mercredi apres-midi pour les enfants Thursday, Nov 19 2009

Mercredi après midi pour les enfants Parisian style

Little Buddha and little lion had the excellent opportunity to attend cooking class at cordon bleu .  The famous cooking school runs a Wednesday afternoon cooking school for the young residents of this gastronomic city.  Our guys love to cook and our lives tend to revolve around the kitchen, but they were unsure about going to the famous cooking school and attending classes in French.  On a Wednesday afternoon this autumn, we took the metro to the quiet neighborhood which houses the academy.  Upon arriving, they were given their chef attire, aprons, towels and toque blanche (though, theirs were not so tall).  They were excited but apprehensive as they set off with their nouveaux copains and their French chef, Philippe Clergue.

Two hours later, we arrived to meet two very satisfied looking young chefs complete with large white boxes containing the fruits of their labor.  All the way home, they couldn’t stop sharing their experiences.  The chef was fabulous.  They got to do everything themselves and it was all made from scratch.  They made petits pains garnis provencaux (or, bread rolls with Provencal filling).   In the space of an afternoon, this chef had instilled in them the French passion for doing it the ‘right way,’ using the best ingredients, working hard and taking pride in the products of your hard labor.

These classes are run throughout the year on Wednesday afternoons.  Younger and older group.  There are  programs organized by other groups in the city as well but we liked idea of sending them to a true cooking institution.

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nouveau beaujolais 2009 Thursday, Nov 19 2009

What a spectacular day!

Clear, crisp, sunny—the perfect late fall day for a wine fete.  It really feels like a harvest celebration.  Always the third Thursday of November, the day is awaited with much fanfare–an excuse to have a fete not really about wine as much as having fun, celebrating the harvest and being together.

As you begin your day, all the windows are filled with the much anticipated announcement, “nouveau beaujolais est arrivee!!”  By lunch, the restaurants are filled with people enjoying the first glasses of this year’s harvest.   Some of the larger establishments serve it from wooden casks but most just let it flow straight from the bottles.  It is a light wine, served cool and meant to be enjoyed immediately; no aging involved.

We enjoyed an afternoon glass at au Pied du Couchon as they were readying for an evening fete complete with music and a buffet.  This evening we enjoyed a bottle at our favorite Le Bizuth.  Once again, you have a sense of being a part of something bigger, knowing that all throughout the country, people are doing as you are, enjoying a glass and reflecting on the harvest and the season ahead.

So, whether in France or the US, grab a few bottles (they sell out quickly and once gone, they are gone), get some friends and enjoy a great evening.

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sitting by the dock of the bay Sunday, Nov 15 2009

People always talk about the fabulous spring in Paris but autumn has been absolutely magical.  As you walk the streets in the early fall, your senses are overwhelmed by the sweet smells of late summer and the overwhelming sense of the ongoing harvest.  As we move into late fall, the low sun shines through the thin clouds and the atmoshphere is thick with the heavy smell of  damp leaves and fires which are warming the apartments all around the city.

Some of my favorite moments this fall have been walking through the city with no particular destination in mind and enjoying letting my senses lead the way.  On one particular Sunday, we were out for a walk headed towards ile de St Louis and Notre Dame.  Crossing the wooden pedistrain bridge mid-afternoon, the sun shined brightly on the seine as street performers entertained tourists, returning students, and families out to enjoy the day.  On this particular day, there was an excellent jazz ensemble playing Otis Redding’s, “sitting by the dock of the bay.”  The moment was caught as a snapshot in my mind and will forever be replayed as the perfect early fall day.

Our time here as been filled with moments like these, picture perfect moments that happen, these are not contrived moments.  So often, as Americans we get so caught up in manufacturing our lives, that we forget to let it happen.  This has really been the most remarkable part of our visit.  Whether out for an afternoon activity, running to the market in the morning, going to the theater or dinner, Paris demands that we stop and just take in the moment.

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french train mishap Sunday, Nov 15 2009

My love affair with the french rail system may be coming to an end, I’m afraid.  As big dude has pointed out, I think we’ve run out of train luck.   I have been singing the praises of the french rail system since we arrived 2 months ago and all of my french friends have given me a hard time, but these past two weeks, we experienced what they roll their eye about while listening to my praises of the system.

We were in Normandy and had an evening train back to paris.  We made it to the station just ahead of schedule and promptly got settled in our car.   Being happy to relax after two fun but exhausting days, I did not realize right away that we were late in leaving the station.  When I finally looked at my watch, we were already 30 minutes delayed.  Just as we were getting restless, a rail worker came on to announce that our train was experiencing engine difficulties, i.e. wouldn’t start.   We were told a train would be arriving shortly to take us to Liseux to catch a train that would leave there in about 1 1/2 hours.  As we left our train to board the next one taking us Liseux, we quickly realized it wasn’t a train at all but a commuter rail train and there were only 2 cars.  While rushing like everyone else to secure places on this train, I assumed there must be some mistake: they couldn’t be attempting to load a 10 car highspeed train full of families traveling back to paris after vacances into 2 subway cars???!!!!but they were.  After we loaded on like sardines and waited 20 minutes with no air and listening to a pack of drunk 17 year olds singing about the faults of the french rail system and government, we were told that there was actually another train that would take us.  We all had to pile out again, it was now quite dark and I almost lost little lion.  We all piled into a double decker: no more room and still no air.  Finally after waiting another 30 minutes, the train departed for Liseux.  luckily only a 20 minute ride.  At Liseux, we waited for 30 minutes for the train for Paris to finally arrive.  But at least we got to stand outside in the fresh air.

This train stopped two more times for technical difficulties but finally we arrived in Paris just before midnight, 3 1/2 hours late.  There was a SNCF representative at the station to greet us with a voucher for a refund/free ticket for travel.  At least in France when the trains fail, they compensate you immediately and without question.

Little buddha had the best answer of all–he spend the last hour of the journey meditating–what else is there to do?

Last week, our luck was again tested with our trip to Monte Carlo.  On the way back to Paris, our train was continuously stopped and delayed at stations for police inspections, no one explained why, it just was.  We were nearly 2 hours late but they offered free sandwiches for our trouble……..

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bon marche: bon dimanche Sunday, Nov 15 2009

The Sunday organic market on rue Raspeil has quickly grown to be one of our favorite traditions in our short time in Paris.  I find myself planning our weekends so that we are in paris for market day.  Little lion and little buddha and I usually hit the market together.  The abundance of fresh produce, cheese, meat etc is overwhelming.  We are not the only ones for whom this is a Sunday tradition. Parisians from all walks of life seem to land in this market.  There are children learning to pick just the right head of lettuce for sunday dinner; today I witnesed a family take literally ten minutes picking just the right one.  The whole family was in on the search much the way we would choose a pumkin for the family jack-o-lantern in the US.  In addtion, there are roving musicians, students, tourists and of course gypsies.

The are probably 100 vendors, vegetables, fruit, bread,cheese, buthcher, fish, herbs, etc. Some stands you pick your own items, some you request what you’d like.  When requesting from the attendants, you will always be asked when you plan to use it, guaranteeing that it will be perfectly ripe when you use it.  And for the cheese, you are asked what type of age you’d like it to have, would you like it hard or soft, etc.

And there is not just food.  You can also purchase hand-made soaps from Marseille, handi-crafts, table linens, scarves and much more.  There are also seasonal treats to be enjoyed.  As the fall has progressed, we have enjoyed pear and apple cider, hot chocolate, and our favorite, the pumpkin tarts which are homemade and warmed for you a large iron skillets or packed up for d’emporter.

We have witnessed this market tradition in every city, town, village and hamlet where we have traveled in France.  The markets are the center of life.  People come to get their fresh ingredients; but it is more, it is a community, a place where people communicate, check in with one another, exchange recipes and ideas.  It is this sense of community and tradition that is so lacking in the US.  There are farmer’s markets now in many parts of the US, though many of them are only seasonal, but it doesn’t have the same tradition.  In the US, there is a sense that the farmer’s markets are simply another yuppie trend.  They are a place where people can be seen and say that they bought their expense organic produce. I have known of more than one person who has gone to local market to purchase their organic produce only to stop for fast food on the way home to serve their children who will not eat the produce from the farmer’s market.

The farmer’s market in France is a way of life: it is not about being seen, it is about getting the freshest and best ingredients for your meal.  It is not about making a political statement or achieving a picture, it is about tradition and slowing down to enjoy the process of shopping for ingredients, preparing meals and enjoying eating.

And always, having completed your purchases you are bid farewell with “Bon Marche et bon dimanche!” and as you leave the market with the smell of fresh galettes, fresh cider and gypsie fiddles in the background in the cool crisp air of fall, you feel as though for a moment you are part of the tradition.

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mr. rock and roll comes to town and we shop Saturday, Nov 7 2009

Shopping has been ruined forever….

Nowhere is shopping so amazing as in paris.  The experience is fabulous in every respect, whether window shopping, a delight for the visual senses or trying on handmade couture items, you feel as though you are part of a tradition.  The windows change constantly and they are designed to please and be inviting.  The items have the prices so that there is no need to  guess how much your favorite item will cost and no need to go in if it is beyond your budget.   When trying on clothes in a boutique, the keepers offer their opinion but do not push.  They offer opinions both wanted and unwanted.  In the end, however  you feel content with your purchase and that you arrived at it with thought and consideration.  There is still service in a way that we seldom experience in the US.

Mr. Rock and Roll was visiting recently and we had the good fortune to experience these pleasures.  We visited Christian Louboutin and after spending an afternoon trying on many pairs, styles etc, I settled on three.  Obviously, not a bargain in the fiscal department but at least I know that I will not see 16 pairs of my chaussures parading down the streets of good ole USA.  They were manufactured only for France and the European markets and only certain number of each are produced.  (And on that note, always purchase when you find that perfect something.  Items are limited in size and when they are gone, non plus.)

Another day, we decided to look for lingerie.  I found a spectacular little spot just down the road, on rue Grenelle.  The items are handmade in Belgium.  The proprietress was super.  She left us to browse and when I decided to ask for some things, she had many  suggestions but only presented them, not  pushy at all.  There was a special room with a chaise lounge for chouchou and the items were laid out for us to try.  She helped with sizes etc when I requested but again did not push.  Mr. R&R enjoyed watching the show while enjoying un café.  The items fit unbelievably well and we of course found a  few to take home.

These experiences have been repeated many times throughout my time here.  There is no feeling of mass production that you feel in the US.  Of course, the quality in the boutiques and with service vary, but for the most part here it is the entire experience.  Service, unbelievable quality, presentation and consumer satisfaction.

There is just that je ne sais quoi, that is so French.

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french waiters rule Friday, Nov 6 2009

Waiters make strong requests not suggestions but it has come to be very endearing to us.  Some of the most amusing moments we have had have been with the controlling French waiters.  Big dude has been told when to put napkins in his lap and we’ve been told what to order.  Like the waiter at Brasserie Lipp who would not permit big dude to order andouillette.  After repeatedly requesting it and being sure that he was pronouncing it correctly, the waiter finally explained to him “no you may not order,” and rubbing his stomach patiently explained that it is stomach and not sausage—the only organ meat mistake we have made and a much appreciated correction from the waiter.  Another time in a restaurant in a gare les petits garcons wanted “American cheeseburger’ and a salad but the waiter explained firmly that perhaps instead of the cheeseburger “ which we have plenty of in the US,” perhaps they should try the special a steak with a salad and frites because the salad is big and the cheeseburger too, it might be too much.  Thank you monsieur waiter, but we have not eaten today and ridden 6 horses and we will take the salad and cheeseburger.  And then dessert ohh lala.

On another evening, little dude ordered a chicken and mashed potato dish off the adult menu not the children’s and the waiter obliged but when he brought the bread basket, he explained to little dude, not too much bread because his meal would be quite large.  It is fabulous in a French restaurant you do not even have to parent because the waiters will monitor it for you!!!

And they most certainly never put your food down in front of you until you have placed your napkin in your lap.

And at least once week, big dude gets the hairy eyeball at best and a non on bad days  from the bar/brasserie  at the corner when he goes to pick up lunch–NB do not try to order 4 of anything that is running low.

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les greves Friday, Nov 6 2009

A couple of weeks ago, big dude and I headed to Bourg en Bresse on the train to look at some horses.  Having made our reservations at the last minute, we had to take a route that took us through Lyon with a transfer.  No problem.  We enjoyed a pleasant and uneventful ride to Lyon, however when we got off our train, our connecting train was not to be found on the board in the station.  Not having a long connection time, I went straight to the information center–to be told that yes, in fact, there was no train to  bourg en bresse– “une greve aujourd’hui.”  We would have to take a bus–the next one was in about 1 hour, which would make us too late for our meeting.  Luckily we caught a ride with a friend and weren’t really negatively impacted.  What is odd about this situation, however, is the calm that surrounds les greves.  No one announced it before we left Paris, no one was complaining in Lyon, the French were just moving about their day and when we told other people about our situaiton they just replied, “ah, la greve aujourd’hui.”

This experience was repeated the following week when we were again at the train station.  We went into the librarie to have a look and I thought maybe I’d buy a newspaper.  There weren’t any on the shelves, however.  I assumed that because it was vacances and the trains were busy, they must have sold out.  A few moments later, I noticed an elderly gentleman come into the shop looking for his daily journal and when he inquired from the shopkeeper, the answer came, “une greve aujourd’hui.’  ”AH oui, la greve,” he replied nonchalantly.   As he turned slowly and ambled away, I couldn’t help wondering how would Americans respond if our industries just periodically striked for a day?

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Paris: halloween, day of the dead, and toussaint—Pere Lachaisse bien sur Sunday, Nov 1 2009

What better way to celebrate the culmination of this crazy week and these 3 spiritual days and a full-moon than with a visit to Pere Lachaise.  It was the perfect fall day–pale sun, the spectacular colors of the trees and gardens and colorful leaves blanketing the ground of the cemetary.

We set out after lunch to explore the cemetary and visit some of the famous graves.  In addition to those famous graves, though, there were many people there honoring the memory of their deceased family members.There were a number of elderly men and women who were there taking maintenance on the graves of their partners who have passed.  There are a number of graveyard cats patrolling and you feel as though you a barely tolerated guest in their world–they scurry past you, lurk in the shadows of 150 year old tombs, sit atop the monuments to the dead with a confidence that truly expresses that you are the intruder and they the occupants.

It is truly an amazing cemetary.  There are revolutionary figures buried there, resistance figures, artists, musicians, foreign soldiers who died fighting for France, a crematorium and thousands of families whose souls rest together in a sanctuary on a hill.   The gravesites are fantastic.  You feel as though you are in a museum as opposed to a place where people are buried. Some graves are even monuments that shoot up into the sky in honor of dead.  The enviornorment is actually quite peaceful.

It was the perfect way of remembering the dead and honoring the spirit life of this time of year when the energy of the worlds converge.

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living history Sunday, Nov 1 2009

In Paris, history is alive.  You can feel the buzz of vitality as you walk her streets and enter her squares.  As you walk into a square, the streets reverberate with the noises of 18th century life.  You can imagine courtesan women with their coachmen, dukes on their horses, members of clergy visiting families and intrigue all around.

Living in Saint Germain des Pres, we can’t walk out our door without experiencing history on a daily basis.  On these beautiful autumn days with our french windows open, we hear the bells of Saint-German eglise, the oldest church in Paris; walk past la petite chaise, the oldest restaurant in Paris, opened as an inn in 1680, Dumas wrote here, rue du Bac was the 18th century hub of artistic life as was St Germain in the early 20th century.  We sit at les Deux Margots or Cafe Flore and feel the creative vibes of some of greatest figures in modern literature.

People want to know what to do with children in Paris?  The answer simple–anything.  A recent Wednesday afternoon, little dude, little buddha, and i went to musee d’Orsay.  Sketch pads in hand, their instructions were simple: pick an artist or piece of art to research.  Within no time, they had both found a painting and a sculpture they wanted to research.  We sat for a while and they sketched taking in the atmosphere of this gargantuan, history filled place.  We bought postcards of the pieces they chose to investigate and walked home with the Parisian commuters on a beautiful Wednesday evening in awe of the amount of history and art and culture one city holds.

Little Dude chose le chat noir as his painting, so we set out later in the week to Montmarte to see the village where Théophile Alexandre Steinlen painted and the cabarets, Moulin Rouge, etc after reading about Steinlen and the scene on Montmartre at the turn of the last century.  While there, we went to the Montmartre cemetary and saw Dumas’ grave (which is now actually in the Pantheon) because Fishy has been reading Count of Monte Cristo and doing a project on Dumas.

Little Dude and little buddha are also doing a project on a french car and for that there is the Cite des Sciences et de l’Industrie where you can investigate french auto design.

Your choices are really endless and all you really need is a bit of imagination and patience and history comes alive.  You don’t need to take a side trip to Disneyland Paris when real life history is so colorful and exciting.

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