April Showers Brought May Flowers

The lilacs have faded, the tulips are a distant memory.  Now it's time for the roses.  If you are a true connoisseur, there are two places you must visit in Paris:  Bagatelle in the Bois de Boulogne and the Roseraie in L'Haÿ-les-Roses just south of town.  In fact, you don't have to go that far because there may be some beautiful specimens just around the corner.  Lovely.

Guessing Game

What do you think?  Modern art?  Giant Shell no pest strips? 

Actually neither.  These hanging objects are intended as housing for sparrows, part of a project by the city of Paris to protect the little birds.  Their numbers have gone down by about 20 percent in recent years (not as bad as London and Amsterdam where they've all but disappeared) but still enough to take measures.  I took this photo less than a month ago when the trees had not yet leafed out.  Time flies like a....sparrow!

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.

Never a Dull Moment

You never know what's waiting for you when you head out the front door in the morning.  Yesterday, I saw:

A cherry tree in full bloom inside the courtyard of the Petit Palais.  No, spring has not progressed this far citywide.  My guess is that it's a good 10 degrees warmer inside the courtyard than elsewhere.  And if you haven't visited the Petit Palais, put it on your list.  The collection is a bit of mish mash but there are some amazing pieces.  Plus it's free.

Poulet de Bresse for sale at the butcher shop.  For 24 euros a kilo, you get to pay for the feet too.  But that is some fine chicken.

A fine equestrian show along the quai des Célestins by la Garde républicaine, I'm assuming as part of the ceremonies related to South African President Jacob Zuma's state visit.

All in all, not a bad day.

Vacances d'Hiver

Although the forsythia is in bud and a few stray daffodils, planted in protected spots, are showing their sunny faces, it is still resolutely February in Paris.   And while the queues at tourist sites are short or nonexistent, visitors to town may be surprised to find that their favorite restaurant, the neighborhood boulangerie, and the corner pharmacie are all closed.  What gives?  It's the two-week February break for school children in the Paris region, a time when those who have the resources flee to the Alps to ski and those that don't just take a little family time.  Unlike in the U.S., where school systems are run by counties and municipalities with the result being multiple vacation schedules, even within a metropolitan area, in France, it's strictly a national business.  The country is neatly divided into three zones with overlapping vacations.  The school holidays run this week and last in Zone A (which includes Paris) but this week and the week after for schools in Zone B, and the first two weeks of March in Zone C.  (If you're planning a trip and want the details, you can find them here.)

But no need to worry if you're a tourist as long as you're willing to be a bit flexible.  It's nothing like August when Paris really empties out and some streets are nothing but shuttered windows.  All the museums are still open, the theaters are busy, and there's still plenty of good food to be had.   And if you have to walk a bit further for your croissant in the morning, take a deep breath and enjoy.

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.

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?

Café Society

Parisians have tremendous fortitude for dining and drinking outside, a penchant that has only increased with restrictions imposed in 2008 on smoking inside restaurants.  Most cafes are equipped with plastic walls to keep the wind and weather at bay as well as heat lamps to create the semblance of warmth.  Even so, if you're planning on sitting on the terrasse at this time of year, you won't be shedding your scarf and coat.  As for the gloves, that's up to you.

I saw this woman sitting by herself on the terrasse of a café that in warm weather is always jam packed.  Is she lonely or merely contemplative?  Waiting for a friend or definitively on her own?  You can write whatever story you choose.  But contrast her with the folks on the interior who are warm and snug, engaged in conversation over lunch.  And if you look closely, you might even see me as a reflection in the window, taking a photo from my seat on the bus.

Falling Leaves

There was scarcely a soul yesterday on the walk between La Ferté-Alais and Mennency, southeast of Paris.  And that suited me just fine.

Fall Light

No matter what the temperature, you can certainly tell it's fall by the light.  The sun is lower in the sky, doesn't show its face before 8:00 am and goes to bed early too.  In a week when daylight savings time ends, it will shift even further.

Saturday was one of those typically crazy days weatherwise in Paris.  Sun one minute, dark clouds the next, a rain shower and then a clearing.  I took this picture on the footbridge over the Seine near the Musee Quai Branly.  I loved the look of the clouds but the sun was so blinding, I couldn't tell whether the shot would work or not.  And since it did, dear reader, it's all yours.

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.

Quiet in August? Yes and No

This sign is one of those cliches based in truth. The French are serious about their time off and many of the smaller businesses in our neighborhood have closed up shop for a few weeks. (The chain stores stay open, presumably because of their ability to rotate staff leave.) Traffic is light. And there actually seemed to be more tourists than residents at our neighborhood open air market last Saturday.

But not everyone is on vacation. Far from it. When the retail business shuts down for the month, the painters, plasterers, and fixer uppers move in. From what I can tell, August appears to be a busy time for renovation and remodeling. One of our neighborhood boulangeries has been completely gutted, right down to the studs. Since there was a steady stream of business there and often lines out the door, my guess is that they will be back at the rentrée with fresh walls, cases, counters, flooring, and windows. Time off for the working man come September? The only thing I know for sure is that the first general strike of the season is the 7th. Sounds like a good day to go fishing to me.

Glamour Don't

Dear Ladies of Paris,

When the temperatures hit the 30 degree Celsius mark (86 degrees F), it might be a good idea -- for your own comfort, that is -- if you didn't wear any of the following:

• those pleather pants;
• turtlenecks;
• suede boots;
• your winter coat (or even a trench for that matter);
• tights (even if they are the kind that stop at your ankles); or
• fuzzy gloves.

I'm just sayin'.

Bisous,

Just Another American in Paris

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.

Finally

Aaaah spring. My favorite time of year.