Irresistible

Is it any wonder that my jeans are just a bit snug?

Cycling Lesson

This is for all the parents out there who ever taught a kid to ride a bike.  Although the end result is thrilling (watching your kid experience the freedom of pedaling solo is truly like nothing else), the hours you have to put in can be tedious.  Plus all that hunching over really does a number on your back.  (Full disclosure:  it was my husband who did all the heavy lifting in this department for our two kids.)

Learning to unicycle takes a special kind of determination.  I walked behind this father-daughter duo for several blocks; she never managed to make it more than two or three revolutions without falling off.   Dad, for his part, kept his iron grip on both her hand and his cell phone.  Perhaps he's not the model of parental attention but I give him full credit for being out there on a chilly Sunday, giving her a chance to learn a new skill, especially in a city where there are not a lot of venues for this sort of activity.

And if she doesn't make it into that classe préparatoire a couple of years hence, if she sticks with the unicycle, there's an open plaza in front of the Centre Pompidou just waiting for another street performer.

Miscellany of History

You can barely walk down the street in these parts without encountering a piece of history.  Little memorials, plaques stuck to the side of buildings, brass markers seem to be everywhere, almost as ubiquitous as that other stuff on the sidewalk (although I think I've already said quite enough about that) and absolutely more welcome.  Here are a just a few of the little bits of history I've encountered lately.

In Parc Monceau, the spot where in October 1797, Andre-Jacques Garnerin made the world's first parachute jump.

On my monthly hike outside of Paris, a small plaque noting the residence of the jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt in the charming little town of Samois sur Seine.

Carved inscription on a building of no particular importance today indicating the spot where the young Louis XIII was made king after the assassination of Henri IV.  He was only eight at the time; his mother Marie de Medici served as regent until he reached majority at the age of 13.



A marker designating a building on rue des Colonnes, one of the few buildings constructed in Paris during the Revolution. This arcade preceded, but surely inspired, the one now present on the rue de Rivoli.  The decorative work on the capitals is unlike anything else you'll find in Paris.

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.

The Louvre's Back Story

When you're visiting the Louvre and ogling all those amazing masterpieces from your art history books, it's easy to forget that the Louvre was first and foremost, not a museum, but a royal residence.  That is, it was until Louis XIV decided to decamp Paris for the grander setting of Versailles.  And despite the many renovations over the centuries, the galleries still bear the marks of the kings who used to live there.  Here are just a few I captured on a recent visit:

There's the H for Henri II, intertwined above with D for his mistress, Diane de Poitiers.  Some say there's also a C for his wife, Catherine de Medici, but I'm guessing that's just rationalizing.

You've got K for Charles IX, the second son of Henri II.

L intertwined with A representing Louis XIII and his wife Anne of Austria who by the way was Spanish, not Austrian.

A generic L sometimes with a B for Bourbon, perhaps representing Louis XIV, XV, and XVI.

NL for Louis-Napoleon, not the short guy from Corsica, but his nephew who became Napoleon III, leader of the Second Empire.

Not all of these initials are authentic to the time period of the kings they represent.  Many were destroyed during the Revolution and in the subsequent upheavals during the 19th century.  If you want to learn more, read this interesting article on the Louvre's Web site.   And next time round, go on your own treasure hunt for remnants of French history.

More of Me

If you like what you see here, perhaps you'd be interested in what I'm writing elsewhere.  Two of my pieces were published this week on other sites:  one on Paris museums on Tripping and one for Valentine's Day on Girls' Guide to Paris.  I appreciated the opportunity to write for these sites.

I am also now Twittering or Tweeting or whatever you're supposed to call it.  You can find me there as "JustAnneinParis" or by clicking the "follow me on Twitter" button on the right hand side of this page. 

With four e-mail addresses, two blogs, two Facebook profiles, and a Twitter presence, I am sometimes having a little bit of trouble keeping all my on-line personalities sorted out. Thanks Internet.

Picnic

I don't know what it was about this threesome with their baguette sandwiches that captured my attention.  I guess it was that they were the only little bit of life in an otherwise austere setting.  Yesterday started out promising with sun and blue sky but by mid-day, it had all gone to hell and a cold gray mist had settled in, particularly along the banks of the Seine.  Major props to this crew -- a mother and two teenage girls, tourists, I think -- for toughing it out and for saving their centimes for a proper dinner.