Surprise in the morning

After relaxing around the house in the morning, I headed over to the "House of European Photography". Got there 10 minutes early and asked for a full fare ticket. Alas, ticket could not be sold before the stroke of 11. While I was reading, I looked up to note that reduced fare tickets for seniors (60 and over) was a mere 4euro... Yahoo! Half price for having breathed longer than others.
Now I have to say that of the maybe 150 museum exhibits I see every year, maybe 3 or 4 are worth the time it takes to walk through them (Lately, that's mostly been at FIT Museum in NYC). But a Japanese photographer at this joint named Kimiko Yoshida did a series of self-portraits called "I Am Not There". Self portrait photos can be the dreariest of all, of course, so I trudged downstairs expecting nothing. Explosion! There's still Patti brain shrapnel sticking to the walls down there. I can't really explain her work, but here's a link- http://www.kimiko.fr/art/thumbnails.php?album=2
My main task for the day was to visit some of the famous covered passages of the city. These are like Victorian versions of shopping malls, with glass rooves and tiny shops. Except for maybe Passage Viviane, they can be quite shabby ala the "shopping Mall time forgot" varieties....
My trek led me down the Rue St. Denis, one of the city's prime red light districts. Though it was only early afternoon, many girls and lots of sex clubs were working. Although I couldn't take pix (they get livid when you do- I had tried it on an earlier trip) their outfits (from pink tutu and white tank top, to very sedate school girl uniform) fascinated me.I suppose Project Runway should have an episode designing for these gals, also.
Met D for an afternoon flick- "The Girl Hunters"- 1963- with Micky Spillane as Mike Hammar. Of course it was a dreadful noir, but the lady across the asile loved chatting with us before and after. At one point, the projector glitched and burned a hole in the film, but everyone just settled in and chatted whilst they fixed it. I am amazed and delighted at the film fanatics here. Can't think of anywhere in the US where you'd see over a dozen people at a film like that on a Friday afternoon.
Our dinner was at one of our fave restaurants on the west side of town that includes in theirprix fixe an aperitif of champagne and a bottle of swell wine.
More as life progresses....

Sun again

Yesterday. Quiet day here spent, for the most part, just reading and eating and napping. My jeans are getting quite snug. The new ones....
I started off the day laundering. Fortunately, this apartment has a washer and that part of the process went swimmingly (so to speak). At the sound of the buzzer, I opened the door to find damp clothes, (It was supposed to be a combo machine) and popped it shut, then tried to figure out how to use the drier without re-washing the whole load. Un-doable, apparently. But- voila- I couldn't re-open the washer. Tug, tug, reset, try again. D arrived on his white (french-speaking) horse, and couldn't figure out how to do it either. After 10 minutes of methodically trying buttons, etc., he finally succeeded. We hung the clothes on the outdoor clothes rack. They were so lovely dry when the rains came....
Took the metro out west to the Impressionist/Monet museum D liked so much last year, and had lunch at a little duck joint. I had duck and tatties. And an amazing mousse (choco) for dessert. The museum was fine for me. Had an exhibit on Monet's influence on the abstract painters of the 20th c. D, being a purist, went apoplectic. "How could they put these beautiful works of art next to these, these...#$%^&!!!!???"
To calm down, he went to see Hitchcock's "Suspicion" at the movies whilst I went home for a nap.
Then off to see a sneak preview of "The Town" with Ben Afflack and John Hamm. Got to the monstrous Les Halles. They were sold out. This was the only showing until next week (hence the term sneak preview), so I took a couple of shots of my fave statue, (see above), L'Ecoute, and we found another restaurant down a side street where I had the house cassoulet and D a little salad and cheese. We have both sworn off the scale when we get home for at least a week....
I used to fool myself by saying that with all the walking I do, I shouldn't gain weight on a trip. I now know better. It isn't necessary to go to the gym to lose weight. It all depends on what you shove in, more than how much you work out. Of course the downside of that is that when you wander a foodie paradise such as this...
Today appears to be gorgeous. I was on fetch duty this AM to get the fruit and bread for breaky. It was even a tiny bit chilly...
More as life progresses...

A most unexpected night- and a rainy day...

So we strolled out to go to one of our fave restaurants last PM- an over-the-top Art Deco joint near the Sorbonne... I was already fairly hazy from an afternoon champagne binge (call me Zelda...) and when the waiter started bringing on the food (asparagus soup, pork medallions and mashed potatoes like you've never tasted before) I became dizzy and didn't want to leave, and, although I threw up my hands in ecstacy, I was quiet about it. (I think...)
Dinner conversation ping-ponged between the events of 1940 and those of May 1968... and perhaps a fair amount of movies chat to round out the evening...
Speaking of which, the flick for the evening was my pick. A 1970's Antonioni starring Jack Nicholson called "Professione, Reporter". A truly dreadful number. I slept for most of the 35 minutes we stayed watching it. I apparently ow David more than one in exchange for it.
Then homeward and stopped off at D's fave karaoke ("The New York Bar and Karaoke Parlor") joint where he sang 3 tunes. Great fun for us and the French. One guy was singing this vaguely familiar tune. I loved it and fell in love with him. When I looked up at the video screen and saw the words- they were in English! His pronunciation wasn't off, it was just that his cadence threw me for a loop... And I learned more about the french language (aside from the fact that they capitalize almost nothing. It may have something to do with equality...) They don't use the s sound at the end of words if they can help it. Like- "This song's for you" could become "theee song for you..." Ain't that adorable, Homer?
Home at midnight, and awoke to a rainy day. The view from here is so swell, though, I can't complain. Read for a while, then out to lunch (OKOKOKOK- it's off to the gym when I get home, but it's vacay in Paris, for pete's sake!!!) before I headed to the Maison Rouge with its fascinating exhibit of "Headresses around the world". 350 pieces of indigenous headgear from 3rd world countries (developing nations). I liked the one with the snakes on top, but kept thinking that bringing Project Runway contestants here for inspiration could be really cool.
Every time I come here, I get completely charged for the Jeu de Paume, the national photo gallery, which always has creative, visionary, exhibits. I've actually gotten to go in just once, because they have a nasty habit of closing and not letting anyone know it's going to happen. Today was not an exception. I stood staring at the doors, and sadly trudged to the English language bookstores across the street before returning to the apt. for a nap.
At least I did get in an exhibit yesterday at the museum of Arts and Design and animals.
More as Paris progresses.
Also check out the new web album at http://picasaweb.google.com/tapit1/NextParis?authkey=Gv1sRgCIr_itaEtub5lwE#

Later that same trip...

Where was I?
Oh, yes, Paris.
I spent the day shooting from a converted aqueduct that's been made into a lovely walking path in the sky. How cool. Virgil (from the photo group) and I spent an hour up there and then landed in Place Bastille in time for the demonstration. The government has raised the retirement age to 62 and everyone's pissed. Not just because they want to retire earlier, but because with all the unemployment among the young, they need to free up some jobs around here... Sounds reasonable to me.
Everyone-I mean cops to steelworkers to hospital crews- were in the parade.
I wanted one of those nifty red and black "Je lutte par classes" (I fight for the classes...")stickers everyone was sporting, but couldn't find whoever was giving them out. If I am detained at the airport on my way out of here it will be because of all the leftist screed I have packed in my luggage.
The metro was crammed beyond everything I've ever experienced because of the strike and the fact that I got on at a terminal where all the paraders got on. Metro strike here translates more to a slow-down. One train every 11 minutes instead of 6. New Yorkers would go crazy at that kind of efficiency.
Walked home from the Gare d'Austerlitz and sat reading in the park for a while. Shot a lot of kids playing and on the carousel, etc. People here are not as paranoid that everyone over the age of 18 is a pedophile... They actually are fairly laissez-faire.
Then here to home where D was waiting for me. AND I got a metro pass which I couldn't round up yesterday.
So far- movie total- "Love in the Afternoon", and a new doc, "Cleveland vs. Wall Street".
More to come, and another web album. Sorry about everything being in French, but the pix are the same as in English!
So I just want you to know that as the jet lag fades, I begin to fall in love once again with this spot...
Wish you were here....

Nearly awake

Decided to spend the day together yesterday, which is pretty unusual for us. Began with a leisurely breaky in the apt, followed by lunch at Cafe Parisian around the ocrner- fab salads...
Then off to hunt down the exhibit- "Photos of Famous People's Dogs" at the Museum of Hunting and Nature. Believe me, it was a spot neither of us would ever have visited without the seductive show of portraits of pooches. Bizarre and amazing (pix to come) and then off to read in the park and ice cream along the Seine. (Sense a trend here?)
We did split for a little while before the evening's events. I plopped down with my fascinating book on the events in Paris during May, 1968, but mainly watched the kiddies play. They were all unselfconscious and soooo fun. One girl rode two razors at once. A couple of groups of boys played soccer with assorted sized balls (no double entendre here) and one girl played soccer by herself and was totally amazing, until she got tired of that and started bouncing a tennis ball on her raquet.
Then off to the movies to see an old fave, "Love in the Afternoon" (with Chevalier and Audrey Hepburn), at one of the classics houses. Parisians are CRAZY about movies, and the theater (2 screens) was packed. The other moive was "Mr. Deeds Goes to Town" with Gary Cooper. Now the weird thing about these movie houses is that they let the people in for one film in before they start letting the people in for the other. Drove me nuts that all those late comers got in before I did... but that was to the other film.
We walked down the street our Brasserie for the night. The minute we walked in, the maitre d said to me, "An english menu for the lady?" How did he know? How did he know? The meal was good, not great, but the atmosphere was fine. It was Sartre and Camus' old hangout near the Sorbonne.
Walked home and pretty much collapsed.
This blog is mostly for my own memory, but welcome to it.

I arrive- and disasters

As you all know, I spent the last 3 days before leaving for Pairs obsessing about good ol' Hurricane Earl. Life had calmed down by Friday and I decided to go with my entire plan A which included leaving RI on the 2PM train for Boston.
I'll make this short and choppy.
Got to train station a little early. After 10 minutes, the station master announced tree down on tracks at Old Saybrook- so- 2 hr delay. Rain by this time was coming down in torrents. I raced to Providence through the rain and got the bus to the airport so all worked out well. Flight only 45 mins late. Good. Easy flight.
Jet lagged when I arrived. Asked man how to get to the trains since I couldn't find the connecting shuttle. He said they were on strike. My brain froze and he said he would drive me, having, conveniently, his taxi outside. I said I couldn't afford it. He said no problem and tossed my bag in the back. I, following it, got in and he took off. We raced down the highway as I watched the meter climb astronomically high. Terror, but no way out. When we got into the city, I told him to let me out at the nearest metro station. The fare by this time translated to just over $100US! We yelled a little bit. Before he finally gave up my bag.
Shaken, by this time my brain was fried, and a metro trip that should have been just 5 stops, turned into 27 with 2 line chages. The good thing is that Paris metro is soooo easy to navigate.
Got to the apartment building and couldn't figure out how to get in. Called the caretaker of this apt. He was lovely, but- bad news. The elevator wasn't working. Up 6 flights of stairs with luggage (once I located the stairs, which were darkened and spiral. Finally figured out how to turn on light...)
Apartment amazing and more than I hoped for. Greeted with champagne and flowers by my charming host.
Nap. Followed by what was supposed to be a short pleasant stroll to the Public Garden (Jardin des Plantes) and then a train ride to the right bank (only 4 stops) to see an exhibit on "ethnic headdresses from around the world". I got lost. Never did get to the garden. Ended up taking part in a demonstration against the government's racist policies (expulsion of the gypsies, etc.). As you all know, these laws have been sticking in my craw and caused me to hate Sarkoczy and his minions. I was in tears at the beauty of French resistance.
Landlady called me just then. I told her I had to call her back, as I couldn't hear her because I was in demonstration. (Ooops- what if she's right wing?). So I said "taking pictures". (Ooops, what if she's a leftie and offended by my crassness??)
Never did find the museum, which I discovered when I got home was because I had the wrong address. It was on Boulevard Bastille, not Rue de Republique. When I get it wrong, it's all wrong!
Back for another nap and D arrived around 6.30. Hooray!
Went to an amazing restaurant (I had liver, he had beef) and chatted with the Canadians at the next table. The man had been 3 weeks in Finland on a culinary exchange program. He said they are totally advanced in nutrition, but their food tastes like crap (not his words.) Fascinating.
On walk home, accosted by aggressive drunk. Tried to swat him off without success. He whined (in French, but I understood) "I am a Jew." WTF???? I finally cracked. I stared straight into his eyes from about a foot away and yelled as loudly as I could- "No!!!" Then, remembering my manners, I added, "Merci." He was taken aback, and tried to follow us again, but I turned and glared at him and he latched on to another hapless couple instead.
Home. And to bed.
More as things progress...
I'll be posting a web album or two as I go along...
Bon appetit!