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

À BICYCLETTE

During the recent transportation strikes, a significant contingent of commuters dusted off their bicyclettes and rode them to the office. It was especially the case for those living around Paris since they heavily depend on public transportation.

There is always a bike attached to the Fontaine de la Croix-du-Trahoir, 1st arr. Or so it seems.

Have bike and fishing pole, will travel.

A recent segment on French news suggested that a substantial number of them continue to use their bikes even though the métro, RER, and buses are now running normally. For some, it’s a convenient way to schedule some exercise in their daily routine. Others simply enjoy their newfound independence.

Thankfully, it didn’t snow in Paris during the transportation strike!

A bicycle on rue Crémieux, years before the colorful street was “discovered” by Instagrammers

Independence, indeed. Everybody remembers their first bicycle, the apprehension and elation of les petites roues coming off, and the feeling of freedom when mom and dad say you can ride to grandma’s house all by yourself. Your bicycle becomes your most treasured possession until you’re old enough to drive a moped (France) or a car (USA.)

Parked by the marché aux fleurs, on Ile de la Cité

Draisiennes at Musée des Arts et Métiers

French inventors had a creative hand in the development of the bicycle. Although German baron Karl von Drais introduced the first two-wheeler (a.k.a. la draisienne) in 1817, it was only operated by kicking against the street. Through the 19th century, patents filed by Mercier, Michaud or Lallement, added pedals, crank drives, and brakes so the vehicle continued to evolve. Many of those early designs are on display at the often overlooked Musée des Arts et Métiers. Peugeot started selling their first bikes in 1886, Dunlop invented the tire in 1888, and Michelin filed his inner-tube patent in 1891. All this ushered a bicycle Golden Age.

Bike and boats, canal de la Villette.

Parked on rue Ronsard, below the Sacré-Coeur. Fancy saddle bags!

The first cycling competition was held in 1868 in Saint-Cloud. In 1869, one hundred racers competed in the Paris-Rouen race. Bordeaux-Paris and Paris-Brest-Paris started in 1891. Le Tour de France was created in 1903 and remains the premier race in the world.

A bike family on impasse Canart, 12th arr.

Taking a break in front of la Maison des Canaux, 19th arr.

Recreational cycling has always been a popular activity in France. On any given Sunday, you’re very likely to spot groups of friends riding their vélos de course. I was on the front lines of the “folding bike” craze during my early teens. Out in the countryside, we often see couples and families (and luggage!) riding touring bikes. Several of our neighbors cleverly purchased electric bikes: baby boomers love to conquer our hilly terrain with a little help…

Vélib’ station on rue Quincampoix, 3rd arr.

Inspired by the Dutch bicycle rental/sharing model, the city of Paris introduced Vélib’ in 2007 and the grey bikes quickly became ubiquitous. The operator and color scheme changed in 2018 but the transition was chaotic. The system currently includes 20,000 bicycles distributed over 1,100 stations.

BFF in Sarlat

A bike and a bridge, San Francisco

Going through my photo collection, I was surprised that so many of my pictures included bicycles and I’m sharing some of them with you today. I do think they make interesting props whether in Paris, in the countryside, or abroad.

Dry-cleaning delivery in New York

A love letter to Jacqueline in Chicago

Minty bike in Burano

Bicultural bike on rue du Grand Prieuré, 11th arr.

Most of all, bicycles are signs of human presence and activity. Sometimes, they even have stories to tell…

Bike retirement home?

Vocabulary
La bicyclette: bicycle
Les petites roues: lit. small wheels; training wheels
Le vélo de course: racing bike; ten-speed bike

HOLLYWOOD-SUR-DORDOGNE

And action! Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite ready for my close-up. Strike 1: the casting directors were calling for women with long hair. Strike 2: the shooting would last three weeks and include the early part of March, just when I was planning to be in California. I (almost) could have been a contender.

The calm before the storm? Sarlat is so lovely –and quiet– in February.

The announcements came through my Facebook feed and it was a welcome change from cat memes and sponsored ads urging me to book a snow vacation in the Pyrénées. The production company was looking for no less than 800 figurants for a big-budget film set in medieval times. The shoot would take place at various locations around Sarlat in the Dordogne.

Ridley Scott is coming to town!

More information about the film started to leak online: titled The Last Duel, it would be directed by Sir Ridley Scott. You may have heard of him: his credits include Alien, Blade Runner, Thelma and Louise, Gladiator and, more recently, The Martian. Grosse pointure…

The old tobacco plant becomes the art department

I’ve been a fan of Ridley Scott since The Duellists, his very first film (1977) starring Keith Carradine and Harvey Keitel, sporting handlebar mustaches and funny braided hair. For that period piece set during Napoleonic times, Scott had chosen to film in and around Sarlat. Obviously, the Dordogne brought him good luck: he walked away from Cannes with the award for Best Film Debut. No wonder he wanted to come back here! After more than four decades, it must have felt like a pleasant retour aux sources. And there is that duel theme again…

Who wants to try on a chain mail armor?

For that reason alone, it would have been fun to be part of the cast and to have stories to tell. Such as “keep your eyes peeled during the market scene: I’m the third peasant woman on the left!” Oh, I’m so sorry you blinked….

A four-star hotel, privatized for a full month

It would have been fun to be on the set and rub elbows with some bona fide actors: the meaty parts are going to Matt Damon, Adam Driver, Ben Affleck, and Jodie Comer (yes, Villanelle from “Killing Eve.”) Instead, I have to rely on local media to find out what the stars have been up to. So here we go. Matt and Ridley had dinner at La Couleuvrine, a restaurant in the old town; Ridley ordered “something with truffles” (yeah!) while Matt had a burger (what???) Jodie was spotted at the Sarlat market: she was not wearing dark glasses or make-up but was radiant and friendly. Adam took his family to visit Lascaux IV and –can you believe it– he simply booked his reservation for this excellent prehistoric experience online, just like any of us would! At this very moment, inquiring minds want to know if Ben will finally arrive: there hasn’t been an Affleck sighting yet.

Imposing Beynac castle and its village

I realize this sounds like your typical fluff segment on Entertainment Tonight but, in our defense, nothing ever happens here in winter: tourists are scarce, most shops stay close until April, many of the ubiquitous restaurants in Sarlat are taking their congés annuels… While this is not the first time that a movie production settles in the area, the scale of this film is unprecedented and it is expected to be most expensive film of the year.

Crows always seem to be flying around Beynac

Most of all, it would have been fun to be close to the action and just observe how a film gets made. There are sets to build, costumes to fit, animals to handle, and food to cater! Would you like chicken or pasta? Some truffle omelet, perhaps?

What a setting!

Since I would not be part of the cast or crew, I decided to do the next best thing: location scouting. And boy, do we have the right locations for the story Scott wants to tell! The year is 1386. Jean de Carrouges (Damon) is a Norman knight who returns home from the war. His wife Marguerite (Comer) accuses his best friend Jacques LeGris (Driver) of raping her. No one believes her accusation and a court ruling favors LeGris. De Carrouges appeals to King Charles VI who sentences the two men to fight in a duel to the death. God will be the judge: if de Carrouges prevails, it means Marguerite was telling the truth. If LeGris is the victor, she will be burnt at the stake for making a false accusation. The film is based on true events and this was indeed the last legally sanctioned duel in France.

The narrow streets of Beynac

The Dordogne is rich in medieval castles, fortified towns, and old villages that provide the perfect setting for a story unfolding in the 14th century. Your intrepid reporter checked out the specific locations that Scott selected and they are indeed compelling. Although Sarlat itself is only used as a production base, I was curious about visible signs of unusual activity; I visited a few days before the start of the shoot. At the southern edge of town, several trucks were parked at the site of the tobacco processing plant that shut down a few months ago. Bright orange signs confirmed that the sets and props were being built and stored there. A little further down the road, more signs pointed to the old Boîte à Clous: the former home improvement center served as a giant cabine d’essayage for the extras chosen during the casting calls. Several men sporting disheveled hair and bushy beards walked into the building, presumably to try on their costumes.

Getting close to the action!

Follow the signs…

Old Town Sarlat was virtually empty that day, as it usually is in February. Although the weather was mild and sunny, only a handful of people were sitting at the café terraces. I could have crossed paths with a movie star or two if I had set up camp in front of the hotel where they were staying but who wants to be an obnoxious paparazzo? Thinking you could nurse a glass of Bergerac at the bar while waiting for someone famous to enter? Fogettaboudit (with apologies to Monsieur De Niro…) The four-star Plaza Madeleine has been privatized for a whole month.

Which trailer is Matt’s?

A week later, I drove to Beynac during the shoot. As expected, access to the castle was restricted but large yellow arrows pointed to the set, the parking areas for the crew, and the “trailers basecamp.” Fenced off with green tarps secured to wire panels, a large parking lot by the river was home to about 15 trailers and an assortment of vehicles with heavily tinted windows. They probably didn’t have a good view of the Dordogne below but the sight of the fortress on top of the cliff is inescapable. Château de Beynac is a jewel of the region. Built in the 12th century, the large square-shaped keep dominates the valley. It stayed in French hands during the 100-year war while Castelnaud, on the other side of the river, fell to the English. The village below stretches along the narrow road that follows the Dordogne with many houses being attached to the rock. Major scenes of the film take place inside and outside the castle, in the village, and in the church for a wedding. Reports indicate that period furniture was brought from England.

Who was he? Will need to watch the credits…

The restaurant at the base of the village –where the main road intersects with the one leading to the castle– seemed to be the place where the cast waited to be picked up by the cast pool vehicles. One actor, dressed in a long black velvet coat and wearing several gold bands on his fingers, stood at the corner with an assistant carrying additional clothing packed in a dry-cleaning bag. After a few minutes, they were whisked away on the castle road by a shiny black mini-van. From the look of his costume, I figured he probably played a noble or a clergy person.

Place des Cornières in Monpazier

The covered market in Monpazier

I drove to the bastide of Monpazier, a fortified town built in the 13th century. It’s a charming village of 500 souls that was developed around Place des Cornières, a large square lined with stone houses and arcades. It’s remarkably well-preserved but definitely has that “old look” to it.

Woodworkers

Lifting up and securing a wooden balcony

It’s all in the details

Sometimes, it’s just not old enough. For instance, Renaissance fenêtres would look out of place in a 14th-century setting. The crew was not filming in Monpazier that day but a large team of local artisans was busy building wooden doors and balconies to make sure all architectural details were period-specific.

Painters

Painters were aging metal hardware and wood surfaces.

How to build fake windows with plastic

Fake medieval windows were built and installed over more recent ones.

The cats will have to play somewhere else

The shops under the arcade will also be brought “down” to date.

Will the shopkeeper play a shopkeeper?

The shopkeeper of the Casino grocery store was watching the activity in the middle of the square with as much interest as I was and didn’t seem concerned about the potential of lost sales. This Thursday and Friday, a medieval market scene with 200 extras will be filmed in Monpazier. The amount of crew and cast will probably exceed the local population.

Château de Fénelon

The third local site to be used in the movie is the château de Fénelon. This medieval fortress is located a mere 5 miles from our house so I might just claim that part of the film was shot in my backyard! No interior scene here but the grounds around the castle were covered with artificial snow and studded with large tents and banners to recreate a military camp.

Fénelon is fully furnished and open to the public

Production will move to a couple of other areas in France. Casting calls took place in Carcassonne for scenes to be shot at the Abbaye de Fondfroide, a splendid 11th-century abbey with the Pyrenées as the backdrop. Finally, they will be headed for Mâcon in Burgundy.

Fénelon sits on a hill that dominates the Dordogne valley

I’m always tickled when I watch a movie that was filmed in places I know well; this one will be even more special because I was there for the shoot, kinda… I’m sure that some of you will recognize those locations as the Dordogne is a well-traveled region: Beynac, in particular, is extremely popular with tourists. For others, perhaps this post will serve as an introduction to a beautiful area of France.

That’s a wrap!

One last look at Beynac

P.S. The Last Duel will be in theaters in January 2021, with a limited release on December 25, 2020; obviously a move to qualify for the Academy Awards. I’m wondering whether the hashtag #MedievalMeToo will be trending by then...

Vocabulary
Le figurant: extra (actor)
La grosse pointure: lit. large shoe size; big shoes to fill
Le retour aux sources: lit. return to its (river) sources; back to its roots
Les congés annuels: yearly vacations
La cabine d’essayage: dressing room
La bastide: fortified town with a center square and streets intersecting at 90º angles
La fenêtre: window

Visit Château de Beynac
Visit Château de Fénelon

SECOND LIFE

What happens when trains don’t run? Major inconvenience. France is slowly emerging from one of its longest strikes. Spearheaded by RATP and SNCF rail workers, this national grève had its biggest impact on banlieusards, those who live on the outskirts of Paris but commute to work in the capital. I used to be one of them; let me assure you I’m not one bit nostalgic about those times.

Gare de Gourdon at dusk

In our little corner of La France Profonde –where public transportation is minimal– this strike mostly affected high school and college students who rely on train service to reach their schools in Brive, Cahors, and Toulouse. At times, the Gourdon train station was completely deserted as traffic between Paris and Toulouse came to a standstill. But what happens when trains stop running for good? What happens to the stations, the grade crossing keepers’ houses, the bridges, the rail beds?

Gourdon then…

The historical importance of train service can’t be overstated. In the US, whole cities grew up as rail centers, especially west of the Mississippi: Rick’s hometown Modesto was founded in October 1870 with the coming of the railroad. In France and in the rest of Europe, where towns and villages had developed over the course of centuries, the establishment of a train stop was a highly anticipated and celebrated event: it favored economic growth, regional and national commerce, and population migrations. It also provided a lot of jobs.

Gourdon now

Our train station in Gourdon was inaugurated in 1891 and life changed overnight: it would now take only 15 hours to reach Paris, instead of the 14 days (!!!) required by horse-drawn coaches. The station is four kilometers from our house and sits on the Paris Austerlitz to Toulouse line: nowadays the trip takes about 5 hours. Although we can’t get TGV service on this line, I treasure the convenience of reaching the center of Paris in a comfortable Intercités, without transferring to another train. For the past decade, frequency has declined and there are rumors of SNCF wanting to cancel the stop at our station, thus forcing us to transfer in Brive. Locally, nobody likes the idea and demonstrations regularly take place in town and at the station. Sometimes, les manifestants gather on the rails for a picnic.

Payrignac then…

Payrignac now

Today, I’m taking you along a local rail line that disappeared… and experienced a second life. At the tail end of the 19th century, a young man from the Aveyron came over here to work on a brand-new junction between Gourdon and Sarlat. While working in the area, he met and married a young woman who lived in Payrignac. After the line opened in 1902, he moved back to Espalion with his bride, my great-aunt.

The lampisterie in Payrignac: the small building next to the station was used to store light bulbs and portable lamps.

Restrooms behind the lampisterie.

My grandfather worked as a trackman on that line before moving to Paris where he continued to work for the Chemins de Fer d’Orléans. During school breaks, Dad and his siblings took the train for free to return to the family farm. Catching their train at Austerlitz, they would get off in Gourdon and transfer to reach Payrignac, the first stop on the Gourdon-Sarlat line. Their grandfather would meet them at the station and load the suitcases in his wheelbarrow. After a short 250-yard walk, they were home.

The old schedule

The line was single-track with one train and there were three roundtrips per day. It took about 40 minutes to cover the 10 miles separating the two towns. Sarlat was not a tourist destination yet but a main hub for commerce. Agricultural products like tobacco and walnuts were handled and transformed in local plants: my great-aunt rode the train to Sarlat to sell her load of shelled walnuts to a wholesaler. Shelling walnuts at home, à la veillée, was a way for women to chat with family or neighbors during the long winter evenings and bring in extra income.

There are still many railroad bridges on that stretch of RD 704

Things changed dramatically in 1937 when the SNCF was created to merge and operate all French rail companies. The Gourdon-Sarlat line stopped transporting passengers in 1938 and freight traffic ceased two years later. Most of the rails were pulled from the tracks and melted down to be used for weapons in WWII. From that point on, Dad and co. had to schlep their luggage from Gourdon to Payrignac on foot, a long hilly four-kilometer walk.

Saint-Cirq-Madelon then…

Saint-Cirq-Madelon now

The line was decommissioned in 1955 and SNCF subsequently started selling off the buildings along the way. The Payrignac, Saint-Cirq-Madelon, and Groléjac stations were purchased and transformed into private homes.

Mobile barrier at Saint-Cirq-Madelon

Original ties at Saint-Cirq-Madelon

I followed the line and stopped at all the old stations to take pictures and sometimes talk with their owners.

Payrignac was a cute fixer upper

The Payrignac station was fixed up many years ago and serves as a second home.

Vintage signal at Saint-Cirq-Madelon

More vintage equipment

The man who originally bought the Saint-Cirq-Madelon location still uses it as a second home. He has kept old signage and equipment as “décor” in his yard around the building.

Groléjac then

Groléjac now

The Groléjac station is now a workshop for a chaisier.

La Voie Verte: bike and foot path around Groléjac

Trains used to cross the river at Groléjac; now bikes and hikers use the same bridge.

The Dordogne département had a good idea and purchased all SNCF properties along the line. After removing the leftover tracks, they turned the rail bed between Groléjac and Sarlat into a piste cyclable that is used by hikers and cyclists.

The railroad bridge of Groléjac crosses the Dordogne river

Picture-perfect hamlet framed by an old bridge

A remarkable stone bridge crosses the Dordogne north of Groléjac. Smaller bridges arch over a scenic stretch of Route Départementale 704.

Carsac then…

Carsac now, with the bike path

The old Carsac station was turned into a primary school. It was the last stop before Sarlat.

Sarlat then…

Sarlat now

The Sarlat station is still in use. Bordeaux can be reached via regional train service (TER) in about 2 hours and 15 minutes.

These old signs seem to illustrate the competition between road and rail. Guess who won that battle…

It’s not difficult to know what the future holds for our remaining “local” stations in rural France. Most folks own cars nowadays but trains are vital for students and the elderly who rely on them to reach schools or medical specialists in larger cities. With privatization on the horizon, the trend in France is to favor regional hubs, especially those served by high-speed trains, and abandon smaller markets. Large train stations are being transformed into shopping malls; smaller ones may well become endangered species. Perhaps I should join the demonstrators in Gourdon and bring cheese and saucisson to the picnic…

Inside the gare de Gourdon, ceramic tiles tell the story

Vocabulary
La grève: strike
Le banlieusard: someone who lives in the suburbs
La France Profonde: lit. deep France; out in the country (way out…)
Le TGV: high-speed train (Très Grande Vitesse)
L’Intercités: (m) classic train between major cities
Le manifestant: demonstrator
La veillée: after dinner hours in the countryside, usually devoted to conversations between family members and/or neighbors that also included “productive” activities (knitting, mending clothes, shelling walnuts, etc.)
Le chaisier: someone who makes and restore old chairs
Le département: county
La piste cyclable: bicycle path
La route départementale: a road maintained by the département (county)
Le TER: Train Express Regional; a regional train that is not so “express” since it stops at many stations…

KITES AT LE BON MARCHÉ

Ah, the Parisian Grands Magasins, celebrated shopping institutions that seem to fend off a savage online competition! Their classic architecture, smart fashions, and enticing windows make them (almost) as popular as Mona Lisa with visitors of the capital.

My mother loved shoes and was partial to the Galeries Lafayette. Dad favored the BHV because of its superior offering in the bricolage department. Me? I gravitate toward Le Bon Marché. Il en faut pour tous les goûts.

Le Bon Marché is located near Sèvres-Babylone, on the Left Bank. Established in 1852, it was the very first department store in the world and inspired Emile Zola to write his novel Au Bonheur des Dames. It’s the smallest and, in my mind, the quietest of the four main department stores in Paris. Occupational hazard always led me to La Grande Epicerie, their excellent gourmet store located on the west side of rue du Bac: if they displayed a brand I already carried, it validated the selection I had included in the Joie de Vivre catalog.

I’m also a big fan of their windows. They remind me of shadowboxes. Quite small compared to the floor to ceiling vitrines at Le Printemps or GL, they force the merchandisers to tell a simple story: stylish, humorous, playful. But what I really, really love is the natural light that bathes the main floor: a large atrium topped by a splendid glass and steel verrière, flanked by elegant white escalators. It’s a fantastic space for bold art exhibits, like this poetic cloud of kites that I captured on film while riding one of the escalators. Who said that commerce and culture can’t mix?

Vocabulary
Le grand magasin: department store
Le bricolage: home improvement
Il en faut pour tous les goûts: to each his own
La vitrine: window display
La verrière: glass roof

BIR-HAKEIM TO PASSY

I am young enough to remember public transportation in Paris before the RER was established. At that time, the fastest way to cross the city East to West was to use métro Line 1 between Porte de Vincennes and Porte Maillot. It’s still a favorite among visitors since it perfectly slices the center of Paris and stops at many of the “three-star” attractions like le Louvre, le Palais Royal, la place de la Concorde, les Champs-Elysées, and l’Arc de Triomphe.

 For a change of pace and scenery, I invite you to use Line 6 between Nation and Charles de Gaulle-Etoile. Assuming the RATP is not on strike, of course… Although it takes a bit more time than the direct route offered by Line 1, almost half of this line is aérien: running above ground instead of tunneling in the dark, it gives you excellent views of the Seine, several monuments, and diverse architectural styles of apartment buildings.

 As you can see in my video, the moment parfait on this line is arguably the section between Bir-Hakeim and Passy. Take a seat on the right side of the car and you’ll get a spectacular look at the Eiffel Tower and the Seine as the métro crosses the river on viaduct de Passy. Day or night, it’s quite a treat.

 This is the first of my Moments Parfaits videos but I’m preparing several “flicks” and accompanying stories; I’ll upload them in the very near future. Tell me what you think and watch this space!