Category Archives: Paris

France, French customs, Paris

Powerwalking to Pont Neuf – Part 1

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Not that the Pont Neuf’s really new – in fact it’s the oldest remaining bridge in Paris – but it was new at the time so that was what it was spontaneously called. If you’ve ever been to Venice and seen the Ponte Vecchio, you’ll have an idea of what most bridges used to look like in mediaeval days. The Pont Neuf, completed in 1607 during the reign of Henri IV (which is why there’s a statue of him halfway across) was the first bridge not to be covered. It was recently renovated and is now nice and new again.

Anyway, I decided to go in the opposite direction today, starting with the Galérie des Proues (as in prow ergo all the anchors) which is the only remaining part of Richelieu’s palace which is how the Palais Royal all started. Then past the Buren columns and Arago’s meridian plaque, across Rue de Rivoli and through the first part of the Louvre until I reached the glass pyramids which are stunning on a sunny day. Down to the left and into the Place Carrée with another fountain. Right towards the river, opposite the Pont des Arts where they have the padlocks and left down towards the Hôtel de Ville.

I think everyone’s heard the jokes about tourists mistaking the town hall (Hôtel de Ville) for a place to stay, but Actor Brother, who’s a country boy at heart, went one better. It was his first time in France and he’d rented a car and headed south (with his 12-year old son sitting in the back chanting his mantra “Dad, right is right, left is wrong”). It was getting late and he couldn’t find a hotel. Being Australian, he was expecting to see a motel appear at any time. Finally, he saw a big sign, “Hôtel de Police”. He headed off the highway, followed the directions and found himself in front of an unlikely looking building but, you know, it was France, and you could expect anything.

As he walked in, with his son close behind him, he realised something was wrong. “Euh, un hôtel?” he said in his basic French. The gendarme looked at him rather blankly but fortunately, a very helpful lady realised what was wrong and directed him to a more suitable place to spend the night than in the police lock-up!

But the one I was walking towards is not the “mega hôtel de ville” as Leonardo so aptly used to call the palatial building opposite Notre Dame that is home to the Mayor of Paris, but the town hall for the 1st arrondissement. It’s still not bad as far as neo-renaissance buildings go. Black Cat has got her heart set on getting married there, but she’ll have to get a move on because once Relationnel retires and we move to Blois, it’ll be too late.

In France, there’s none of that getting-married-in-a-garden-or-on-the-beach business that goes on in Australia. Here, you can only get married in the town hall of the place of residence of one of the spouses (or their parents if you can claim you’re still living at home). And having a church wedding doesn’t do away with the civil ceremony either which can complicate the logistics a bit.

I was going to tell you about the church of Saint Germain l’Auxerrois next door, a favourite with Valois royal family in Renaissance times, but I got a bit distracted and I wouldn’t like leave out any of the interesting bits so it’ll have to wait for next time.

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Australia, Cycling, Food, France, French customs, Loire Valley, Paris, Wine

A to Z in the Life of an Aussie in France

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Enjoy my A to Z and don’t forget to click on the links for more …

A – Aussie: How else could I begin? Aussies come from Oz or the Land Downunder where I was born and bred.

B – Blois: In the middle of the Loire Valley, where we’re in the process of buying a house built in 1584 which we’ll be renting out as self-catering holiday accommodation until the NEW ADVENTURE in my life starts in June 2014.

C – Cycling: Our favourite activity from April until October in France and wherever. Next trip: Paris to London once they’ve completed the bike route for the London Olympic Games.

A bike path around the city of Innsbruck

D – Down Under: Not the Land, but the book by Bill Bryson. Full of clichés, but most of them are just so true! And a good read any time.

E – Early bird: Which I’m not, but it’s the only way to beat the tourists and I hate standing in line! And that’s what siestas are for.

F – Foie Gras: One of my very favourite foods and that I now know how to make.

G – Garret: Where I thought I was living when I first moved to France, even though it was just a room in a third floor apartment.

H – Home Exchange: Our new way of holidaying. First stop Madrid and lots of exchanges planned for Australia, some simultaneous, some not.

I – iPhone: Something I’m crazy about and which can certainly make life easier on holidays. Perfect for Twitter and Facebook too.

J – Jam-packed: The metro at peak hour so why not take the bus instead and be a real Parisienne?

K – Kilos: The 20 I have lost and never intend to put back on!

L – Loire Valley: Land of kings and queens and castles. Our future home. Less than 2 hours’ drive from Paris.

Chambord in the Loire Valley

M – Mushrooms: Our second favourite activity after cycling, from April to December. But next year we’re heading for Provence in January to check out the truffle market!

N – Natural skinnies: The people who don’t ever have to lose 20 kilos.

O – Oysters: Another of my favourite foods, especially on Sundays – “spéciales” with fresh homemade bread and a lovely cold bottle of Sancerre.

P – Palais Royal: My home for another two years and for the last seven. Right in the middle, with a view of fountain from my balcony, directly above Miss Bibi!

Q – Queensland: Where I was born, in the tropics, a true-blue Banana Bender!

R – Relationnel: My very French husband whom I cycle, pick mushrooms and travel with. Among other things.

S – Summer time: The very best time of the year, when it’s still light at 11 pm and the days seem to go on forever.

T – Tuileries Gardens: Where I power walk, lunch with friends and Relationnel, and watch the sun set over the Louvre.

U – University: Where I’m still teaching translation, despite the sad lack of equipment and outdated installations.

V – Vélib’: Paris’ rent-a-bike system that’s immensely popular with Parisians and great fun along the Seine on Sundays when the road’s closed to traffic.

W – Wolves: To be found in the Palais Royal only when it snows.

Snow in the Palais Royal Gardens in December 2010

X – Xtraordinary: What everyone in Australia thinks my life is, what with living in a Royal Palace and speaking French all the time, but they don’t know how hard it really is!

Y – You-tube: The very best way to learn anything these days, particularly all that new technology and how to set up a blog.

Z – Ze only way most French people know how to say “th”, including Relationnel, giving them a highly recognizable accent.

 

Lifestyle, Paris

Twitter Twitter Little Star

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Until I started blogging last October, I didn’t even know what Twitter was. Not that I’d taken much interest. But my “how to become an expert blogger” course said it was important to sign up to as many social media as possible. So I asked Black Cat about it (she’s a communications manager after all so she should know) and started checking it out. Basically the purpose of Twitter is to write short updates on your life/job in 140 characters or less including spaces. To do so, you have to have a Twitter account and a Twitter handle. My is AussieFrance, for example.

Who reads the tweets, as they are called? Your “followers” do. Whose tweets do you read? Those that you are “following”. How do you follow people and how do they follow you? Well, after you’ve created your Twitter account, by going on www.twitter.com, you fill in your profile. The idea is to introduce yourself in a few snappy words. My profile is “Insights into the French way of life by Fraussie, an Australian living in France. Love reading, writing, travelling, wine, cycling & mushrooms.” followed by Paris, and my blog address.

I don’t know how “snappy” it is but I figure it contains most of the information people need to know about me. Now, if you go onto # Discover, you’ll get a few prompts such as “Who to follow” and “Find friends”. The “Who to follow” is based on people with similar profiles. You can click on one of the little icons and see their profile. If you think you’d like to hear what they have to say, you click “Follow”. They will be notified by email and can either follow you in turn or not. They can be individuals such as me or organisations such as the NY Times or the Guardian, in which case, you’ll see Tweets about the latest news, etc.

If they are bloggers, they will probably be tweeting about their latest posts or something they sell. Once you are following someone, you can tweet them by name, using @. For example, if I want to check whether varieties of wine take a capital letter in English e.g. merlot or Merlot, I can check with Guardian style guide by selecting them and asking the question. They’re pretty good at answering even though they have 19,000 followers! One can only assume there’s more than one person … To reply, you simply click on reply!

There are other ways of finding followers but once you get the hang of it, it’s fairly simple. Once you’re following someone, you can check out who they’re following and follow suit. Another thing you can do is “Retweet” which is similar to the Facebook “Like”. You like someone else’s tweet so you retweet it to all your followers. Using a smart phone is the most useful way of reading and sending tweets. There are lots of applications. I use the official Twitter one. I downloaded TweetDeck as well but haven’t really taken the time to see how it works. Twitter seems more intuitive.

Then there are hashtags as in #. They’re used to mark keywords or topics in a Tweet so users can categorise messages e.g. if I’m tweeting about a restaurant in Paris, I can put a hash next to and other users can then click on it to find another tweets on the same restaurant. I don’t use hashtags much for the moment, but it’s my next move!

All that to explain that the new heading on the right of the blog “What I’m Doing” actually corresponds to my Tweets. The funny website addresses are a shortened form that happens automatically when you type in an URL. You can also use Bitly, for example, to do it for you. It saves a lot of space when you have very long addresses such as http://www.aussieinfrance.com/2012/01/washing-machines-i-have-known/ shortened to http://t.co/5g1LLC53!

My latest Twitter experience is a Tweet-up organised in Paris among English speakers. It was held at O-Chateau, a wine bar in rue Jean Jacques Rousseau, just down the road from me. It was great meeting up with people whom I’d already seen on Twitter, including two Australians – Andrea from www.destinationeurope.net and Carina from http://www.carams.fr/blog/. Don’t forget to check out the other blogs and sites in the column on the right from time to time.

And I’d love you to follow me on Twitter by clicking on the Follow AussieFrance button on the top right of the page.

Follow-up post: Little Bo Tweep

Lifestyle, Paris

I am not a real Parisienne

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Le Bon Marché founded in 1838 by the Videau brothers

Today, it was proved, once and for all, that I am not a real Parisienne. Primo (as the French say), I am not a shopper. Secundo, I went into Le Bon Marché department store in the chic 7th arrondissement for the first time and had never heard of 90% of the brand names in the women’s fashion department. Tertio (that’s even more suave), I took the bus home in the wrong direction. And worse, I asked the lady next to me which direction it was going in and STILL got it wrong. I obviously didn’t realise my mistake until I looked up and saw the Montparnasse Tower. I got out, crossed the road and missed the right bus by about 1 minute. Sigh. I cheered myself up by using my Mobiletag iPhone app to see when the next bus was coming.

The elegant escalators inside Le Bon Marché

I’ve thought about the shopping thing quite a lot and have come to the conclusion that it skips a generation. My mother adored shopping and Black Cat thrives on it as well. I get bored after I’ve looked at a couple of racks of clothes and trying on two items is about my maximum for the day. I’m always hot in the shop and to try something on you have to peel off endless layers in tiny cubicles that you can hardly turn around in and that never have enough hooks. I can put up with it if I go with Relationnel because he’s much more patient than me and will bring me things to try on so I don’t have to get dressed again to go outside the cubicle and have another look. The worst are trousers because you have to take your shoes off and lace them back on again.

Sad-looking sales dummies wearing "Soldes" round their necks.

It was OK last year after I’d finally taken off my 20 kilos because I got a kick out of the fact that most of the clothes I tried on fitted me and I didn’t look like a sack of potatoes any more. But, sadly, the novelty has worn off. It’s not that I don’t care about the clothes I wear – I do, and there’s the rub. What I prefer is to see something I immediately like in the window on a dummy, preferably with a head and more or less my shape so that I can immediately imagine what it will look like on me. Then I go in, ask for my size, try it on, see that it looks perfect, pay and leave. That has occasionally happened and when I set off, I’m always convinced it will happen again and sadly disappointed when it doesn’t.

 

Inside garden and café terrace at Le Bon Marché

As far as department stores go – and I am not a fan – Au Bon Marché isn’t bad. They play Mozart concertos over the PA system, all the shop assistants say “hello” to you even when you’re about the bump into them, they have an exhibition called “Lieux d’amour” or Places of Love, a reading room for impatient spouses and a swish-looking Salon de Thé with a garden terrace. I couldn’t believe it when I looked out the first floor windows. It was more like an apartment building than a shop.

But I couldn’t see anything I wanted to buy, especially not the fur jackets.

Places of Love exhibition at Le Bon Marché

When I was little, my mother used to buy things “on appro”. That meant that either she went into the shop, chose a few outfits she liked, got them all packed into bags and took them home with her, or else, she rang up the owner of the shop, told her what sort of occasion she needed the outfit for, and a taxi would arrive a half an hour later at the door with several large bags. I’d then lie on her bed and watch while she tried on everything, in the comfort of her room, with no other shoppers around and no annoying sales people telling her that she looked great even if see didn’t. She could put on the shoes or hat to match and decide in her own good time what she was and wasn’t going to keep.

Now, that’s the way I really want to shop ….

Au Bon Marché, 38 rue de Sèvres, 75007 Paris, 01 45 44 15 48
 
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French customs, Paris

Powerwalking in Winter Again

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I couldn’t believe it when I saw this guy. Here we have Brainy Pianist, experiencing his first winter in Paris, which hasn’t even been very cold this year – I even gave him some suitable Canadian headgear for Christmas to keep his ears warm when he takes the bus at 8 o’clock in the morning – and there we have this chap, in 5° and no shirt. But you’ll notice he does have a warm hat! Lots of people don’t like wearing them but they actually help to keep your entire body warm. Unfortunately I would have had to dash round very obviously in front of this guy to take a photo of his tattoos. Maybe they keep him warm too.

Here we have the shadowy Brainy Pianist, who wouldn’t want anyone to recognise him in that gear!

And here are the men in very masculine poses cleaning up my fountain in the Palais Royal Gardens. Now I have to tell you about the word “fountain”. I have this tendency to say “fontaine” in French but every time I say it, Relationnel corrects me. I’m supposed to say “jet d’eau” as in “jet of water”, because a “fontaine” is usually used for water spouting out of something like a fish’s mouth.

The birdman was out today in Tuileries Gardens. We used to have a very ancient bird lady in the Palais Royal but I haven’t seen her for a while. I personally wouldn’t like to have birds jumping on me leaving their souvenirs.

Today I power walked down the centre of the gardens because there weren’t so many people and, as a result, I got an excellent view of Yayoi Kusama’s Flowers that Bloom at Midnight, 2009. You must admit that it brightens up a winter’s day!

And, surprisingly, considering the temperature and the fact that it’s Monday, here’s the man who rents out the boats to the kids. He’s standing on the right because I think he saw me coming. He wasn’t having much success.

 

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Food, Paris, Wine

3 Places for an Apéritif in Paris

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When Relationnel and I go for an apéritif in Paris, we like to do it in style. We’ll never stay in the Hôtel Meurice or the Hôtel du Louvre or the Lutétia (because we live here!), but we can have a taste of luxury in their beautiful bars and indoor gardens.

Nibbles on the word game table

The Hôtel du Louvre, just opposite the museum as you can imagine, has a very comfortable lounge bar, Le Defender, (but no indoor garden). The starting price for a glass of wine is 14 euros for a graves or a macon up to 23.50 for a chateauneuf du pape or 29.50 for a mersault 1er cru,  accompanied by a selection of nibbles including delicious cheese sticks that you dip in guacomole or toasted bread with olive tapenade and salmon rillettes. I love the four corner tables, which each have a different word puzzle in French.

Café gourmand at Le Defender, Hôtel du Louvre

They also serve an excellent café gourmand (coffee or tea with a selection of mini pastries) for 9.50 euros. There’s a jazz band four times a week as well.  Last time we went there with friends, the waiter gave us the wrong bill – for a pot of tea instead of a glass of chablis, a glass of champagne and two Americanos. We pointed out the error and when he came back with the second bill, told us that customers with our honesty were rare so one of the Americanos was on the house!

The Meurice is not far away, on Rue de Rivoli. The décor in Bar 228 is much more sophisticated and so is the wine list. Lots of cocktails, but I’m a wine drinker so I’ll tell you about that. There’s an excellent Laroche chablis, a Gitton sancerre, a haut medoc and a mercurey for 16 euros and a puligny monrachet and pessac léognan 2004 for 25 euros. Drinks are served with three sorts of nibbles. They also have a piano and bass player.

The Lutetia, on boulevard Raspail on the Left Bank, is legendary for its Belle Epoque Art Deco style. The prices are about the same as the Meurice and there are also interesting nibbles. Obviously one of the places to be seen. You’re supposed to see all sorts of famous people there but I’m afraid I never manage to recognise anyone! We went there recently with friends after seeing the somewhat disappointing Pompei exhibition at the Maillol Museum.

Have you got any to recommend?

Hôtel du Louvre, Bar Le Defendeur, Place André Malraux, 75001 Paris
Le Meurice, Bar 228, 228 rue de Rivoli, 75001 Paris
Hôtel Lutetia, 45, boulevard Raspail , 75006 Paris
 
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French customs, Paris

Spring Windows in the Palais Royal

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It’s grey and miserable outside, even though it’s 13°, but with winter sales starting tomorrow, the spring windows have already appeared. I thought I’d try and cheer myself up by visiting some of the clothing shops in the Palais Royal.

But I was disappointed. Just look at this one. I’m stunned that anyone should choose to dress their window using such ugly mutts. But then I’m not really a dog lover. I used to be. When I was a kid, we had a half-corgi (the other half jumped the fence as my mother used to say) called Taffy whom I adored. I used to take him for long walks after school and talk to him in French. Unfortunately he developed heart worm, which is often the way in the tropics. One afternoon, I came home from uni. My parents were sitting under the honeysuckle trellis in the back yard looking very forlorn. “Taffy has to be put down (what a euphemism!). We’re not up to it so you and DrummerBrother have to take him to the vet.” Oh great! Ever obedient, we carried him sorrowfully to the car. I cried the whole way there and the whole way back. Funny how neither DrummerBrother or I have ever had a pet while ActorBrother (who was probably off catching snakes) has always had a dog …

Well, enough about dogs. I then walked down the other end of the gallery to see what Stella McCartney had to show. I really don’t think her windows are any better. The clothes are not even very attractive. However, I love the effect caused by the reflection of the fences along the Palais Royal. It’s not until you take the photo that you can actually see them. Seriously, would you be tempted to buy that dress on the right? And how come the dummies don’t have heads? The one in the picture above is bald. I don’t think that’s particularly seductive either!

The other window isn’t that much better. I suppose it’s a little more colourful but that’s about all. This isn’t your bottom of the range stuff. We’re looking at 700 euros for a dress and 350 for a pair of trousers. It’s not as bad as Jérôme Huillier admittedly. I didn’t even bother taking photos of their window. It all looks completely synthetic to me. I should console myself with the fact that I’m not tempted to buy anything! Except one of those little black dresses in La Petite Robe Noire, but they’re completely out of my market.

I’ll wait until the sales frenzy dies down before I go and do a bit of shopping somewhere else.

 

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France, Lifestyle, Paris

Power Walking down to Concorde

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Just power walked down to Concorde and back through the Tuileries Gardens but grossly underestimated the temperature. The thermometer says 9.5° but I forgot about the wind factor. Next time, I’ll wear my cap with ear flaps (hoping I don’t meet anyone I know, Black Cat in particular) and my inferior Australian suede gloves (because I still haven’t got my new rabbit-fur ones from Italy). Or I could just use my exercise bike and watch a movie at the same time (if I can get the technology to work).

But if I did that, I’d miss the pianist on Place du Palais Royal and the guy with the giant bubble ring that all the kids love. I wouldn’t see the glass pyramids of the Louvre or the pink marble Carrousel Arch with its gold figures and green horses. I would miss the sun setting over the Eiffel Tower and the giant Ferris wheel looking so out-of-place with the Obelisk peaking out behind, mocking my fear of heights. I wouldn’t see the kids sailing their boats on the pond and looking like an Impressionist painting (except for their jeans and anoraks) nor hoping for a ride on the Olde Worlde carousel.

Neither would I be reminded on seeing the Orangerie that I haven’t been back since renovation to visit the wonderful oval rooms with Monet’s waterlilies (shame on me). I wouldn’t see the seagulls calling and screeching over the fountain. I wouldn’t have that stunning view of the Louvre spread out before me as I power walk my way back. I’d miss the man who hires out the sail boats pushing his boat-laden trolley home at the end of the day.

 I wouldn’t see the lovers kissing on benches (they don’t have cold ears) or the foreign tourists having their cheese and wine picnics (and ignoring the cold). I wouldn’t see Henry (and not the more strait-laced Thomas) Moore’s Reclining Figure at the foot of the Orangerie or the 18 Maillol statues down the other end. I would miss the open-mouthed fish at the bottom of the lamp posts next to the Decorative Arts Museum. Not to mention the giant monkey leaning out the window!

I wouldn’t be treated to the welcoming smell of roast chestnuts as I come out onto Rue de Rivoli. Neither would I go past the Comédie Française where Molière died in his chair or see the Night Revellers’ Kiosk. I wouldn’t see all the kids playing among the Buren columns and proudly wearing their crowns (they had the galette des rois today). I wouldn’t see all the people crowded into Miss Bibi’s tiny jewellery shop nor would I have the pleasure of feeling my ears get warmer as I walk up the stairs to my apartment.

But, more than anything else, I might forget just how lucky I am to actually live in the Palais Royal, right in the centre of the City of Light!

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Food, Paris, Restaurants

Breakfast at Angelina’s

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Not sure how wise it was to have thick delicious hot chocolate PLUS a mille-feuille à la vanille Bourbon (vanilla slice) after two soft-boiled eggs with brioche toast at Angelina’s in rue de Rivoli this morning. I didn’t add any fresh cream to the chocolate though.

Perhaps I should have stuck to the basic breakfast of hot beverage (I could have sensibly chosen tea), mini pâtisseries, toast and jam that I had last time. But I felt duty bound to accompany my 22-year old cousin from Australia who’s living and working in London at the moment and assuage her guilt feelings about eating something so sweet for breakfast. She had the same except for a mouth-melting all-chocolate concoction called Choc-Africain (dense chocolate cake, rich chocolate mousse, 100% African dark chocolate glaze)  instead of the (plain) mille-feuille which made me feel slightly more virtuous.

Mille-feuille is my favourite French pâtisserie and they’re particularly good at Angelina’s. The décor is pure 1900s and very popular with tourists, though I did see a few French businessmen just finishing breakfast when we arrived. It was founded in 1903 by Austrian confectioner Antoine Rumpelmayer and named after his daughter-in-law. It’s a wonderful afternoon tea spot as well. There’s often a queue but it usually goes quite fast. You can sit in their comfortable armchairs and be served by waitresses in black dresses and little white lace aprons and imagine Proust and Coco Chanel walking by and greeting their friends. There’s also a shop where you can buy all the goodies.

And don’t forget to check out the ladies and gents upstairs!

Jean Michel and I were pleasantly surprised to discover a little alfresco version of Angelina’s at the Petit Trianon in the gardens  of Versailles last summer – a just reward for our hours of cycling! I’ve learnt since that there are others in the Louvre Museum, the Luxembourg Museum, the Galeries Lafayette, the Palais des Congrès and the Jardin d’Acclimatation.

http://www.angelina-paris.fr/en/

Angelina
226 rue de Rivoli
Open every day from 7.30 am till 7pm
Open weekend from 8.30 am till 7pm
 
Breakfast time
Everyday until 11 :30 a.m.

 

Parisian breakfast                    20 euro
Tea, coffee or Angelina hot chocolate
Fresh juice – Orange, grapefruit or lemon
Mini viennese pastries – Croissant, pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins
Moisan organic bread roll with butter, Angelina honey & jam

 

Angelina breakfast                   32 euro
Tea, coffee or Angelina hot chocolate
Fresh juice – Orange, grapefruit or lemon
Mini viennese pastries – Croissant, pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins
Moisan organic bread roll with butter, Angelina honey & jam
Seasonal fresh fruit salad
Paris

The Night Revellers’ Kiosk

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Now this is another “sculpture” near the Palais Royal that I’m not keen on, because I find it somewhat garish, but I have some (perfectly normal French) friends who think it’s wonderful. It’s the entrance to the Palais Royal metro on Place Colette and it’s called “Le Kiosque des Noctambules” (The Night Revellers’ Kiosk) and was designed and built in 2000 by Jean-Michel Othoniel.

There are two domes made of multicoloured glass balls, one in warm colours with a blown glass figure on top (the sun?) and the other in cold colours with a purple figure on top (the moon?). I checked out the symbolism on my favourite Paris architectural information blog, archeologue.over-blog. It says that the two domes are placed on top of a frame forming an eight (not immediately obvious), which is the symbol of eternity. A little bench at one end is there to welcome night revellers (I must check next time if there are any). The little fence around the bench consists of a series of hammered metal rings incrusted with coloured glass.

When you go down the steps to the metro, you come to the second part of the  installation. There are two large circles embedded in the brick wall with coloured beads inside an Art Nouveau surround. The “jewels” apparently blink out at you in the dark corridor. Mystery downstairs, brightness upstairs is the idea it seems. I’ve always found them a little strange personally. I didn’t realise there was any connection with the other part.

I personally prefer Hector Guimardt’s traditional metro entrance in front of the Louvre, built in 1900, but that’s not surprising because I’m a great fan of Art Nouveau.

 

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