garbage collectors, cleaning ladies, or delivery drivers, farmers are finally getting some well-deserved appreciation. Border closings are preventing migrant workers from Spain and other European countries to enter our country and serve as seasonal farmhands but I heard that 240,000 French men and women have volunteered to work in the fields instead of collecting unemployment. It’s quite a relief to know that my survival will not be completely dependent on my green thumb!

Vocabulary
Le jardin: garden
Le potager: vegetable garden
La jardinerie: garden center
Le pépiniériste: nursery

Easter dinner done right!

April 12, 2020

I’m a little too old to forage for Easter eggs. I had picked up a few bags of treats to have at the house: is one ever too old to enjoy chocolate? I knew we would not have to share them with anybody this year: an unforeseen perk of social distancing… With a couple of exceptions, I always spent Easter break at the farm when I was growing up. My cousins and I would accompany Grandma to Mass, giving Grandpa a generous hour to hide the coveted candies in the boxwood hedge and the vegetable garden. At the end of the service, anxious kids would quickly hike back home. While Grandma put the finishing touches to lunch, we’d dive into the bushes and lift lettuce leaves in search of hidden treasures.

Our take-out Easter meal from Delicatessens was superb. Detailed instructions were included to warm up the different elements of each dish. All that was left was assembly and plating, the extent of my chef duties today. I could get used to that kind of take-out: clearly, French restaurants are taking the concept a notch higher than their American counterparts.

The Duomo in Milan, as I saw it in September 2019

This unusual Easter concluded with a bitter-sweet return to Milan, courtesy of Andrea Bocelli’s concert at the Duomo. I couldn’t wait to see the cathedral again, six months after my last stay in Milan. It’s the third-largest church in Europe, more than twice the size of Notre-Dame-de-Paris. It’s a massive building although the spires, statues, and carvings give it a lighter, lacy look. And the marble, that beautiful pink Candoglia marble, is everywhere.  As the drone flew over the cathedral, unveiling a skyline dotted with red tile roofs, church towers, and skyscrapers, I could picture myself on the rooftop again, way above the expansive piazza below and the elegant Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, both teeming with people holding a camera or a gelato, or both. I remember thinking that, no matter the time of day or night, it was impossible to take a good shot of the Duomo without tourists. The contrast between now and then was as stark as Bocelli’s black tuxedo against a white buttress.

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JOURNAL D'UNE CONFINÉE - WEEK 3

March 30, 2020

I drive to town for my weekly grocery run and briefly stop in the post office parking lot. Even at this time of the year, before the tourist season starts, the restaurants and cafés on the tour de ville should be animated. All are shut down except Le Pot Occitan because it also serves as a tabac. See, liberty and the pursuit of happiness varies between countries and dictates what is deemed “essential business:” cigarette stores in France, gun shops in America.

My little town looks pretty and peaceful; a little bit sleepy, perhaps. A striking contrast with the gloomy images of New York, Paris, or another megalopolis now devoid of cars, bikes, and even the dreaded electric scooters. Humans are invisible, staying safe behind thick walls. It’s like a neutron bomb hit the cities, snuffing out life but preserving buildings, statues, and monuments. The photos are both disturbing and mesmerizing. I wonder how it would feel to stand on top of the Arc de Triomphe and gaze at an abandoned avenue des Champs-Elysées? To only hear my own footsteps resonating in the métro corridors. To sit alone at a café terrace and watch… nobody and nothing? Having Paris to myself would be both a dream and a nightmare.

Vocabulary
Le tour de ville: circular street around the center of town
Le tabac: tobacco shop

Confinement? I know a thing or two about that. My cousin’s drawing for April Fool’s Day.

April 1, 2020

No kidding! This is the strangest April Fool’s Day I’ve ever experienced. Nobody seems in the mood to be playing pranks. No paper fish slapped on the back of (unsuspecting?) parents. No fake hairy spider stuck on a lampshade. No Oreo cookies stuffed with toothpaste. Worse of all, no tiny chocolate fish candies to savor with my espresso.

Perhaps we collectively exhausted our witty ideas over the past two weeks. We’ve seen masks made with bras, or wine glasses, or hollowed orange halves (extra vitamin C!) A puzzle aficionado tried to “rebuild” a pig with two hundred packs of bacon. Some people disguised themselves as trash bags so they could discreetly “walk” on the streets longer than one hour per day. The internet has been full of improbable stories and funny memes. We had probably reached our quota of jokes by the time April 1st rolled in.

The visitor center at the prehistoric caves of Cougnac

April 3, 2020

I walked to the grottes préhistoriques of Cougnac today. I knew it would be a little further than my 1 km radius. Also, I would be out longer than 1 hour but the gendarmes don’t seem to patrol our small roads and trails. My parents had owned a small vacation home in the hamlet of Cougnac for twenty years: at that time, the caves were practically in our backyard. We would routinely take our dog on le chemin aux noisettes (as my sister dubbed it) that would lead to the limestone hill and the cave entrance.

There are many prehistoric caves in our area but most of them are no longer open to the public. Lascaux (the “real one” as there are two excellent replicas) closed in 1963 before I had the privilege of visiting the “Sistine Chapel” of cave art. Cougnac was actually discovered by our former neighbor. It’s smaller than Lascaux but still accessible to anyone who wants to admire drawings of mammoths or ibex in charcoal and red pigment.

In normal times, the caves would open tomorrow to coincide with Easter break. But these are not normal times and I was surprised to hear some noise as I approached the visitor center: a man was trimming bushes and raking leaves. Le jardinier was cleaning up the area as if he expected a convoy of visitors to show up the next day. It made me smile. People joke that French backyards are looking like mini versions of Versailles and le gazon is mowed so frequently that it rivals a Wimbledon court. I know my countrymen: I can assure you this aberration will not last. But professional gardeners are a different breed: whether the caves open this July or next July, it is imperative to keep on schedule. Time may have stopped for us but not for nature.

Vocabulary
La grotte préhistorique: prehistoric cave
Le chemin aux noisettes: hazelnut trail
Le jardinier: gardener
Le gazon: lawn

Game show host Nagui and his audience, before social distancing!

April 4, 2020

Many reporters brandish the word dystopia these days. While we are cooped up in our homes, le petit écran shows images of a world that’s both familiar and unrecognizable: lengthy shots of a pristine beach a Les Sables d’Olonne; TGV trains reconfigured to evacuate patients from Alsace to less saturated hospitals in the West; endless videos of Times Square, the Champs-Elysées, and San Marco Plaza all barren of cars and pedestrians. Clashing with our current living conditions, pre-taped game shows remind us of what normal life used to look like: a packed audience sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, host and contestants exchanging handshakes and bises, crew members sharing microphones and high-fives.

The show follows a predictable format and leads to its natural conclusion: the champion gets some money, the challenger is elated to win a Brittany Ferries cruise to Spain. Wait, what? I roll my eyes, fully aware that I’m witnessing a not-so-distant past when cruising and Spain both sounded like splendid ideas. Was it only two months ago? I still want to think that soon –very soon– we’re going to wake up from this bad dream. Once again, we’ll leave our footprints in the sand; we’ll board trains to visit family; we’ll join fresh batches of tourists in large cities. We’ll even complain about the crowds.

I take note of some hastily fine-tuned commercials. The supermarkets promise to help our farmers and sell only French produce. In a sheepish nod to the baking and snacking frenzy induced by the confinement, Comme J’aime now peddles their diet program as a way to “maintain” weight; losing a few kilos might be out of reach. Car manufacturers double down and continue to fill our minds with visions of escape, travel, and freedom. That’s what we miss the most right now and they know it.

Vocabulary
Le petit écran: the small screen; TV
La bise: kiss

JOURNAL D'UNE CONFINÉE - WEEK 2

March 23, 2020

Humans abhor uncertainty. Things were probably different for cavemen but modern man has become a bit too complacent, expecting trains to always run on time and toilet paper to be available at will. The Covid health crisis takes us into uncharted territory. As a news junkie, I observe how the pandemic is unfolding. I look for intelligent questioning to sift through the known knowns and the known unknowns. Science keeps me grounded.

Meanwhile, I also take comfort in the predictability of nature and, specifically, how I can always count on bulbs to signal the turn of the seasons: yellow narcissi in our woods, pink tulips in Maguy’s yard, or wild irises in front of the old pigsty. Bulbs are your friends; your unfair weather friends.

Old clay roof tiles

March 24, 2020

The Attestation de Déplacement Dérogatoire was updated today. According to the “new and improved” version, you can still go out of your house to buy essential supplies but outdoor exercise is limited to one hour per day; you must fill the form with the precise time when you leave your residence. Apparently, too many dogs complained of exhaustion after their humans used them as an excuse to walk or jog every two hours… During your sortie, you must remain within 1 kilometer from your house which guarantees you’ll become extremely familiar with your immediate surroundings. This photographer will have to sharpen her eyes and continue to focus on details: today, I give you Old roof tiles. Tomorrow, it could be Green grass, or Clear skies, or Mom’s fuzzy slippers. The possibilities are staggering.

Vocabulary
La sortie: outing

Fabric masks made by our neighbor Isabelle

March 25, 2020

In the old days, farming families here could not survive without their neighbors’ help. They aimed to be self-sufficient, thus favoring l’agriculture vivrière, but everybody would pitch in when it was time to harvest wheat, pick grapes, crack walnuts, or slaughter the pig. A schedule was established so that equipment and able bodies were pooled to work at each farm in succession. When the task was completed, everybody would gather around the table for a festive meal. In France, rien ne change…

There are still a few farmers in our village but the size of their farms has increased following l’exode rural after WWII and le remembrement in the Sixties. They all have their own farm machinery and they hire crop hands at harvest time when necessary. But la solidarité is not an empty word here: it just manifests itself differently nowadays. Some of our neighbors bring us fruits, vegetables, or flowers; others pick up medications at the pharmacy for those who can’t drive; everybody checks up on the elderly. Today, Isabelle and Sylvain dropped off some homemade masks for us and Mom. In fact, they sewed masks for the whole hamlet, about fifteen households. Isabelle even apologized that she didn’t have any fabric printed with motorcycles for Rick!

Vocabulary
L’agriculture vivrière: (f) multi-crop farming and animal husbandry to ensure a varied food supply
Rien ne change: nothing changes
L’exode rural: rural migration from the countryside to the cities
Le remembrement: consolidation of farming lands to improve the use of machinery
La solidarité: solidarity

A traditional stone house stands in a field of wild flowers

March 26, 2020

Our weather has been positively balmy; it makes my daily outings even more enjoyable. Like many people, I’m struck by the quietness of our environment. The number of cars on nearby D704 has been reduced to a trickle. A lone tractor occasionally reminds us that spring planting is around the corner.

The only ones who dare disturb the sound of silence are the birds, hundreds of them. I still hang my boules de graisse from the boxwood tree: sparrow, great tits, and my one robin are familiar sights and songs. Turtle doves and crows regularly fly over our fields. In the woods, the distinctive sounds of cuckoo birds, owls, and woodpeckers are easy to identify but other melodies remain mysterious to me. I’ve found several websites and YouTube tutorials to get more familiar with local birds. Armed with the opera glasses that my parents brought back from Kyiv in 1986 (our binoculars are still in a box somewhere in the garage,) perhaps I can pass for an ornithologist-in-training!

Today I spotted a buzzard standing at attention on top of a fence post. It was probably eyeing some field mouse for lunch but it took off when I approached. As I watched the majestic raptor unfold its large brown wings and soar into the blue sky, I once again felt a tinge of envy. If I could have a superpower, flying would be it.

Vocabulary
La boule de graisse: lit. ball of grease; a mixture of suet and seeds.

The Javits convention center in happier days

March 27, 2020

I watch in dismay as the Javits convention center in New York is being turned into a field hospital of 1000 beds. For a couple of decades, Javits was my twice-a-year playground. While running Joie de Vivre, I regularly flew to NYC to attend the Fancy Food Show, the NY NOW Gift Fair, and other trade shows there. Javits was my happy place where I would sample delicious food from all over the world, meet new suppliers, and joke with old friends. Javits was alive, vibrant, and colorful. Now, the show floor has morphed into a giant grid of 10’ x 10’ sterile cubicles, deserted, silent, expectant. The contrast is shocking. As the 2020 trade show season grinds to a halt, Javits is poised to perform a startling new mission this year: instead of embracing conventioneers and amplifying their laughter, it will cradle patients and soothe their anguish. Normality has left the building.

Wild boars were here!

March 28, 2020

The pandemic seems to have a positive effect on the environment: with less human activity and fewer cars on the roads, air pollution is decreasing. And since people are staying home, or should be, wild animals are enlarging their territories: dolphins swim in the Venice canals, coyotes roam the streets of San Francisco, ducks waddle near la Comédie Française in Paris (sorry, guys: the theater is closed.)

In related news, our wild boars are back! Technically, they don’t “belong” to us. They don’t even live in our woods but they obviously enjoy our quiet area. They already paid us a visit last Fall. Lily loves to hunt but her focus is le petit gibier: bugs, mice, lizards, and the occasional hedgehog (ouch.) Les sangliers always leave tell-tale signs of their frolicking: they dig the ground with their nose and feet, looking for roots and worms, leaving trenches that dull the blades on Rick’s mower. They only come out at night but have become quite bold: I heard them grunt behind me one December evening as I was leaving Mom’s house! I wrote a letter to City Hall so they would inform the local hunters. I heard packs of dogs and rifle shots the following weekend. I also inherited a bag of meat that I quickly prepared as “médaillons de sanglier, sauce aux mûres.” It was yummy. But hunting season will be over in just a few days and group hunting would not be allowed anyway. I suspect that close encounters with wild boars will become part of our new normal.

Vocabulary
Le petit gibier: small game
Le sanglier: wild boar
La sauce aux mûres: blackberry sauce

Green asparagus and morels in puff pastry; 7 hour lamb shoulder with garlic, honey, and thyme; sphere of crispy risotto with lemon confit center and artichoke cream; strawberry cake.

March 29, 2020

For the past thirty years, I’ve appropriated Easter as “my” holiday. More by necessity than choice: handling Thanksgiving or Christmas was not an option because of my crazy work schedule in the Fall. Besides, the French and Thanksgiving are not exactly a match made in heaven.

I usually enjoy composing my Easter menu but it’s hard to muster some excitement this year since we all need to stay in our respective homes and I won’t be playing hostess. I had resigned myself to preparing an Easter dinner anyway and delivering the plateaux repas to family members, cafeteria-style. And then, I received an email from my favorite local restaurant; their Easter menu sounded lovely. Of course, the restaurant itself is closed: they’re only offering take-out. I am sure they have a hard time paying their bills. After consulting with the rest of the family, we decided we should show our support to a small local business and help them weather the storm. On Easter Sunday, chef Sylvaine will leave her frog coat in the closet. That will leave me ample time to focus on my second job: sommelier…

Vocabulary
Le plateau repas: meal tray

JOURNAL D'UNE CONFINÉE - WEEK 1

March 17, 2020

Ah, to be a dog, immune to COVID-19 and blissfully unaware of what’s happening in the world. After our retour précipité from California, we picked up Lily at my sister’s house. We’re back home by noon to, well, stay home. The confinement is now in effect. I take inventory of what I have in the freezer and the pantry; I notice the empty fridge didn’t spontaneously replenish itself while we were away. Lily gets reacquainted with her surroundings after her two-week vacation with her canine cousins: there is a lot of sniffing around and some napping in her favorite armchair. She has no reason to worry: kibble magically appears in her bowl twice a day. The dog is all set. If things get too dire for her humans, they’ll have to crack open some homemade cans of foie gras. The horror!

Vocabulary
Le retour précipité: hasty return

Hyacinths in bloom in front of Mom’s house

March 18, 2020

My confinement is better than yours. If the virus is a great equalizer, the stay-at-home experience is not. Some people have to spend their days in tiny apartments; we are lucky to live in a spacious house à la campagne surrounded by fields and wooded areas. Rick is back in tractor mode: the weeds grow fast at this time of the year. I check up on Mom at least twice a day but refrain from entering her home. No hugs, no kisses. We stay six feet apart and I wear disposable gloves when I bring her food. Nurses still come to her house morning and evening but her aide à domicile can no longer fulfill her schedule: she also watches over the children of the Gourdon medical personnel and is not supposed to work for elderly people. Meanwhile, Mother Nature pays no attention to the turmoil: wildflowers are blooming all over the fields.

Vocabulary
A la campagne: in the countryside
L’aide à domicile: (f.) home care assistant

Very few shoppers at the local supermarket. Still plenty of bread and fresh flowers.

March 19, 2020

I ask Mom to give me her grocery list. She says she really doesn’t need anything: she has three bottles of sparkling water, a camembert, one sous-vide dinner, and a box of frozen fish sticks. Let’s put this woman in charge of disaster preparedness, shall we? I fill out a permission slip and drive to town for supplies. At the roundabout, I’m stopped by a gendarme who asks why I am out of my house. To go to the supermarket. “I hope you’re not just picking up a baguette and sliced ham,” she says as she waves me through. Most of the shops are closed and the streets are empty. At Intermarché, I don a mask and a pair of gloves before pushing my cart into the store. The shelves are well-stocked; plenty of toilet paper. I check off everything on my list except for my favorite brand of butter. I should have enough supplies for a week. I tend to be an impulsive cook and usually pick up food every other day depending on my inspiration. The confinement is forcing me to be a methodical meal planner. It’s a new exercise and, at this point, I’m mildly amused by the novelty. I’m even making chicken stock from scratch!

The pear tree is in bloom

March 20, 2020

This spring has been milder than usual and the trees seem to visibly change day by day: buds, blossoms, and tender green leaves appear as in a time-lapse video. The pear tree is gorgeous and covered with white flowers. I’m making a mental note that I’ll surely need to thin the fruits in a month or two. A memory rushes in: a vision of my grandmother’s poire prisonnière. I’m thinking I should make my own. I’ll have to find a pretty carafe, attach it to the tree, slide the neck over a small pear, and let the fruit grow inside the glass. When the fruit is ripe, cut the stem, remove the bottle with the pear inside, and fill it with some alcool de fruit. Maybe I’ll call it my poire confinée, année 2020.

Vocabulary
La poire prisonnière: captive pear
L’alcool de fruit: (m.) clear fruit alcohol
La poire confinée: confined pear

Illustrator Battì Manfruelli from Corsica has perfect take on how many people are feeling right now.

March 21, 2020

My cousins and I started a WhatsApp group a year and a half ago. We’re scattered along a Paris-Toulouse axis but usually manage to see each other throughout the year. Getting everybody together at the same time is a challenge but I was lucky to have them at the house for last year’s Christmas dinner. The group has been active this week; we’re checking up on each other and posting humorous pictures and memes about Le Confinement. On Day 5, this thing is still fairly new and “manageable.” Some of us are retired, some are en télétravail, some are raising toddlers while trying to work from home… I wonder: how long will it take before we feel like caged birds?

Vocabulary
En télétravail: working remotely from home

Several religious services are broadcast on the France2 channel every Sunday morning. Catholic mass is usually filmed in churches and cathedrals, in France or other francophone countries.

March 22, 2020

I’m bringing Mom some of my homemade chicken soup. As I walk on her porch by the living room windows, I can hear her TV set blaring a religious hymn: if it’s Sunday, it must be Mass. I drop off her food on the outdoor table and we spend ten minutes chatting, she inside, me outside. She plans to have lunch, take a nap, and watch Michel Drucker’s TV show. All in all, an ordinary Sunday for her. Back at home, I catch the last five minutes of “Le Jour du Seigneur” and notice that, today, Mass is not taking place inside a spectacular cathedral but is broadcast from a TV studio in the 13th arrondissement: four priests respecting la distanciation sociale, a simple wood table doubling for an improvised altar, a giant screen showing rows of empty pews. Not an ordinary Sunday for them. At noon sharp, I hear the bells of the church in Payrignac. They sound louder than usual today.

Vocabulary
La distanciation sociale: social distancing

LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONA

What a difference a week makes. I was in Eureka enjoying elaborate Victorian mansions, colorful street art, and a superlative dinner prepared by the talented executive chef at the Carter House, a young lady I first met when she was a mere ten years old. She says that watching me prepare French dinners at home inspired her to choose that profession! My heart is full.

Check-in counters at SFO

While I was combing spectacular Agate beach on Thursday, it was clear that we would have to cut our trip short: we were scheduled to fly back to France on March 24 but, with the new restrictions placed on travelers from Europe to the US, it was hard to imagine that airlines would not drastically cut back their destinations and frequencies.

TSA at San Francisco airport: no need for Fast Track today!

By the time I got back to Modesto on Friday evening, I had played several scenarios in my mind but they all hinged on how United Airlines would handle our non-changeable tickets. I called the customer service line and was kept on hold for less than ten minutes; another ten minutes and a very efficient representative had rebooked us on the Saturday SFO-CDG flight. No hassle, no fee, no extra money; grateful for United. We would miss a family gathering on Sunday but I felt we needed to return home ASAP and not take the chance to be stuck abroad for several weeks.

Nice to see those tails!

The sigh of San Francisco airport was eery, Whole banks of check-in counters were closed; we approached one agent without waiting a single minute. The empty lines at TSA only reinforced the feeling that we were walking through a ville fantôme.

Pick your seat at the UA lounge

We had allowed extra time to spend at the airport in case there were some sanitary controls before boarding but they were none. We spent an hour at the United lounge which is usually crowded with passengers flying to Asia and Europe. Empty seats everywhere, no food buffet, wrapped plates of salad veggies and cheese on a rolling cart, a box of disposable gloves by the wine bottles… Yep, it felt different.

All food at the lounge was wrapped

At Gate 97, it was very easy to practice distanciation sociale and the agent dismissed formality by calling Groups 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 to board simultaneously. We briefly engaged with the American couple in front of us: although museums were closed and their tours had been canceled, they were still ready to go and visit Paris on their own. When is your flight back, I asked? In ten days; supposedly; we’ll see how things develop.

I took this photo after the doors closed. Pick a row, or two; or three!

We settled in the plane very quickly and I was hoping we could depart earlier than our 3:25 pm scheduled departure. Macron had announced France would be on lockdown at midnight (3 pm here) and I thought it would be safer to be in the air before that time. Sure enough, the announcement came in at 3:10 pm: the gate agent was trying to figure out whether we could fly out or not.

It would have been so easy to score an upgrade. Not free, but easy…

The crew had already agreed to work this flight even though they were told they would not be allowed to disembark on arrival: they would need to stay aboard until the plane turned back to the US. Non-French citizens or permanent residents of France had to deplane as they would be refused entry on French soil. The American couple we had talked to earlier, and a few more passengers, quickly exited the plane. We waited a little longer while the corresponding luggage was removed from the cargo hold. I was sooo relieved that Rick had finally gotten his residency card ten days before we left! When we pushed back from the gate, there was a grand total of 27 passengers in our 787: that is the closest I’ve ever been to flying in a private jet.

Out of luck if you were planning to purchase discounted alcohol or tobacco products

Take a rain check for that café experience. All bars, restaurants, and cafés in France are closed.

The flight itself was uneventful and so was our arrival at CDG1. No sanitary control there either. Most shops in the terminal were closed, except for the Relay newsstand and, oddly enough, Ladurée. I guess we could all use a box of tasty macarons to weather what’s ahead. I had decided not to take the train back to Gourdon: in a fluid situation, many reservations were being canceled and the stations, unlike the airports, looked like zoos: expecting severe restrictions on domestic travels and looming confinement measures, many Parisians were making a quick exit to the province. We spent Sunday night at a hotel by the airport, picked up our rental car on Monday morning, and drove home.

CitizenM at CDG airport: our home for the night.

On Monday night, Macron announced that the French population would stay in confinement the following day at noon. Any travel would require an Attestation de déplacement dérogatoire that you must have on your person if you must leave your residence to go to the pharmacy, get food, assist an at-risk person (i.e. elderly or vulnerable people living alone,) go to work (if your job is “essential”,) exercise outdoor or take your dog out for a walk. On Tuesday morning, we made a quick trip to my sister’s house to pick up Lily so that she, too, could be confined on her beloved home turf. We were back at the house at 11:57 am, just in time to join 65 million countrymen for what is shaping up to be our fiercest war since WWII.

The permission slip to go out of your residence while we are confined

All of us will be impacted by Covid-19, wherever we live. Le confinement will be easier for those of us who live in rural areas and have more space around them. Rick will continue to run the tractor, mow down the weeds, clear the woods… Some of his home improvement projects will take a back seat because Bricomarché is closed and he can’t get supplies. As for me, I’ll be looking after my mother: she lives only 30 yards away but I’m not supposed to go inside her house. I’ll tend to the garden and start the vegetable seeds I picked up in Eureka. I’ll bake cookies and leave them at my aunt’s door across the road. And I’ll continue to blog. In fact, I plan to go through my photo files and share with you my stories about the places I love. Escapism is a good way to cope in times like these. And those of us who love to travel always dream of our next destination.

Be safe. Be well. Be dreaming.

Yes, Paris loves you and will be waiting for you when the skies clear up.

Vocabulary
La ville fantôme: ghost town
La distanciation sociale: social distancing
La province: any area of France outside of the greater Paris
L’Attestation de déplacement dérogatoire (f): permission slip to travel
Le confinement: lockdown, shelter in place