Made these from the Observation Deck, way up high . Click images for full size
The Only Place In Paris It’s Unseen!
Category: He Went To Paris
Photographs from a very favorite place and time. Nothing at all to do with the Jimmy Buffett song. Maybe related to the Diana Krall album “Live In Paris ” – maybe.
Paris Redux
My Curmudgeonly disregard for the noise of popular culture has, until recently, reduced my television time to new episodes of SNL, where I discover current popular culture. Emotionally thawing, I’ve lately (with the assistance of the Mute button during commercials) watched local 6 PM & and national 6:30 news.
7 PM curious, I discovered a post Notre Dame fire Rick Steve’s program on PBS about Paris – a very dear place to me. My sweetheart made it so – and especially Marais, where we and Rick, spent time a lot of time. Click images for full size.
California Wine, French Technology
A rare forecast of snow raised me from a nasty cold ennui to ensure I had sufficient supplies to weather the weather. Red wine was first on the list, for drinking and cooking. This is 5L for $17.99. Drinks and cooks well!
And because it’s in a plastic bladder, it doesn’t go to vinegar from oxidation – safe to keep for weeks! First learned of this shopping in a luxe market at La Defense, Paris at a 2004 IBM Global IT Conference. Booked into a very corporate Sofitel – far from the apartment in Marais where I later felt, home.
Finishing the current “Big Sipper” tonight before dinner (Pinot Noir), I was reminded of French viticulture practicality. The valve attached to the empty plastic bladder was made in France. They know a lot about wine.
Abigail Adams On The Paris Opera
Watching the Ken Burns film tonight about the American Revolution, put me back in a Paris Vacation Apartment, in Marais, after an evening at the Opera for the 50th Anniversary of Balanchine’s Ballet “Jewels”. I was coincidentally reading David McCulloughs biography of “John Adams”. This is an excerpt from Abigail Adams letter of 20 Feb. 1785:
My Dear Sister,
The first dance which I saw upon the Stage shoked me, the Dress’es and Beauty of the performers was enchanting, but no sooner did the Dance commence, than I felt my delicacy wounded, and I was ashamed to bee seen to look at them. Girls cloathd in the thinest Silk: and Gauze, with their peticoats short Springing two foot from the floor poising themselves in the air, with their feet flying, and as perfectly shewing their Garters and draws, as tho no peticoat had been worn, was a sight altogether new to me. Their motions are as light as air and as quick as lightning. They balance themselves to astonishment. No description can equal the reality.
They are daily trained to it from early infancy, at a Royal academy instituted for this purpose. You will very often see little creatures not more than 7 or 8 years old as undauntedly performing their parts as the eldest amongst them. Shall I speak a Truth and say that repeatedly seeing these Dances has worn of that disgust which I first felt, and that I see them now with pleasure. …. The art of dancing is carried to the highest degree of perfection that it is capable of; at the opera
I have Scarcly room left to say that I am Your affectionate sister
A.A
Something Fishy!
Sunday evenings tend to memory – favorites. This market, in walking distance from our vacation apartment, was a favorite place to shop, with my sweetheart. Way different than Harris-Teeter.
And I promise, walk along Rue De Rivoli with Leeks and a Baguette poking up from a shopping bag, dressed like Americans and a tourist will ask, in English, for directions.
I’d say, stifling a smirk, “Parlez vous francais?” And get an admonishing poke in the rib from my sweetie (who had no French at all, even my pathetic skill). “Yes”, she’d say, in English, “Where do you want to go?”
Marché Bastille, Paris – Sept 2016
Walk Along A Country Road -Redux
Some memories, persist. Maybe due to Sunday quiet. Or old age. Or both.
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In this Sunday memory, Departmental Road 9, Belleau, Departement de l’Aisne (France), FR. It was a Monday in Sept. of 2017, 99 years after War.
The local American / French Museum was closed, so we walked along farm roads in gorgeous late September sunshine and quiet, to our destination.
You can get there easily from Paris, by Metro to Gare de l’Est, then express train to Château-Thierry and local taxi to Belleau. And can walk the battlefield in silence. Click images for full size.
Sweet Memory
I was sharing old secrets today with my neighbor & BFF. Which inevitably led to stories of the good part of this old life, strolling hand in hand with my soulmate in Paris. Notre Dame, September of 2016 – before the fire. From Tour Montparnasse.
Garden Of Stone
Aisne-Marne American Cemetery – Belleau, France
Made this photograph in late September of 2o17. From St. Paul Metro Station in the Marais District of Paris, it’s a short ride to Gare Est. Then, a morning express train to Château-Thierry. Next, a local taxi.
99 years after the Battle of Belleau Wood and 1 year before the American President, in Paris, chose not to attend the Centennial Memorial. It was attended by the Commandant of the Unites States Marine Corps. And Marines.
On my visit, I walked the Battlefield in silence and solitude. The American President who dishonored Marines, I do not forgive.
Cognition
The news today included a strike by Employees of the Louvre. 45 years ago, newly discharged from the U.S.N, luck found me attending a large group (required for Ed. Majors) lecture class at the College of Charleston. The Prof was Tony Jansen . I was young and full of my salty sailor self and stupidly blew off his insight and brilliance. I was making Art, he was just talking about it! ‘Cept he knew and studied and thought a helluva lot more than I had.
And even then, the “Mona Lisa” at the Louvre had gone beyond iconic. I think it was 2007, first visit and it was a mob. Good luck actually being able to see the painting. Today, with selfies, pointless and intolerable. I do recommend the Musee D’Orsay, Wed. mornings and a Visite Pass. You’ll have about 20 minutes on the fifth floor before the selfie crowd.
It is, about the food. It is!
My days are often spent planning and making, a good meal. I would KILL for my Mothers Chicken Paprikash – serious Hungarian wonderfulness
I Lied! Another Post!
I’ve lost the news article today that quoted residents of Le Marais about the recent ban on smoking cigarettes. And it’s been awhile (2017) since taking a vacation in that hood. Still, it felt like home. The history is sobering.
Click an image for full size
Walk Along A Country Road
In this Sunday memory, Departmental Road 9, Belleau, Departement de l’Aisne (France), FR. It was a Monday in Sept. of 2017, 99 years after War.
The local American / French Museum was closed, so we walked along farm roads in gorgeous late September sunshine and quiet, to our destination.
You can get there easily from Paris, by Metro to Gare de l’Est, then express train to Château-Thierry and local taxi to Belleau. And can walk the battlefield in silence. Click images for full size.
He Went To Paris – II
The Musée d’Orsay is a very favorite place – so much so, my late sweetheart tolerated me spending three consecutive days, exploring.
This 1/16th scale casting, ordered by the Sculptor Auguste Bartholdi in 1899 stunned me. It predates the inscribed poem by Emma Lazarus at the base of the full size version in New York Harbor.
Driving on errands today, I listened to Willie Nelson sing “Living in the Promiseland“. It reminded me of the poem by Ms Lazarus.
He Went To Paris
Paris is hard to explain. Atop Tour Montparnasse is, I think, a good place to begin. And the Châtelet Metro station, with “Prelude To Paris ” playing. These from 2016 & 2017. Late September is wonderful.
Click images for full size
Parisian Dreams – Redux!
Discovered today, my research was real wrong and the chocolate shop, “Maison Georges Larnicol” at 14 Rue de Rivoli in Paris is still there! Dieu merci!
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There was and is, a “corner joint”, Le Bûcheron, just down the stairs and around the corner, from an apartment on Rue Ferdinand Duval, Paris.
Searching today, I discovered the Chocolate Shop next door is no more. Post dinner, it was a wonderful stop before late evening home.
The meals and memories, are delicious
Parisian Dreams
There was and is, a “corner joint”, Le Bûcheron, just down the stairs and around the corner, from an apartment on Rue Ferdinand Duval, Paris.
Searching today, I discovered the Chocolate Shop next door is no more. Post dinner, it was a wonderful stop before late evening home.
The meals and memories, are delicious
Better Than Chicken Soup
On the recovery side of a nasty head cold (yes, I’m current on Covid, Flu, Pneumonia and Pertussis vaccines), this was delivered today. Last time there, the Gift Shop didn’t have my size. The Paris Opera is a cherished memory and my late sweetheart’s chosen topic of the last lucid conversation we had. It was the 50th Anniversary performance of the Balanchine Ballet “Jewels”, in good loge seats and a fine late supper on Blvd. Hausmann before the Metro, back to our apt. in Marais. The memory and sweatshirt offer comfort. Like the “Cary Ballet Company” sweatshirt I’m wearing. A gift I’m proud of, from CBC.
World Record & A Lot of Dough!
I’ve carried more than one baguette back to a Paris apartment. Including the one missing from my photograph, which we’d just bought.
Double Whammy
The opening Clarinet glissando in Gershwin’s “Rhapsody In Blue”, I love – as did and does, United Airlines.
And had me guessing if it was possible with a Trumpet, during last night’s performance by the Cary Ballet Company of “Who Cares”. A Google search assures me, a Trumpet is capable of a glissando.
This Foolish Heart
Today, my eMail had an announcement of a new record. Yes, I’m ancient. La chanson des vieux amants.
Musee Rodin is – wonderful. There is a terra cotta bust on the second floor that had me remembering to breathe. Paris, Ballet and Music – just take me now Great Spirit
True Confessions
Palais Garnier, Paris
True Confession: I tuned to watch the 2014 SuperBowl for the sole reason of hearing Renee Fleming sing. Football – meh.
Today, eMail brought me the 2024/2025 Paris Opera Season Programme (once you buy Tickets online, you’re on the email list).
Ms Fleming will perform next March, in 2025. If the Boss Lady was still alive, I’d be scheming to sell her that we could afford the plane tickets plus we really should visit Paris. I’d sell her with this excursion: Chihuly At Biltmore . She was a ginormous fan!
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