75 YEARS

The leading stories on French news last week were all about the celebration of a momentous event in world history: the 75th anniversary of D-Day, the Normandy landing that ushered the end of WWII.

La maison Lafon played its part during WWII

Queen Elizabeth II and heads of states gathered to commemorate June 6, 1944 with all the pomp and circumstance that’s appropriate for such an event. French TV broadcast documentaries detailing the preparation, unfolding, and aftermath of that pivotal day, the carnage on French beaches, the ultimate sacrifice paid by thousands of young soldiers in one single day.

Three of the family houses were built with stones from this quarry

When statistics are mindboggling, I tend to focus on something more relatable. Individual stories that capture the psyche of the moment. Personal endeavors that highlight fear and courage, uncertainty and hope, excitement and dread. I’ve never had to put my own life on the line so I won’t pretend to even have an inkling of the kind of emotions that might rush through one’s mind. But reading about Tom Rice, the 97-year-old US paratrooper who jumped out of a C-47 transport plane and landed pretty close to the very same spot he hit seventy-five years ago, brought a grin to my face and some tears to my eyes. I can only imagine the significance of both these jumps for him.

Stones discarded from the old quarry

So what does D-Day mean to me and my little corner of southwestern France? In the wee hours of June 6, in all rural areas of France, a multitude of French men grabbed whatever weapons they could find and regrouped in le maquis. The 2nd DB Das Reich was based in Montauban; on June 8, a long convoy of tanks, trucks, and German troops left the city and headed to Normandy. In Cahors, they split in three different directions. The 1st battalion Der Führer drove through Gourdon and continued on D704 toward Sarlat.

La maison Lafon is barely seen through the trees above Départementale 704

My great-grandparents’ farm was located next to D704, 4 km north of Gourdon. One of the houses on the property –la maison Lafon, named after its builder– sat on the flank of a high cliff. The location had been chosen due to its close proximity to a stone quarry, one of my playgrounds when I was growing up. The house offers a vantage point on the curvy road. It was unoccupied at the time and served as an occasional meeting place for a small group of local maquisards. On the morning of June 8, they gathered to improvise a way to stop (or at least slow down) the column of Germans. They armed themselves with a few hunting rifles. My uncle René –age 18– had joined the group that day and was outfitted with a pistolet; he had never fired a handgun before. The plan was to fell a tree, drag it across the road, and shoot at the Germans.

Cécile’s house and maison Lafon nestled within the trees

Word about Das Reich retaliation against civilians was spreading fast. My great-aunt Cécile had heard how massive the column was; she figured that a tree trunk and a handful of “kids” with hunting rifles (and one gun) would be no match for the German tanks that led the move. As a young bride, she had lost her husband in the very first weeks of WWI and her only son had been wounded during the current war. René had spent the first five years of his life with her; the other youths were sons of friends and neighbors. In this particular case, she felt the strike would be pointless and inevitably lead to a massacre. She persuaded them to abandon their hasty plan and to join a more organized group. It was still early morning when the battalion of loud tanks and trucks moved past the house and Cécile’s anxious eyes. Fifteen minutes later, five miles up the road, five maquisards and five civilians were shot to death while trying to slow down the battalion on the Groléjac bridge. Two days later, 642 inhabitants were slaughtered at Oradour-sur-Glane and their village destroyed.

Entrance to the cellar

La maison Lafon was inexorably linked to René. When my grandparents split up the property between their four children, he inherited that house and the land around it. In the early 70s, after spending most of his working years in the greater Paris area, he returned to his roots with his family and significantly remodeled the house. The original structure comprised four parts: la cave at the lower level, a real wine cellar that always held about twenty oak barriques; at the second level, a small bedroom and a great room that included a fireplace, a stone sink, and a trap door to dump grapes into the concrete cuve below; a large attic; an open terrace to the southwest. During the renovation, the terrace was enclosed and walls were built up to the attic level; the attic itself was turned into three bedrooms; the main floor now includes two large rooms, a staircase, a kitchen, and a bathroom; the cellar continued to house wine barrels until 1977. The musty smell still permeates its walls today.

The view from the new terrace: a change from looking at the main road!

Rick and I recently moved into la maison Lafon, which now belongs to my cousin. After a year and a half in a retirement home, Mom decided to return to her own house and we wanted her to enjoy all her space. We “think” our house will be ready for us at the end of June. In the meantime, I’ve settled at René’s old desk, in an office that exactly occupies the location of the former terrace. The French doors and balcony give me a plunging view of D704, albeit through the thick lush trees that have grown between the road and the house. Seventy-five years ago, my young and foolish uncle was watching that same road, holding a pistol in his hand, thinking he might have a chance to become a hero.

I’m only holding a pencil.

P.S. My grandmother turned the gun over to the gendarmerie after the war.

You might also like Cent Ans and This Old House

Lily sitting at René’s old desk and watching the action through the French doors.

Vocabulary
Le maquis: shrubland; in this context, it also refers to résistance guerilla bands that were hiding and operating in rural areas.
La maison: house
Le maquisard: guerilla band member
Le pistolet: handgun, pistol
La cave: cellar
La barrique; barrel, wine cask
La cuve: vat for grape crushing and fermentation

DOORS AND FLOORS

Farmhouse renovation, episode 3

Rural France can be extremely quiet in Winter: nature hibernates and the pace slows down, including that of construction workers. After the new roof and new walls were erected in late 2018, the house was officially hors d’eau.

Jean-Luc’s workshop

Since Rick loves wood, we took a short ride to Montfaucon and visited Jean-Luc le menuisier in his workshop. Everything is custom-made. As you can see in the opening photo, he gets raw planks from the scierie, cuts them to size, preps and assembles them to create the six exterior doors and eleven windows that we need.

Kitchen door with opening for Lily the dachshund

Because he builds everything from scratch, we could ask him to customize the kitchen door and cut out a panel to accept Lily’s doggy door. Jean-Luc installed doors and windows on January 10: the house was officially hors d’air.

French doors. In France…

Meeting with the subs on a cold January morning

A meeting with all the subs quickly followed to review the blueprints and “fine-tune” the schedule. Originally, we were shooting for a completion date of mid-February but it was becoming pretty clear it was unrealistic. We were now looking at a late April move-in date.

Blueprints. They’re not blue.

Jean-Luc and crew were back very quickly to install poplar ceiling slats between the beams in the great room.

Poplar ceiling between the beams

Poplar “ceiling” viewed from the (future) walk-in closet upstairs

Next, Gilles le plombier and Raymond l’électricien would come to perform the unsexy (but essential) part of the project: install all the tubes that would bring water and power to the various rooms.

Plumbing and electrical tubes running from their respective meters

A lot of tubes converge into the old cistern; it will house the furnace and the water heater.

Then, Dominique le plaquiste and his team of drywall workers started insulating the new walls and the ceilings.

Kitchen insulation

Ceiling insulation upstairs

They covered the new walls with sheets of plasterboard. They partitioned the upstairs addition to establish the walk-in closet and my future office.

Kitchen drywall. Lily is the inspector-in-chief.

The premise of a partition wall between the office and the closet

Philippe le peintre and his crew stained the wood beams in the kitchen and the great room. They also smoothed the walls and applied base coats.

Rémi stains the kitchen beams

Valérie preps the wall before painting

Thierry and Michel –the two masons who were instrumental in the demolition– returned to finish the old interior walls.

Interior stucco with a rough finish. The old stone sink will get refurbished later on.

We had decided to apply an interior stucco on two of the walls and to have them point the stones on the other two. Love the result!

Keeping the old stones visible

Jean-Luc came back to install the subfloor in the upstairs bedroom.

Subfloor installation

While we were in California in March, Joël le carreleur barely found the time pour the first concrete slab. Then it needed to cure for a good 10 days before Gilles could install the floor insulation and thread the tubes for our sub-floor heating system.

Gilles applies foam panels to insulate the floor

A maze of heating tubes running all over the floor

That was the state of the house on April 2, just before we made a family emergency trip to California. We would be gone for only a week; all the subs had been briefed about the sequencing of their work; we hoped everybody was on the same page…  

View from my future office on a crisp February afternoon

Vocabulary
Hors d’eau: lit. out of water; waterproof. In construction, it refers to the stage where all walls are built and the structure is covered.
Le menuisier: woodworker
La scierie: sawmill
Hors d’air: lit. out of air; airtight. In construction, it refers to the stage where all openings are equipped with doors or windows so the house can be sealed.
Le plombier: plumber
L’électricien (m): electrician
Le plaquiste: drywall worker
Le peintre: painter
Le carreleur: tile setter

Missed Episode 1? Read it here.
Missed Episode 2? Read it here.
Read more about This Old House

OUR LADY

This is not the post I was planning to publish this week. We all saw the horrible images of the devastating fire that devoured Notre-Dame de Paris yesterday. Pumping water from the nearby Seine, 400 heroic firefighters managed to save the two towers, the façade, and the overall structure of the cathedral; they also secured some of the most precious relics and artworks. The 800-year-old wood frame that supported the roof, along with the spire, burned down. Damage to the grand pipe organ and the stunning stained-glass roses will need to be evaluated.

A rare photo of Notre-Dame on a snowy day

Worldwide emotion was palpable in the surrounding streets, on TV, and on the web. Sorrow was shared by French and non-French, the faithful and the occasional tourist. It showed the cathedral had truly earned its given name: OUR lady. Since the 12th century, it has been the soul of Paris. It bore witness to fundamental moments of French history: Henri IV’s marriage, Napoléon’s coronation, the Liberation from Nazi Germany. It’s the most visited monument in Europe. It’s listed as a World Heritage Site. It belongs to the world, to all of us.

Magical at night

Transcending its religious significance, the cathedral became a tribute to civilization and human know-how. Thousands of artists and artisans contributed their creativity, skills, sweat, and tears over nine centuries to build a structure so unique that it inspired writers, painters, photographers, and musicians. Millions of American children were introduced to Notre-Dame via Disney’s Ratatouille. Millions of French children discovered it through Victor Hugo’s novel. I was one of them.

From the terrace of the Insitut du Monde Arabe

Notre-Dame was my neighbor while I was a student in the Latin Quarter in the mid-70s. On a whim, after an afternoon math class that was taking place a block away, I decided to check out the view from the top. I got my ticket at the tiny guérite on the North side of the North tower and proceeded to climb 387 narrow spiraling steps. My efforts were rewarded with the most magnificent view of Paris. Yes, I think it’s better than the Eiffel Tower because of its central location and proximity to other significant sites. I made the climb on three other occasions, usually with some American guests in tow.

Stained glass in one of the lateral chapels

The keystone

I attended mass at Notre-Dame only once, in September 2011. Mom had joined me while I was in Paris for a trade show. Her mobility was a bit impaired. I picked activities that would not require her to walk too much. We chose a Gregorian mass on Sunday and sat in the middle of the nave while visitors filed through the ambulatory. The organ and the chants were glorious. Entrance to the cathedral was always free and I was amazed to see how tourists and faithful could cohabit with limited disturbance.

Gargoyles

Just about every trip to Paris led me to the site; at the very least, I strolled on the parvis or in square Jean XXIII that borders the cathedral to the South and East. I would see it from Montmartre and Belleville, from pont des Arts and pont d’Austerlitz, from Beaubourg and Institut du Monde Arabe. It was always nearby. It was eternal, or so I thought. Like everybody else, I took it for granted.

One of my early shots (almost 20 years ago) from quai de Montebello

Emmanuel Macron vowed that we would rebuild the cathedral, a gigantic endeavor. The Middle Ages were known as the era of cathedral builders; perhaps the 21st century will usher a similar period since it appears that everybody wants to be part of the reconstruction effort.

From pont de la Tournelle

I’m not sure I’ll still be around to walk into the “new” Notre-Dame but that didn’t stop the thousands of craftsmen who started building the original structure in 1160: those bâtisseurs were fully aware they would never see the result of their hard work. But they also knew they were serving a higher purpose: expressing their faith in God. Today, we can be new bâtisseurs with another purpose: expressing our faith in man and our appreciation of heritage. So that future generations of children can climb 387 steps, gaze at gargoyles, and embrace the splendid city below.

Official website for the fundraising campaign

Through an upstairs window at Shakespeare and Co.

Vocabulary
La guérite: booth
Le parvis: esplanade
Le bâtisseur: builder

My very last photo of the cathedral. Taken on March 19, 2019. The spire and the South rose reflected in the window of Charbonnel, a fine art supply shop on quai de Montebello.

VENI, VIDI, VAN GOGH

My first encounter with Van Gogh goes back to my young philatelist days. I started collecting les timbres in the late 60s. My collection had no particular focus and my approach was opportunistic: find an envelope with a pretty image, cut out the top right corner, soak and remove the stamp, let dry. Of course, bigger was better and I was always on the lookout for large commemoratives. La Poste regularly issued stamps in their Série touristique and I was especially fond of them: those miniature gravures took me to Le Mont Saint-Michel, Carcassonne, and Bort-les-Orgues long before I was old enough to visit the actual locations on my own.

My second favorite category was fine arts. Not so much because I was enamored with paintings but because these stamps were always oversized and they just looked stunning in my red album. A couple of school friends were collectionneurs as well and we traded our duplicates. I got my first timbre artistique from Laurent: it was La Baigneuse by Dominique Ingres. Van Gogh didn’t enter my collection until 1979 when the Post Office issued L’Eglise d’Auvers sur Oise. What a shock! I had never seen such a luminous stamp. It simply popped from the album page and made all other paintings look bland.

A visit to the musée d’Orsay in 1988 was a revelation: twenty-four of his paintings, in one room, bathed in natural light. I was transfixed by the richness of his colors, the depth of his blues in particular. I stared at Starry Night, a painting so powerful that I felt pulled into the deep water of the Rhône river.

A trip to Arles in 2017 cemented my appreciation for his works. My friend Raegan and I walked in Vincent’s footsteps, searching for the exact locations that he painted during two of his most prolific years.

While in Paris last month, Rick and I made a point of booking tickets to “Van Gogh: La nuit étoilée” at L’Atelier des Lumières, an immersive experience that runs through December 2019. Located in the 11th arrondissement, it is situated on the site of the former Fonderie du Chemin-Vert, a factory that started casting metal in 1835. The location had not been occupied since 2000; Bruno Monnier came up with the project of converting the space into a center for numeric arts. The first show opened in 2018 and was devoted to Gustav Klimt.

To say that Van Gogh: La nuit étoilée is a projection of the artist’s works on the interior walls of a building is inadequate. This is very different from the vacation slide shows we all endured in our parents’ living room during the 70s! To produce the exhibit, thousands of tableaux –and some of Vincent’s letters to his brother Theo– were digitized at a very high resolution. The images are set in motion to complement an inspired musical score that includes classical and modern pieces from Vivaldi to Miles Davis, from Mozart to Nina Simone. More than one hundred video projectors are used to broadcast the program on the walls and the floor of the Atelier; it’s custom-made to take advantage of the various surfaces, the angles of the walls, and the roundness of the pillars.

Each visual and musical sequence truly immerse you into Van Gogh’s universe: ten chronological scenes illustrate his painting style and technique, showcase his favorite subjects, and transport the viewers to his famous locales: Montmartre, Arles, Saint-Remy, Auvers. The images dissolve into each other and seem to be animated. Yet, the sequencing is not too speedy: it’s still possible to appreciate the richness of a given painting –and its details– but on a much larger scale than in a museum viewing. The photos on this post don’t do justice to the exhibit: they are just meant to convey the ambition of the show and the feeling of the space. I found the whole installation to be truly spectacular, almost magical. Planning a trip to Paris this year? I highly recommend you make time for Van Gogh: La nuit étoilée and plunge into the deep blue waters of the Rhône river.

Here are a few useful tips if you decide to go to L’Atelier des Lumières.

• Besides Van Gogh, the current exhibit features two other immersions: Japon Rêvé (excellent) and Verse, which made me feel like I was witnessing the Big Bang or traveling in space. All three programs are shown successively in the main hall; the whole experience lasts one hour.

• This show runs through December 31, 2019. Admission is limited and you must book your ticket online. The online calendar shows available days and time slots.

• Time slots are on the half-hour: depending on your scheduling, the program (for you) might start either with Van Gogh or with Japan/Verse.

• I don’t know whether all time slots sell out but there might be fewer spectators during the lunch hour or at the tail end of the day. There are nocturnes on Friday and Saturday nights. Predictably, weekends sell out faster.

• The place didn’t feel crowded to me or, at least, the crowds didn’t interfere with my viewing pleasure. There is a sitting area in the mezzanine and some circular benches scattered in the room. Many people chose to sit or even lie down on the floor; some preferred to stand but were considerate not to do so in front of those who were sitting down. You can wander around but the projected images are seamlessly repeated in different areas: you will not be missing anything if you just stay put in a particular spot. I didn’t feel there was one bad seat in the house, just slightly different perspectives due to the various shapes of the surfaces.

• Non-flash photography is authorized but I would recommend that you just allow yourself to take in the whole experience and not be distracted. If you absolutely want to take photographs, my suggestion is to stay for a “second round” as the whole program repeats on the hour and you will not get kicked out if you stay for a second viewing.

• Save some time for the gift shop: the selection and the quality of the items are worthy of the top museums I’ve visited.

L’Atelier des Lumières
38 rue Saint Maur
75011 Paris

Vocabulary

Le timbre: stamp
La Poste: French post office
La Série touristique: touristique series
Le collectionneur: collector
Le timbre artistique: fine arts stamp
La Baigneuse: Female Nude, Bather
L’Eglise d’Auvers sur Oise: Church at Auvers
Le tableau: painting

DINE AND FLY

I’m picky about restaurants: working in the specialty food business for thirty years exposes you to some of the tastiest (and sometimes weirdest) ingredients in the world. It’s hard for me to pay good money for uninteresting food and poor execution.

I’ve been known to research the food scene at my destination prior to traveling. It certainly doesn’t preclude random discoveries that often reveal delicious options but I usually have a list of old favorites or new go-to places in case nothing exciting turns up. No Michelin-starred establishments, more like “little holes in the wall” that prepare pristine sushi, a superlative cheesy-corny quesadilla, the lightest fish and chips, or a perfectly cooked angler steak with shallot sauce.

Then there is air travel, airline food, and airport restaurants. Ugh.

My default flight from Paris to San Francisco requires me to check in at 7 am at CDG1. I have two options. The evening before departure, I can spend the night in Paris proper and enjoy a superlative dinner just about anywhere; but that also means getting up at some ungodly hour to reach the airport on time, hoping to avoid rush hour traffic or praying the RER trains are not affected by the all-too-frequent strikes. Or, I can minimize my morning stress and stay at an airport hotel: it seriously reduces my dining choices but it makes me a more pleasant traveler the next day.

Over the years I’ve tried a few hotels around the airport but there is one particular restaurant that I particularly favor: the Novotel Café that is steps away from the RER/CDGVAL transportation hub. I would describe it as a modern brasserie where you can order a perfectly seared entrecôte, a risotto with cèpes mushrooms, or a runny chocolate lava cake. The wait staff is impeccably dressed in white shirts and black slacks or skirts. It’s not an airport cafeteria, nor a restauration rapide joint: the setting is not too casual and they aim to provide a finer dining experience than what you would expect at an airport.

During my last visit, my table was located by the glass partition that separates the dining room from a lush bamboo garden: it’s a green haven that makes you temporarily forget the ever-present concrete and uninspiring architecture of the train station (if you’ve been there, you know what I’m talking about.) It was close to 8 pm. I was by myself this time, sipping a glass of Rosé and enjoying a delicious plate of salmon sashimi when my eye caught an unusual reflection in the glass wall: an explosion of flowers. I turned my head and noticed that two 40ish women were now sitting ten feet in front of me. Both were wearing mid-calf dresses that seem to be cut from the same pattern, the same black fabric, and the same floral print, albeit red for one and green for the other. Big hair and make-up. Immaculate white tennis shoes. They shared a bottle of Les Jolies Filles Côtes-de-Provence Rosé. They spoke in French. Obviously, two BFF gearing up for a trip to… Barcelona? Berlin? Marrakech?

I started to scan the room, observing my fellow diners, trying to figure out their respective destinations. The gentleman by the wall to my right was easy to peg: 50ish, jeans, white shirt, navy blue blazer hanging on the back of his chair, reading the latest Haruki Murakami’s novel. Tokyo-bound for sure. Further back, three middle-aged men, all in pale blue button-down shirts and V-neck sweaters; animated conversation; probably discussing the deal they would iron out in New York or Boston; probably flying Business class or hoping for an upgrade. The older couple a few tables in front of me was already in the dining room when I arrived. They had ordered the three-course meal with a bottle of wine and Champagne. They lingered, squeezing and enjoying every last minute of their anniversary vacation in Paris (?) before returning home to the US. As I was finishing my herbal tea, a middle-aged couple arrived; he wore a Hawaii surfing t-shirt; she asked for green vegetables instead of potatoes; their English sounded sans accent to my Californian ear. I was pretty sure they would be boarding my flight to San Francisco the next day.

Faces, places. People-watching is almost a national sport in French cafés. Perhaps they too were guessing the destination printed on my boarding pass.


Vocabulary
L’entrecôte (f): rib-eye steak
Le cèpe: porcini
La restauration rapide: fast-food
Sans accent: without accent

DARLING CLEMENTINE

We have always tried to eat in season. My grandparents grew vegetables in their potagers; Mom visited the bi-weekly market and the maraîchers; most of the time I favor the fruits and vegetables available at the Farmers’ markets.

One desirable advantage of living in a rural area is having easy access to produce from the surrounding farmland. In France, we call it circuit court, where intermediaries between producer and consumer are almost eliminated. I truly love being so close to my food sources but our climate is quite different from California, even though we live in southwestern France. For the first time in many years, I didn’t have access to local citrus this past winter. In Modesto, I could pick a Eureka lemon from my own tree to accompany sole meunière, or harvest some sweet Meyer lemons in my in-law’s backyard to candy some zests. And there was always someone bringing a full bag of oranges because they didn’t want them to go to waste.

Unless you have a serre (or an orangerie like at the château de Versailles…) it is extremely difficult to grow citrus trees in France and expect to harvest anything. The only area where you may see citrus en pleine terre is along the Mediterranean coast, particularly between Nice and Menton: the city close to the Italian border has organized a Fête du Citron for 86 years. During two weeks each February, you can stroll among citrus replica of fantastic animals or famous buildings like Notre-Dame Cathedral, the Eiffel Tower or a gigantic Taj Mahal.

Clementines from Corsica

A bit further South, Corsica produces the only clementine in France. The groves are located on the eastern plains of the island. The small fruit is juicy and seedless, with a good balance between sweetness and acidity. The skin is thin and shiny. In 2007, la Clémentine de Corse was granted an Indication Géographique Protégée to recognize its quality and specificity. Among the 70 criteria that producers must respect: the clementines have to be harvested by hand; plucked at maturity with at least two of their leaves attached to the stem; and not be subjected to any treatment that would alter its color.

I’ve enjoyed plenty of delicious clementines during my California years. Are the Corsican ones better? It’s a bit hard to tell unless you eat them side by side but I really like their floral tanginess. They are sold in small wooden crates or in bulk: choosing each fruit topped with a couple of green leaves enables you to appreciate how fresh they are. I mostly eat them out of hand; they yield an eye-opening breakfast juice; and, like other clementines, they make delicate desserts.

Vocabulary
Le potager: vegetable garden
Le maraîcher: an individual who grows and sell his own produce; usually on the outskirt of a city.
Le circuit court: lit. short circuit; short supply channel
La sole Meunière: the classic dish of sole in a butter lemon sauce
La serre: greenhouse
L’orangerie: orangery, a dedicated room or structure where potted trees are moved to protect them from freezing temperatures.
En pleine terre: in the ground, as opposed to grown in pots

TARTELETTE A LA CRÈME DE CLEMENTINE
Tartlets with clementine cream
Makes 8 tartlets

 
1 sheet of pastry (homemade or store-bought)
2 eggs
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
8 clementines
1 tsp corn starch

Preheat oven to 375ºF. Roll out the pastry; cut out circles the same diameter as the tartlet pans; line the pans with dough rounds. In a salad bowl whisk the eggs, 1/4 cup of sugar, and vanilla extract until pale and creamy. Zest one clementine; juice four of them. Add zest, juice and corn starch to the egg mixture and mix well. Pour into the tartlets and bake for 20 minutes. Let cool. Cut eight slices in the remaining clementines. In a small saucepan, heat half a cup of water and the remaining sugar. As soon as the syrup starts boiling, add the clementine slices and cook until they start caramelizing. Remove from the heat and allow them to cool completely. Drain. Top each tartlet with one slice before serving.

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

WALLS AND ROOF

Farmhouse renovation, episode 2

It’s really happening! We’re actually building a house or at least, it feels that way. Let’s be honest: our subs are doing all the heaving lifting. But after witnessing an extensive demolition during the Summer, it has been quite rewarding to see our future house take shape under our watch. As much as I would have enjoyed moving straight into my finished house, I must admit that it is a tremendous advantage to live less than one hundred yards from the construction site and be able to address issues as they invariably crop up.

Kitchen foundations

First item on the list was to build an extension so I could have une vraie cuisine to play in. We decided to pretty much follow the footprint of the 19th century house which included some low structures for the farm animals. My new kitchen will sit where the cochons and the lapins used to reside! I have high hopes that our Lapin Agile painting will eventually find a home on one of the kitchen walls.

Preparing the kitchen floor

After digging trenches for the foundations and pouring a rough slab, les maçons laid out waterproof membranes to prep the kitchen for a smooth pour of concrete.

Great room floor before the concrete pour

Wood planks and subfloor had been removed from the “great room” (i.e. the old fireplace room) and the downstairs bedroom during the demo. The exposed dirt got the same treatment as the kitchen.

Pouring concrete

On October 2nd, a huge cement truck negotiated its way between the linden tree and the boxwoods, deployed its telescopic arm, and started shooting a steady stream of dark grey béton all over the rez-de-chaussée.

Michel smoothing concrete in the future bathroom

The kitchen slab

For a few hours, the smooth wet floors glistened under the bright sun. Lily didn’t feel the urge to check them out too closely and was kind enough to leave them alone, free of souvenir paw prints.

Great room slab after curing

Kitchen walls are going up

The concrete cured rapidly and our masons were back onsite with pallets of red brick blocks to build the kitchen walls.

New walls!

By mid-October, they also had erected the walls for the downstairs bathroom and brought up the walls of the downstairs bedroom up to the roof level (we wanted one height and pitch throughout instead of the three different roofs we inherited.) New openings were created for les portes and les fenêtres. They also consolidated (hum, rebuilt) the chimney.

New beams in the bedroom

Downstairs, Jean-Luc le menuisier brought and installed rows of beams to define the ceiling above the bathroom and the bedroom. Oak, chestnut, poplar, and fir are routinely used for construction as they are plentiful in our area. Instead of going to the local Home Depot equivalent, woodworkers order what they need directly from the local scierie and beams are custom made for your project.

The great room, original ceiling removed

We knew the ceiling planks above the great room were weak and would need to be replaced. After testing the beams and noticing a fair amount of wormholes, we decided to err on the side of safety and install a fresh set of those as well.

Adjusting the new beams for the great room

Steel bars prior to pouring concrete on the porch

It was almost time for Patrick le charpentier-couvreur to get started on the roof. But first, the masons had to come again to pour some concrete on the future porch area so that Patrick could set up his scaffolding all around the house.

Building the roof above the bedroom and bathroom

To frame the roof over the added rooms, Patrick and his team brought in some fermette or what I like to call roof-in-a-kit: the trusses are pre-assembled in triangular panels and lifted up to sit on top of the walls.

Patrick and his son framing the roof

Waterproofing the roof

Almost covered

Finished! Time for a ride…

In a protected area like ours, roof pitch dictates the type of tile (and the color options) that can be used. For the main body of the house, we chose a tuile à côte universelle, a traditional tile widely used around 1900 on residences and public buildings; for the kitchen and porch where the pitch is shallower, it would be a tuile double canal, a stronger and more water-proof version of the tuile canal typically used in Southern France.

Working on the kitchen roof

When laying tiles on the kitchen, the roofers used the buddy system: one stayed down and would throw a tile up to his friend who was stationed on the roof. For the roof over the main house (two stories), they would load their green backhoe loader and use it as an elevator.

Timber frame construction with fitted joints for the porch

Beautiful oak. Note the wood pegs…

It was fascinating to see the porch take shape. The oak posts, beams, and rafters were custom-made for our location. Instead of butt joints and nails, the components are shaped to lock-in together with wood pegs holding the fitted joints. These guys still follow the same artisanal techniques that were used centuries ago.

Oak rafters and poplar planks

Facade hors d’eau

When we left to visit my sister for New Year’s Eve, our house was hors d’eau: all the walls were up and the roof covered. We figured we might only be half-way through the renovation project but, at least, we were getting a pretty good idea of what the house would look like in the end. I think my grandparents would approve.  

Missed Episode 1? Read it here.
Read more about This Old House

Vocabulary
Une vraie cuisine: a real kitchen
Le cochon: pig
Le lapin: rabbit
Le maçon: mason
Le béton: concrete
Le rez-de-chaussée: first floor
La porte: door
La fenêtre: window
Le menuisier: woodworker
La scierie: sawmill
Le charpentier-couvreur: carpenter-roofer
La fermette: pre-manufactured scissor trusses
La tuile: roof tile
La côte: hill, rib. In this case, the tile has a rib running down lengthwise to better channel water.
La tuile canal: this tile is shaped like a half cylinder.
La tuile double canal: two-thirds of the tile is shaped like a half cylinder, the other third is flat. Unlike the tuile canal, all tiles are laid out curvy side up.
Hors d’eau: lit. out of water; waterproof. In construction, it refers to the stage where all walls are built and the structure is covered.

LA MAZARINE

You are undoubtedly familiar with l’Académie Française, the body of 40 immortels who are charged with preserving and perfecting the French language. They gather under the dome of the Institut de France on quai de Conti. You can’t miss the sight of its cupola when you cross the Seine from the Louvre to the Left Bank: passerelle des Arts ends right in front of the imposing building.

Several Académies at l’Institut de France

Originally built in 1662 as the Collège des Quatre Nations, l’Institut is not open to the public, except during the Journées du Patrimoine when you can tour the chapel and possibly sit in one of the Académiciens’ fauteuils de velours vert.

A panoramic view of the courtyard

You may not know that the XVIIth century building also houses the bibliothèque Mazarine in its left wing. As the oldest public library in France, it is open for free visits and organized tours: simply walk through the vaulted stone entrance to reach a rectangular paved courtyard, a bit reminiscent of the Sorbonne.

CM for Cardinal Mazarin

I spent a few minutes admiring the symmetry of the old college, its mullioned windows, and its slate roofs. I turned left, climbed the wide stairs below the triangular frontispiece, and took note of the large brass handles carved with CM, the mark of Cardinal de Mazarin.

A grand entrance to the library

Cardinal Jules de Mazarin succeeded Richelieu as Chief Minister of Louis XIII and served as Louis XIV’s educator and Chief Minister as well. His personal library of some 40,000 volumes was originally kept in his hôtel particulier on rue Richelieu. In his will, he made provisions to have the Collège des Quatre Nations built on quai de Conti where his extensive book collection would be housed.

La petite galerie

A spiral staircase leads to a double set of carved doors on the third level. I entered the Petite Galerie, a small reading room lined with books and wooden drawers presumably filled with the French equivalent of library cards. They might just be relics: I noticed several computer stations throughout the library.

La grande galerie

Old habits die hard: passing through heavy wood doors, the sound of my boots on the parquet seemed a bit loud. In the Grande Galerie, I paused and took in the quietness, the rich tones of the wood, the orderly arrangement of massive tables, cane-backed chairs, dark green reading lamps, and ornate chandeliers.

Leather-bound books. Old, old books.

Ancient volumes line the shelves on the walls; most are bound in leather with faded titles in gold leaf. Apparently, the library holds 600,000 printed books and tends to specialize in historical science. A 1455 Guttenberg bible is locked in a vault.

A 1693 celestial globe by Coronelli

Mazarin’s private collection was transferred to this site along with many decor elements from his original library: columns, pedestals, wood panels, etc.

Unknown Roman. The grande galerie is lined with bronze and marble busts featuring Roman emperors, authors (such as Cicero, Sophocles or Aristotle) and scientists from the XVII and XVIIIth centuries.

The bouquinistes are closed today…

In the main reading room, tall windows look north: toward the quay, the Seine, the bouquinistes stalls, the Louvre.

The chapel cupola and the courtyard

On the southern side, the gilded cupola above the chapel stands front and center.

The grand staircase was added in 1824

I walked back to the entrance, checking out every marble and bronze bust that seemed to watch over the students, making sure the beauty of their surroundings would not distract them from their work. More Romans and Greeks followed me down the spiral staircase.

Sundial. Nocte pulsa refulgen mentibus: chasing away the night, enlightening the minds.

Back at ground level, the chapel and its gold sundial towered over passersby who were hurrying up indoors: a fine drizzle had just started.

This is why you MUST walk into any open courtyard when strolling in Paris…

I took one last look at the peaceful courtyard, pulled out my umbrella, and headed out to a café.

Bibliothèque Mazarine official website

Vocabulary
Immortel: immortal. Members of the Académie Française are called immortels. Like you and me, they will pass on but the French language will never die (oh, wait: what happened to Latin!!!)
La passerelle: pedestrian bridge
Le fauteuil de velours vert: green velvet armchair
La bibliothèque: library
L’hôtel particulier (m): private mansion
Le bouquiniste: used bookseller who displays his merchandise in green kiosks lining the Seine

THE GETAWAY

Rick served his sentence and was released from jail a week before Christmas. He didn’t look worse for the wear. It was only a three-month stint. He got some education and a couple of free meals.

Enter at your own peril…

Rick moved to France with a visa long séjour, a 12-month visa that is granted to family members of a French citizen (that would be moi.) The requirements to get the visa renewed are two-fold: show a basic understanding of French and attend a couple of classes of instruction civique. After an initial evaluation at the Immigration Office in Toulouse, he was prescribed 100 hours of French.

An imposing, massive stone façade

We drove to Cahors for the civics classes, a full day in November, another one in December. He was afforded a personal English translator: he happened to be the only English speaker… He also received meal vouchers and had lunch with his interpreter while I explored la vieille ville (yes, you can expect future posts on Cahors.) Luckily, the language classes were scheduled in Gourdon. The program called for a semi-immersion where Rick spent 7 hours every Wednesday in a classroom. It turned out to take place in an exceptional setting: la Maison du Roy i.e. the King’s House.

This is the King’s House. Consider yourself warned…

During the French monarchy, la Maison du Roy used to be the city jail. The archives do not list any notable prisoner and we’re left to assume that jail only housed drunkards and chicken thieves.

Peekaboo!

Built inside the fortified city, la Maison du Roy shares its southern wall with the old ramparts that were a defensive barrier against potential invaders: these stone walls are about 6 feet wide! Interestingly enough, the now-defunct courthouse shared that wall –and a door, for the sake of convenience– with the old jail. In spite of their restoration, the window openings on the northern side hint at what a massive structure it really is.

Window with a view

The view from the second story windows showcases the Saint-Pierre church (14th century) up the hill. In the (very) old days, it would have afforded a nice view on the medieval castle that was destroyed by the English at the end of the 100-year war.

View without a window

Flanked by the Maison des Jeunes et de la Culture and by the city library, la Maison du Roy now houses a few rooms available for rent (meetings, conferences, etc.) And perhaps an old jail for students who don’t pass their French language test…

The jail keeper, perhaps? Watchful kitty across the square.

Vocabulary
Le long séjour: long stay
Moi: me
L’instruction civique (f): civics class
La vieille ville: old town
Le rampart: fortified wall