Now That's a Paris Sky

It's been super dry in Paris of late.  The farmers are none too happy but the rest of us are getting spoiled by a very long string of sunny days with highs in the mid 70s Fahrenheit.  (Of course, wouldn't you know it -- when I got up this morning, it was raining.)

The day I snapped this photo the skies darkened several times, creating dramatic light and cloud effects.  The anticipated rain never materialized.  Perhaps it's some kind of cosmic reward for the long dreary winter which now is barely there in my memory.

Spring Has Sprung

We've been having an incredible stretch of perfect weather here in Paris -- blue skies with daytime highs in the mid 60s  -- a welcome respite after the gray chill of a Parisian winter.  Yesterday, my travels took me through the Jardin du Luxembourg, where it seemed that everyone and his brother had pulled up a chair to catch some rays.  So shoot me if I passed on the garden's lovely water features and floral displays.  The people -- some who had clearly dug deep into their closets for short skirts, strappy sandals, and sunglasses -- were much more interesting.  With the glare of the sun, my camera screen was illegible.  Happily, I have a few fun snaps to share.  Regrettably, I did not get a shot of the three twentysomething women sitting next to me.  They had pastries from the bakery, a thermos full of coffee with extra tiny cups, and cigarettes.  It was as if they had relocated their favorite cafe to a vantage point overlooking the grand bassin.

This young lady is mid yawn here. Moments later, she closed her eyes and gave up on whatever she'd been reading.

This gentleman remained surprisingly focused given all the distractions.

The mother in me wanted to tell the girl in white to put that damn phone down.

Madame is elegant even in her jeans.  But then there's that cigarette.

The moment doesn't exist unless you document it.

There is a McDonald's right across the Boulevard St. Michel entrance to the gardens. Don't ever let a French person tell you that McDonald's is just for Americans. They eat it up. (Of course, I don't know whether these dudes were French or not.)

The one patch of grass available to picnickers was jam-packed.  Kind of reminded me of the Mall in Washington on the Fourth of July.

And of course, there were two beautiful stretches of grass flanking the picnic area.  When they say stay off the grass here, they mean it.

High Water No More

Loyal readers may remember my post about the high level of the Seine at the end of December.  Well, the other day, I was back in the vicinity of the Pont de l'Alma where the statue of the Zouave stands, the one that is used as a gauge of the river's level, and discovered that his feet are nice and dry,

Just for comparison, here was the situation in December:

And here's the state of affairs this week:

It's still hard to imagine those terrible days in 1910 when he was up to his neck.  If you care to know more, look for Paris Under Water by Jeffrey Jackson at your local bookstore or library.  Jackson, an American historian, tells an interesting tale about the causes and consequences of the flood, and mixes in many interesting anecdotes, both heart renching and heart warming.



Ensoleillé (Sunny)

The weather forecast on Sunday night showed sun for the entire week but I've lived in Paris too long to trust that kind of magical thinking.  And yet, yesterday, the sun came out in the morning and stayed out all day.  It was astonishing and rare and really the only thing anyone could talk about.  I went for a visit at the Louvre and when I should have been listening to what the guide was saying about 17th century French paintings, I was busy snapping pictures out the window.  After all, I can read up on Poussin, Le Nain, La Tour, and Valentin de Boulogne any old time.  But see the sun in February in Paris?  Better enjoy it while you can.

For the first time ever, a piece of art work is gracing this pillar directly under I.M. Peil's pyramid at the Louvre.  This sculpture, by British artist Tony Cragg, is part of a temporary show of his work.  Earlier suggestions for permanent installations were rejected -- the Winged Victory of Samothrace was judged too large and too fragile; Rodin's Thinker got the gong because no works of Rodin are on exhibit in the Louvre.



You need sun for shadow. So nice to see a world with contrasts.



The sun on the fountain in the Cour Carrée was blinding.

Ciel Bleu

When I was a sophomore in college in Rhode Island, I had a roommate from Hawaii.  Despite having already spent a year in New England and thus presumably experienced in how to deal with cold weather, she could somehow never shake her childhood assumption that blue skies meant a perfect day for the beach.   On a January day, when the temperatures were frigid and a stiff wind was blowing out of the north, she would look out the window, see a crystal clear blue sky, and put on her flip flops.

When winter skies are blue in Paris, I'm never tempted to wear sandals.  Still, it is such a rare occurence that one really must take notice.

High Water

It's nothing like the great flood of 1910 but days of rain and snow have the Seine overflowing.  As you can see, the feet of Zouave who stands just below the Pont de l'Alma are underwater.   The city closes the roadway along the river when the water level reaches 3.2 meters; at the moment, it's up to 3.9 meters and still rising, the highest it's been in 4 years. Traffic on the river has been stopped in the heart of Paris; my guess is that even the lowest profile barges would have a hard time making it under any of the bridges.  You can read more at France 24.

To be honest, it's way too cold and damp for a promenade along the quais anyway.   Having done my duty to get these snapshots,  a cup of hot tea seems like a pretty good idea.

From Gray to White

A inch or two of slushy snow brought Paris to her knees yesterday.  It was a mess.  Fat gloppy snowflakes made sidewalks sloppy and slippery.  The gutters were lakes, the streets rivers.  The Eiffel Tower closed at noon.  And the traffic.  Well as the monitors in the subway system pointed out, "En raison des chutes de neige,  l'ensemble du réseau bus est paralysé." Yes, that's right.  Total paralysis.  A couple of the metro lines and the under-any-circumstances ultra sensitive RER A had major problems.  And out in the suburbs, it was gridlock.  At 4:00, regional traffic authorities announced that circulation was "impossible."  And by 5:00 p.m., early for rush hour, there were 308 kilometers of traffic jams in Ile de France.

For me, the pain was minimal.  One of my kids was on a field trip at the Pompidou Centre, making the ride home just a quick trip on the subway.  The other ended up going home with a friend for an impromptu midweek sleepover.  I put on a pot of lentil soup and called it an early night. Now to deal with the aftermath.

It's Paris, Only Grayer

I'm trying to remember the last time I saw the sun.  It probably wasn't more than a week ago but the gray which has descended upon Paris is playing tricks with my mind.  It's barely light at 9 in the morning and my kids are coming home from school in the dark.  The damp cold seeps through the layers of sweaters, scarves, and coats.  What little snow fell over the weekend is just a puddle.   Nothing seems quite in focus; I could swear that the mist in the atmosphere has infiltrated my brain.  Somehow walking across Paris, which in warm weather is a question of "why not," is now a question of "why bother." 

My list of holiday season errands is long.  Fortunately, trips to the dry cleaner and market, shopping for gifts, baking for teachers, volunteering at the kids' school, and travel planning are punctuated by loftier pursuits like yesterday's visit to the Louvre to discover portraiture from the Middle Ages to the early 19th century.  I did tune out the guide a bit, however,  when lured to gaze out the window at the scene above.  The dye in the fountain is presumably "art" although I can't say who the artist is or what his or her purpose might be.  The rest of Paris is hiding in the low clouds; you can just make the Ferris wheel in Place de la Concorde, the roof of the Grand Palais, the Arc de Triomphe, the lonely skyscraper at Porte Maillot, and even the fuzzy outlines of La Defense in the distance.  (Click on the picture if you want a closer view.)

Winter!

It's been bitter cold in Paris all week.  The forecasters keep warning about the snow that, much to the chagrin of my children, has not arrived.  (Well okay a few flakes have hit the ground in town and there's a thin crust of white in the 'burbs.)  The prediction for the weekend is slightly warmer temps, although only warm enough to cause problems.  Amazingly, my geraniums are still thriving in their window boxes.  I hesitate to cover them, water them, or even pinch them back lest it shock their systems too much.

It's going to be a good weekend for cleaning the house, writing Christmas cards, reading books, and perhaps hitting a lesser known museum as Sunday is the first Sunday of the month.  All this to be accompanied by copious amounts of hot beverages -- coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, your pick or perhaps all three?

Enough doom and gloom.  There's still no gas at the pump at one-quarter of French gas stations and no clear understanding of how the politics will play out but the metro and buses were running fine yesterday morning and the ticket writers and garbagemen were hard at work.  Plus those gray clouds (not just the figurative ones) rolled back, leading to a brilliant display of sunshine on the buildings in my quartier.

Indian Summer

We had glorious weather yesterday and more is on tap for today.  And when this happens, the only thing to do is to drop all else and get out there and enjoy it.   I was fortunate enough to have time and to be in the right location in my errand running to take a little respite at this lovely park  belonging to the Hotel Salomon de Rothschild just off Avenue Friedland in the 8th.  Many thanks for Eric Tenin at Paris Daily Photo  for clueing me into this hidden gem.  (The gate is just off the avenue on rue Berryer.)   Amazingly, one is permitted to sit on the grass there!  I didn't take the opportunity; I suspect I half thought some cop was going to come out of the shrubbery and yell at me.

Apartment living Parisians, most of whom do not have private gardens, terraces or even balconies, take advantage of parks on days such as this for all manner of tasks.  There were the usual 20 somethings with their iPods, the 30 somethings with their lunches, and then there were these retirees.

Madame had her knitting.

And this couple had his and hers magazines.  I snapped the picture so fast and then skedaddled before realizing that I'd caught Monsieur with his hand covering his face.  Oh well, you get the drift.  Now if you'll excuse me, the sun is shining and I'd rather be outside than sitting in front of my computer.

Fall Palette

On a day that was otherwise rather gloomy and gray, Paris and her surroundings saw fit to share with me some of her beautiful colors.  At breakfast, the skies in our quartier were striped with pink.  And that old sailor's adage, "red sky in morning, sailors take warning" was not far off the mark.

And then midday in the forest of Rambouillet, I saw this graceful counterplay of orange and green.

This Too Will Pass

Hello Paris weather.  What do you have plans for today?  Rain, sun, wind, cool, warm, a little bit of everything all rolled into one?  Because last week, we were freezing and the heat wasn't on in the building.  The syndicate that owns our building kindly agreed to move up the date to turn it on only now it's plenty toasty without it.  Boots or sandals?  Well at least I own both.

Shades of Blue and Gray

I woke up to rain yesterday morning after hearing the drops going pitter pat all night long. It never really poured but the coolness crept in, as did my own feeling of personal dread that the grayness of a Paris winter was already upon us. So imagine my happiness last night when I saw a break in the clouds as the sun set, the sky clearing in the west. With luck, that means today will be clear and the little man on the top of the Hermes store will be prancing in the sunshine.

Why is it that we all think of London as gray but that reputation never sticks to Paris? Perhaps it has to do with the coal dust that polluted London's skies in the 19th century. Or perhaps Paris just has better PR. When you look at the data on hours of sunshine, it's true that Paris gets more sun than London: about 1,800 hours of sunshine annually for Paris compared with only about 1,500 for London. But that's not much to shout about. Seattle (a place which admittedly I've never visited) which has a reputation for being rainy gets over 2,000 hours of sun each year and Washington, DC about 2,500. Point proven but what can you do? Carry an umbrella and enjoy every moment of sun while it lasts.

But It's A Dry Heat

Forgive me but when the weather goes to extremes, it's hard to think about anything else. Just like this time last year, it has been super hot in Paris this week with the highs topping out around 90. Air conditioning is more of an idea than a reality. The only real way to cope is to dress lightly, stay hydrated, and keep out of the sun. And pity the poor dusty tourists who must do all to get the most out of their Paris vacation, including these two who at least found shade and comfortable place to sit beneath the Arc de Triomphe. I feel as crumpled and sweaty. At least I don't have to run around to see all the sights. Right now, soaking my feet, a cold drink, and a spot on the couch by the open window sounds just about perfect.

Update: Dark skies and rain showers this am and the canicule already seems to be a thing of the past.

Sunshine

After a two week disappearing act, the sun is finally out with perfect temps for a spin on this moto. Lucky tourists who came this week instead of last; lucky me for getting to spend a good chunk of time strolling in the Tuileries and on the Champs de Mars. My shoes are dusty but my spirits are high.

Les Saints de Glace

Despite the French insistence that they live in a lay society, the remnants of Catholicism are everywhere from the multiple holidays that will be celebrated nationally this month (the Ascension and Pentecost) to the summaries of the life of each day's special saint that appear in the newspaper right next to the horoscope, TV schedule, and crossword puzzle.

In olden times, May 11, 12, and 13 were dedicated to Saints Mamert, Pancrasse, and Servais; today, they have been replaced by Saints Estelle, Achille, and Rolande. Yet the old names still have resonance for gardeners for whom they are the "saints de glace." Their days mark the time when it is safe to plant, when all threat of frost is over. And the statistics kept by modern day meterologists confirm the tradition. No frost in the forecast for Paris this week although it is damp and chilly enough to seem like winter has returned after the glorious days of late April.

Flower Power

The calendar says spring, the weather says otherwise. Thank goodness I had not completed the multiple runs that are required to drop off the household end of season dry cleaning. And judging from the forecast, I'm going to be wearing that tweedy blazer and the purple and black sweater jacket a lot over the next week.

But one can always dream, right? Particularly if it involves taking a spin on one of these babies. Peace, love, and warm weather. I could dig it.





And how about the groovy tramway in Montpellier? There are only two lines; the other one is royal blue with white birds.

Spring Stroll

Warm spring weather seems to be here to stay and what a difference it makes in my energy. A long walk and then a bike ride in the Bois de Boulogne, some quality playground time, and yesterday, a hike through forests and fields in the Essonne, less than an hour from the center of Paris by the RER C.

The crops looked incredible under the blue blue sky, especially the rapeseed which will eventually become canola oil.





We thought of the thousands stranded around the world when we saw these jet trails criss crossing the sky. It reminded me of that Saturday after September 11, 2001 when the planes started flying again, although this time without the sense of fear and dread.



We almost missed this neolithic structure, nestled into a bit of wood by the edge of a field.


After all the little yappy Yorkies with their furs and fancy coats who rule the streets of Paris, it was nice to see some big dogs. This fellow clearly just wanted to come out and play.

Nothin' But Blue Skies

Despite the mess that the Eyjafjallajokull volcano has created in the upper atmosphere, it's nothing but blue skies this afternoon in Paris. In fact, the sun's so bright that our neighbors across the way have drawn their shutters.



We are among the fortunate. We're not sitting at the airport, and we're not even watching our spring vacation plans go up in ashes. As the French say, "pas mal."