LA MAISON DES CANAUX

What a difference a year makes. On May 24, 2018, I was making my final walk through the empty house I had called home for twenty-seven years. Exactly a year prior, while spending a few leisurely days in Paris, I was meandering through a fully furnished home filled with people, and life, and coffee, and food; a home open to everyone.

Entrez! C'est ouvert...

That little house at the northeastern corner of the Bassin de la Villette (19th arr.) was built in the early 1800s and served as the home for the canal manager. After being renovated in 2014, it opened to the public as a “coffice,” a convivial place where people can meet, work, or enjoy a cup of coffee. 

At work in the kitchen

While the architects respected the original structure and volumes, the interior design reflects a modern, colorful, and eclectic approach. Patrons bring their laptops and settle into their favorite spot to work for a few hours, or the whole day: a table en terrace, a comfy couch, a canopy bed, or a bathtub: no room is off-limits. Think of it as Starbucks with personality…

At work in the dining room

Let's take a look upstairs, shall we?

At work in the bedroom

At work in the bathtub. Best view of the house?

La Maison des Canaux also serves as a venue for art exhibits, conferences, concerts, yoga classes, cooking workshops, etc. 

The view from the terrace

On a beautiful day, having lunch on the front terrace offers serene views of the water and the boats: an inspiration for some, a distraction for others. It’s a peaceful spot, especially on a weekday, when the crowds are sparse; the perfect place for a break while exploring the waterways of the 19th arrondissement.

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

ROGER L'ANTIQUAIRE

Three years ago, after checking out the latest trends at the Colette concept store in the 1st arrondissement, I walked toward Palais Royal and found myself in front of église Saint Roch. Throngs of teenagers were sitting on the steps, enjoying a sunny day while chatting and eating Japanese fast food. I turned into rue Saint Roch and couldn’t miss the smallest antique shop in Paris. I had heard of Rarissime but never visited before. It seemed to be carved inside the church. 

Rarissime. A rare find indeed.

It was closed for lunch. So, I walked to rue Ste-Anne, devoured a very satisfying yuzu éclair at Aki Boulanger and returned to Rarissime a while later.

Antique decanters and, perhaps, a Quimper bowl.

As I walked in I couldn’t believe how tiny this place was: the depth of the shop from the façade couldn’t be more than ten feet. Apparently, it used to be a place where people would buy religious trinkets. Roger rented the space from the city of Paris and agreed to renovate the shop.

The stone staircase!

He even built an impressive stone spiral staircase: the steps above the second level served as display areas for Roger’s finds. He told me that he shopped at vide-greniers and estate sales; he stored his treasures at his home outside of Paris. 

Second floor at Rarissime

Roger’s selection looked eclectic enough until a gentleman stopped by to pick up a carton of six eggs. Roger said he brought them from his village every week and he had many regular customers. Old objects and fresh eggs: an unusual combination to be sure. I perused a whole folder of vintage photographs and told Roger I would visit him again on a future trip. When I returned eighteen months later, the shop was fermée and the windows were empty. I inquired about Roger at the hotel across the street and was told by the receptionist that he had finally retired to his village. It made me happy, and sad at the same time.

Empty windows. Where is Roger?

Last September, I headed out to église Saint Roch again: I just had to find out whether the teeny, tiny store had welcomed a new tenant and it had. It’s now the home of Brigitte Tanaka, a collaboration between a French and a Japanese designer. 

Brigitte Tanaka: French and Japanese, old and contemporary.

It was closed for lunch. So, we walked to rue Ste-Anne. I’ll miss Roger.

Farewell, Roger!

Vocabulary
L’église: church
Le vide-grenier: garage sale
Fermé: closed

PARIS SOUS LA PLUIE

I woke up this morning to the sound of pouring rain, a welcome sound since California has been parched for too many months. I was scheduled to head out to the Bay Area for a trade show but the prospect of driving on wet roads today made me cringe for some odd reason. My mind was flooded with memories of hydroplaning on my way to San Francisco some fifteen years ago: the car spun 180º and I found myself facing incoming traffic, in the fast lane of the freeway. Not the most perfect moment, if you ask me.

Square des Peupliers in the 13th arrondissement

I decided to follow my gut and postponed my trip, which turned out to be an excellent decision: I later found out an eight-vehicle wreck blocked all lanes of the freeway and I would have been sitting in my car for a long time, with no exit path.  Instead, I lingered sous la couette for an extra half hour, listening to the gushing wind and the raindrops hitting the bedroom window. 

Rue des Iris at the Cité Florale, 13th arrondissement

Rain has become somewhat of an oddity for me; it’s the privilege of living in California. All bets are off when I go back to France: I’ve routinely purchased (and disposed of) many parapluies during my trips to Paris. It will ring a bell for those of you who have read my book!

Not a good day for the flea market at place d'Aligre in the 12th arrondissement!

February, May, July, October: for several years in a row, I just couldn’t get a break and I was getting soaked on every trip. It almost felt like payback for purging my wardrobe of manteaux and imperméables.

The pastel houses on rue Crémieux, a bit muted on a rainy day

For a photographer, rain can be a friend: even lighting, no harsh shadows, interesting reflections.

Rue Charles Baudelaire near square Trousseau in the 12th arrondissement. Sometimes, the umbrella gets in the way!

On the other hand, juggling camera and umbrella presents some challenges.

Rue Vieille-du-Temple in the 3rd arrondissement. Love the colorful umbrellas!

Sometimes, the best course of action is to find shelter in a café and rester au sec. 

Salon de thé Carette on place du Trocadéro, 16th arrondissement

Enjoy an espresso or a glass of wine. 

The slate roof of the Musée national d'Histoire naturelle, across from Gare d'Austerlitz

Or hit a museum. 

La Canopée in the 1st arrondissement. The latest addition to the Halles district.

Or check out the unusual gutter system of the Canopée des Halles. 

A Parisian dog practicing his people-watching skills

Or sit en terrasse, under the gas heaters, and watch the world go by. 

Café Marguerite on quai de Gesvres. On a clear day, the bouquinistes green stalls would be open.

Rain or shine, it’s still Paris after all.

Vocabulary

Sous la pluie: under the rain
Sous la couette: under the duvet
Le parapluie: umbrella
Le manteau: coat
L’imperméable (masc.): raincoat
Rester au sec: to stay dry
En terrace: at the terrace
Les bouquinistes: used books sellers on the quais of the Seine

IN LIVING COLOR

It’s fair to assume that many of you have gazed at the Saint-Germain-des-Prés church in Paris: after all, it stands right in front of Les Deux Magots, one of the famous Left Bank cafés where you can channel Jean-Paul Sartre while sipping an expensive espresso.

Inside St-Germain-des-Prés in 1998

If you ever ventured inside the church –the oldest one in Paris– you must have noticed how dark it is and how the frescoes on the walls disappear under the grime of time and the soot from burning wax. Sainte Rita, the patron saint of lost causes, gets her fair share of candles.

The restored choir on the left; more work to be done in the nave on the right

Before a tasty lunch at Le Pied de Fouet last October, my friend Raegan and I walked into Saint-Germain. We could hardly believe the transformation that was taking place. It is undergoing an extensive renovation to bring back the frescoes, columns, and ceilings to their original glory. And how glorious they are! The contrast between the restored choir and the soon-to-be cleaned up nave is stupefying. The choir is now bright and cheerful; the deep blue ceiling peppered with stars strongly resembles the “sky” at the Sainte-Chapelle. The restoration work will continue through 2021; if you’re in the area, you should definitely check it out so you can do your own before-and-after comparison. 

In a few short years, these frescoes will reveal their original colors

As we walked away, I was reminded of another church we had visited together: Convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie in Milan, in 1998, when The Last Supper was getting its own beauty treatment. We arrived a mere fifteen minutes before closing time and the refectory was almost deserted. About half of Da Vinci’s masterpiece had been restored and seemed to be unveiling its vivid colors just for us. Magical.

March 2021 update

While strolling in the Latin Quarter last week, I peeked into the Saint-Germain-des Prés again; it was my first opportunity to check the completed restoration. The bright stained-glass windows, vivid colors, and gold accents bring extraordinary luminosity to the interior of the church. An absolute must-see!

The whole nave has been restored. This is a view toward the organ.

Stunning light projection

CITY OF THE DEAD

Paris has the Champs-Elysées; Arles has the Alyscamps. In the Provençal language, Alyscamps means the Elysian Fields and refers to the entire necropolis that was developed along the via Aurelia. The road started in Rome and followed the Mediterranean coast all the way to Arles.

Alley of the dead!

Roman cities did not allow burials within the city limits. Roads immediately outside of the city were often lined with tombs and mausoleums. The Alyscamps in Arles are located just a bit south of the old city gates and the alley is dotted with sarcophagi.

Romanesque arch of Saint-Cézaire church

As Christianity gradually took over Roman theology, the site continued to be used for burials and the Saint-Cézaire church was built in the 11th century. Its Romanesque arch still stands at the entrance, at the western side; chapel Saint-Accurse was built next to it in 1520. 

Saint-Accurse chapel (1520)

Alley to Saint-Honorat church

Saint-Honorat church was built in the 12th century, on the western side.

Entrance to Saint-Honorat church. Check out the grotesque at top right. Gargoyles have waterspouts, grotesques do not.

Carved sarcophagus inside Saint-Honorat

The necropolis was looted during the Renaissance and pillaged again in the 19th century when sarcophagi were appropriated by farmers to be used as troughs for animals. But the most beautiful examples were preserved and are on view at the Musée Arles Antiques.

Courtyard at Saint-Honorat

We visited the Alyscamps shortly after opening hour and almost had the place to ourselves. The courtyard of Saint-Honorat was a bit spooky with its grotesque carvings, stark walls, tall skinny trees, and birds nesting between the stones. Even in daylight, the atmosphere of the Alyscamps was quite mysterious and yet serene. No wonder Vincent van Gogh was inspired by that location when he sojourned in Arles. But that’s another blog post…

LOVE IS IN THE AIR

In this area of Paris, love (or lust) used to be in the street. The mere mention of Pigalle conjures up images of the Moulin Rouge, sex shops, and adult theaters. While boulevard de Clichy at night still highlights the raunchy nature of the red-light district, things change dramatically when you venture a couple of streets away. South Pigalle has become a quiet corner of Paris and a lieu branché: the once racy area is now peppered with upscale coffee joints, fashion boutiques, and fantastic bakeries. As SoPi continues to get the gentrification treatment, several maisons closes from a century ago have been transformed into hip hotels. Rick and I visited Hotel Amour last May: we didn’t need accommodations but he was hungry and I thought it would be lovely to have lunch in their luxurious garden. Of course, the place was packed but we got a table in the cozy lobby/restaurant. I had better luck last month when I returned with my friend Raegan on a late afternoon. Oh, wait: the experience was so dreamy that we had to go back a second time.  You will find the hotel/bar/restaurant at 8 rue de Navarin. You can’t miss it: just look for the pink neon sign Amour, up in the air.

Vocabulary
Le lieu branché: hip location
La maison close: brothel (the shutters on those houses were closed so that children and passersby could not see what was going on inside)   

A luxurious garden, filled with lush greenery, under a glass roof. Very popular for brunch. Peaceful in the early evening for a before dinner drink.

The main dining room is cosy and decorated with books and vintage finds.

A large selection of stunning black and white photos illustrate the neighborhood's provocative past.

Stairs down to the bathroom...

Vintage aqua tiles in the vaulted bathroom.

Table football to kill time while you wait!

A nice crisp Sancerre for me. I brought back a set of six glasses in my suitcase. Amour is now in Modesto, too!

NIGHTTIME IN CARCASSONNE

I had visited Carcassonne a few times before but always during the day. This time, I booked a hotel room inside La Cité to experience the medieval fortified city at night, when lights and shadows dance on the massive stone walls. Since cars are not allowed within the walls of the old city, we had to leave our rental in a parking lot and trek uphill to the hotel. Let’s just say that pulling wheeled luggage on narrow alleys “paved” with protruding galets makes for a challenging and noisy experience… But what a reward! On an October night, we were almost alone while circling the city between the two walls of fortifications. Here are a few pictures to share so you can imagine what an atmospheric experience it was.

Vocabulary
Le galet: river rock

Porte Narbonnaise, the main entrance

Lices Hautes, in between the two fortified walls

Between the two walls, looking toward the Château Comtal

Shadow of the exterior wall projected onto the interior one

Peeking into Porte Saint Nazaire

Porte d'Aube. This entrance has been featured in many movies, including the 1991 film Robin Hood, directed by Kevin Reynolds.

LA FETE A CHATOU

There were three good reasons to head out to Chatou this week. Number one: I had never been there. Number two: it was the 95th Antiques and Hams Fair. Number three: it was taking place on the Ile des Impressionnistes. Art, food, and junk: the ultimate combination!

Renoir's Déjeuner des Canotiers

The island is located on the Seine, about twenty minutes west of Paris and is easily reached via the RER. During the mid-1800s, it became a very popular weekend destination for Parisians who were looking for cheap booze (alcohol was more heavily taxed within Paris,) dancing at the guinguettes, and nautical activities: boating and swimming were favorite pastimes. It was an irresistible draw for artists such as Guy de Maupassant and Gustave Caillebotte. Auguste Renoir was a regular at Maison Fournaise –a restaurant and guinguette– where he painted some of his most famous toiles: Les Canotiers à Chatou and Le Déjeûner des Rameurs . Maison Fournaise still exists nowadays as a restaurant and a museum.

Vous êtes arrivé à bon porc (pun...)

Since medieval times, Chatou had been the location for a large Foire aux Jambons. Pigs had to be the most valuable farm animals in the old days: they are not finicky eaters and, as the saying goes, “Tout est bon dans le cochon.” Indeed, pork butchers still cut and process every part of the pig and a lot of preparations are cured: people could store meat, non-refrigerated, for weeks or months. Even modest families would keep a ham at home.

Junk and Ham Fair in Chatou

Separately from Chatou, la Foire à la Ferraille had been taking place on boulevard Richard-Lenoir in Paris since 1869. An ancestor to our vide-greniers, it provided Parisians with the opportunity to buy and sell scrap metal, everyday objects, junk of all kinds, and more pricey antiques. But la Foire à la Ferraille was ordered to move out of Paris in 1970; it relocated in Chatou to run at the same time as la Foire aux Jambons. I imagine the Ham people welcomed the Junk people with open arms: not too many Parisians can keep a whole Bayonne ham in their très petite cuisine. 

Boutons

Moules à chocolat et tampons

Surgery, anyone?

Moulins à café et fers à repasser

Mannequins

It turns out that la Foire de Chatou is the largest brocante in France, and possibly Europe, with more than 500 exhibitors. There truly is something for everyone from expensive armoires to vintage postcards. I was really struck by the variety of goods. Some displays are focused and neatly arranged; others require you to dig through boxes and baskets to unearth your treasures.

Jambons!

Wines from Burgundy!

Oysters!

My braised ham.

Of course, the old porcine origins are not forgotten: the food aisle is lined with pop-up restaurants and vendors who offer a vast array of regional specialties and adult beverages. I must say my braised ham with sauce Madère was succulent. 

Le toutou est très fatigué

La Fête de Chatou is held twice a year, in October and March, and it runs for 10 days. If at all possible, visit on a weekday for a more relaxing experience. If you are an avid chineur, plan on spending the whole day. If not, set aside some time to enjoy the artist trail along the river and walk in Renoir’s footsteps.

Vocabulary

La guinguette: a drinking and dancing establishment often located on the banks of the Seine or Marne
La toile: canevas
Le canotier: boater
Le rameur: rower
Le jambon: ham
Tout est bon dans le cochon: everything is good in the pig
La ferraille: scrap metal, junk
Le vide-grenier: like a garage sale
Une très petite cuisine: a very tiny kitchen
La brocante: flea market
La sauce Madère: sauce made with Madeira wine
Le chineur (la chineuse): bargain hunter, collector, a regular at flea markets

THE OTHER CITY OF LIGHT(S)

Like all Americans, I’ve had New York on my mind this week. I’m sure most of us remember precisely where we were and what we were doing when the Twin Towers collapsed. Incredulity led to horror. Then, a profound sadness. At first, the scope of the tragedy played like a disaster movie out of Hollywood but the individual stories covered on TV and in newspapers made that moment personal, and real. For me, there were no Six Degrees of Separation but only two when I found out a friend had lost his brother-in-law in one of the towers. Arnaud was at a trade show in Las Vegas, immediately got a rental car, and drove to New York to be with his sister and her young children.

New York is a tough city, in more ways than one, and it took me a while to warm up to the Big Apple. It was a passage obligé at the end of my first trip to the US in 1977: we would be flying back from JFK. We so looked forward to experiencing New York: the Empire State building, the Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Time Square, and Broadway for electronic purchases. At that time, the World Trade Center included the two tallest buildings in the world so, naturellement, we took the speedy elevator in the South Tower to the observation desk. What an incredible view! I could really feel the air movement at a height of 1350 feet and I kept wondering how funambulist Philippe Petit ever spent forty-five minutes tight-rope walking between the towers, a quarter mile above the ground. Over the following three days, we hit all the landmarks and we were exhausted. The “verticality” of New York was too oppressive: we drove up to rural Connecticut.

After 9/11/01, I felt an obligation to help NYC rebuild: instead of flying once a year for my major trade show, I made three visits. To this day, I still fly to New York at least twice a year. Coming from California, I usually land at night. I always try to book a window seat on the right side of the plane on my way to JFK: we fly over Manhattan, usually just across Central Park, and I get to see the lights of the city: it’s a 2-minute magical moment. For a few years, the southwestern tip of the island was noticeably dark, a somber reminder of the lives and lights that had been snuffed out at the World Trade Center. On this more recent picture, you can see the beacon of the newest, tallest building in Manhattan, the Freedom Tower. Freedom. Hope. Peace, perhaps. It always looks peaceful from up high.

Vocabulary
Le passage obligé: lit. obligatory venue, a must-see
Naturellement: lit. naturally, of course.