The Merry Month of May

The month of May in France is frequently a logistical challenge for school schedules, work schedules, even for visiting tourists, because there are several important national and religious holidays that can bring the country almost to a halt. May 1st "May Day" begins the month, followed a week later by the celebration of the end of WWII on May 8, followed the next week by Ascension Day, an important day in the Christian faith. When these holidays fall on either a Tuesday or a Thursday (as they ALL did this year), then many people take the Monday or the Friday off in order to have a four day weekend. They call it "le pont" (the bridge), and it's an entirely acceptable way of life here.


So it was that on Monday May 7th (the day before la Fête de l'Armistice), these three charming school children were not at their École Maternelle in Paris, but were instead with us at the small town of Villedieu-les-Poêles in Normandy, where brass and copper foundries/ateliers and lace making workshops continue the medieval traditions of the region.

Today, the local Chamber of Commerce has devised an amusing and informative game for children. Clad in green medieval capes, and armed with compasses and binoculars, they are sent out around the town in pursuit of a copper thief.







Looking like three little hobbits, they scoured every little nook and cobbled walkway in search of clues to unmask the dastardly thief. So, even though they were missing a school day, they learned how to use a compass, follow directions and have a whole lot of fun, all the while absorbing the history of the area.





The adults followed along happily and we were particularly pleased when the hunt led us to the Atelier du Cuivre, a vast, skylit copper workshop, where artisans have been manufacturing copper pots, pans and other essentials for a few hundred years. We were offered a fascinating tour of the process that transforms the raw material into the most beautiful of items.




These copper wash basins caught my eye, gleaming softly in a corner.

As did this impressive row of hammers, used in the final shaping and stippling process.





In its sprawling size and the dedication of the workers, we were reminded of Idem, the lithograph studio in Paris, both places struggling to hold on to an art form that is in danger of disappearing.








I tried to offer my support by buying this adorable little "saucier" for my next Sauce Béarnaise . (It was the only size I could comfortably handle!)


Last Thursday, May 17, was Ascension Day, and we went to Carentan, Normandy to visit friends for a couple of days. The train was packed, including many families with school age children going for a 4-day weekend, ie taking "le pont" and getting an extra day off!


Our friends live in the tiny village of Pétrot–Sainte-Suzanne deep in the heart of the Cotentin, a bucolic rural area with landscapes that make you feel you are in a Corot or a Constable painting. Agriculture is the main business at hand (think cows, then milk, butter, cheese!).





Along the lanes, the hedgerows are full of the usual buttercups, forget-me-nots and other familiar country flowers, but every now and then something more exotic crops up, like this beautiful wild orchid.





Cotentin itself is a peninsula in the Département de Manche, Basse-Normandie, with the big bustling seaport of Cherbourg at its tip. Tourists pour off the cross-channel ferries. Some take the road to Utah Beach on the south-eastern coast of the peninsula, site of the American Normandy landings in D-Day, but most tend to head inland or south, missing a chance to experience another interesting part of France.



Luckily for us, staying right in the heart of the area, and with our friends as guides, we got to explore both sides of the peninsula, starting at Barnville-Cataret, a seaside town on the western side, with an imposing stone lighthouse, complete with Fresnel lenses.




Looking out to sea, I was astonished to see the island of Jersey (one of the Channel Islands), right there, maybe 5 miles offshore, with Guernsey, Sark and the others just beyond!




A map mounted on the cliff laid them out for us. It's a real mystery to me how these islands ended up being under English jurisdiction, instead of French, but that's the way it is!!














Meanwhile, to our right, below the lighthouse, this beautiful, empty beach stretches for miles, bordered with sand dunes. It reminded us of Kehoe Beach in our very own Pt Reyes National Seashore.





Wandering along the water's edge, I quickly reverted to my beach combing ways, and found....













....cuttlebones of all sizes...




.


..and even a "mermaid's purse" - a shark egg case!







Heading the next day to the eastern coast town of Barfleur, we passed through many small towns and villages, most of which suffered huge bombardment damage in WWII following the Normandy landings. War memorials are omnipresent, not only for that struggle, but equally for WWI. This one struck us as particularly poignant - a dying soldier in the arms of "Mother France" honoring Armistice Day in 1918, with a fresh wreath for those lost in WWII.









Barfleur, with its imposing lighthouse...











...its equally imposing Church, perched atop the town...






...is also one of several thriving fishing ports along that stretch of coastline, with modern, state of the art vessels...






...and one old junk that looked as though it was the sister ship of The African Queen!








Oyster beds are also abundant in this part of the world, and are the first item on the menu at most restaurants. I cannot tell you how delicious these were nor how quickly they were consumed!




The houses in the old part of town, which largely survived both World Wars, are built from granite, as is the Church. In the grey, overcast light they give the town a somewhat severe look, but at the same time, a solid, permanent feel that is somehow reassuring. You feel these buildings will last forever.






Meanwhile, back at Prétot-Sainte-Suzanne, we made friends with Romeo...














...who happily sampled the "greener grass" from the other side of the fence...






...whilst one of his three "Juliettes" enjoyed a roll in the unexpected and most welcome sunshine!

I have to say, life is good here in the merry month of May.

À bientôt!

The Rites of Spring

Spring has finally "sprung"! After weeks of grey skies and way too much rain and cool temperatures, the sun emerged this past weekend, bathing the city and all its inhabitants in much-welcomed warmth. Cotton trousers have been unpacked, tee-shirts can be worn without a turtle neck, and bare toes are  at last seeing the light of day.

My first stop on Sunday was the oft-overlooked Musée Carnavalet tucked away in the Marais, in the 3rd arrondissement;  the museum that tells the history of the City of Paris.

Not surprisingly, a handsome statue of Louis XIV by Antoine Coysevox greets you in the entrance courtyard. In 1689 it used to stand before the Hôtel de Ville in Paris.

The buildings (from the 16th and 17th centuries) are two former private homes, acquired by the city during the Second Empire at the instigation of that busy fellow, Baron Haussmann. The museum opened its doors in 1880. Today, there are 100 plus rooms that recount the history of the city from pre-historic times to the present day.

Before I got to the temporary exhibition space and the photography show I was wanting to see, I spent some time poring over some of the models on display, especially this model of the Île de la Cité in the 16th century. You can see Notre Dame, standing tall, surrounded by densely packed houses, most of which are now gone. Ste Chapelle is there, a couple of bridges and some kind of tall building on the left bank, which is definitely no longer there!

But the Théâtre de la Gaîté, which dates from the 18th century can still be found on the rue du Temple. Now known as La Gaîté Lyrique, it still presents musical concerts, but definitely of a more modern nature than the founders had in mind. The current playlist includes Punk in Africa, and The Hives!

I was there Sunday to dive into late 19th/early 20th century Paris, as seen through the camera lens of photographer Eugène Atget. Some 230 of his photographs filled at least 8 or 9 rooms. He came to photography late, after some years as a merchant seaman and as an actor. He even tried painting. At age 40, he experimented with photography and found his life's work, documenting Paris life and culture.

Today, his images are icons, but during his lifetime, they didn't receive much attention. Towards the end of his life, Man Ray and Berenice Abbot took an interest in his work, recognizing the importance of cataloguing the life and times of a great city. They bought many of his photographs, published articles about his work and at his death undoubtedly influenced the Musée Carnavalet's acquisition of over 9000 of his images.

For me, the pleasure was to move slowly from one photograph to the next, standing as close as I could get so as not to miss any detail, and appreciating the simplicity of the poses but also the depth of information they contained.  Looking at this peddler's lampshades ("un abat-jour", new French word for me!), I wondered how much he charged for them, who bought them, how many he might sell in a day, how heavy they were to cart around on his back, and who had actually made them. He seems well dressed, so perhaps he made a decent living. Not like the "rag-and-bone" men who used to come through English towns in the 1950s!

In another celebrated image snapped on April 17, 1912, Atget captured a small group gathered at the Place de la Bastille to look (directly, it would appear!) at a solar eclipse that was passing over the opposite side of Paris.

After wandering through all the Atget galleries, lost in those early 20th century days, I remembered that the sun was shining here on Sunday as well, and strolled over to the Place des Vosges gardens, where a blade of grass was hard to come by. By the now, the signs that decorate all park lawns during winter "l'herbe en repose" (the grass is resting!) have been removed and one can sprawl to one's heart's content.

 Turning back into the Marais, I came across one of the largest temporary flea markets I've ever seen here, block after block, hundreds of stalls, selling the usual mixture of good quality, expensive stuff and complete rubbish...

..shoes in all sizes and in all conditions...

...unexpected objects of natural history...

...and some rather lonely-looking fur coats!

There was even a woman offering head massages, pleading, it seemed, for more customers.

Suddenly, the sound of drums caught everyone's attention. Marching down the street from the Place de la République came a huge parade, hundreds of participants, some walking, some riding in vehicles, led by a couple of official policemen, who were helped by parade monitors on roller blades. It was no small feat to navigate such a large crowd through a neighborhood that was already packed to the gills with flea market mavens.

Turns out it was Fair Pride Day 2012 on Sunday, reminding us of the importance of fair trade policies and good ethics in commerce, a noble if rather daunting cause!

That didn't stop the brightly-clad musicians from singing and banging, clapping and smiling as they marched along.

The warm sunshine certainly bolstered their spirits...

...although after 40 minutes or so of very raucous, boisterous yelling and stomping and drumming, I was sort of ready for a head massage myself!

Meanwhile, in another part of the city altogether, Matthew and friend Ed Koren took advantage of the beautiful day to bicycle across the Seine, over to Parc St. Cloud and on down through wooded trails and paths to Versailles and back, a mere 40 mile round trip!

There, just as in Paris, the whole world was out and about, boating on the bassins, lounging on the grass...

...while from the state rooms of the Chateau, the ghost of the Sun King himself must surely have also been looking on, smiling benevolently at his wondrous creation, although he must have wondered where all these people came from.

Two days later, at the Hôtel de Ville in Paris, he probably would not have been smiling, as crowds gathered to celebrate the arrival of the new Socialist President François Hollande, paying his inaugural visit with the Socialist Mayor of Paris, Bertrand Delanoë.

Flags of the European Union were held high, alongside the Socialist Party flag...

...the Cavalry got into position to form a welcoming Guard of Honor...

...and people waited patiently, even as the sun disappeared, and a bank of dense clouds loomed overhead.

Seconds later a fierce windy hail storm swept over us all, turning umbrellas inside out, and making instant friends of those who came unprepared and had to huddle with strangers to stay dry.

Just as quickly the storm blew over and President Hollande arrived, but with the sea of phone-clad hands raised in front of me, I really couldn't see a thing!

I contented myself with watching the big jumbo screen, set up in front of the Hôtel de Ville, as Mayor Delanoë welcomed President Hollande inside the sumptuous grand salon with all the pomp and circumstance of a royal wedding.

 

La Marseillaise was sung with much gusto by both the invited dignitaries inside, and the enthusiastic crowd outside. Very stirring, you could feel the excitement. For many the line "le jour de gloire est arrivé" had special meaning. Hollande is the first Socialist President since the other François (Mitterand), who served from 1981 to 1995. He takes over the reins of power in a very different world. Bonne chance, M. le Président!

Meanwhile, it's raining...again...

À bientôt!