Your Paris Pied à Terre

If you've got a couple million euros burning a hole in your pocket, does the French state have a deal for you!  Go online to this site and you will find listings for government buildings in Paris that can be yours for .....well I won't say a song but they could be yours all the same.  Among the most controversial of these is the Hôtel de la Marine on Place de la Concorde, the current headquarters of the French navy and twin to the Hôtel de Coislin, best known as home to the luxurious five star Hôtel de Crillon and the Automobile Club de France.  After 220 years in residence, the navy is moving out, headed for what's being dubbed the French Pentagon near metro Balard in the 15th, and they hope to finance the move by selling the current building.  But what to do with an 18th century architectural jewel with 215,000 square feet and over 500 rooms?  It's certainly not clear.  When Le Figaro posed this question to 14 luminaries recently, the answers ranged from "make it into a museum" to "make into anything but a museum."  If you don't want to enter the fray, there's also a nice little hotel particulier in the 16th, a spot under the arcades in rue des Pyramides in the 1st, and a chateau or two in the provinces.

You can read more about the history of the Hôtel de la Marine and the contoversy in The New York Times

Vehicles of Paris: No. 26

My grandfather, who I'm told was the first pediatrician in Milwaukee, Wisconsin back when having a doctor just for kids was a novelty, used to make house calls.  My dad, who was also a physician (albeit a specialist), never did.  But the house call is very much alive in many communities in France, thanks to SOS Médecins who will come out to your place, day or night, seven days a week.  Fortunately for me, I have no personal experience with them (knock on wood) but everyone I know who has called upon them has been happy with the service and the fees are quite reasonable.  So if you're up with a child with a high fever, or your visiting parent starts to experience chest pain, or you have a nasty accident in the kitchen, keep this number by the phone:  3624.  

Giveaway!

I don't want this blog to become a constant drone about our impending departure from Paris.  And yet, while it's still some three plus months in the future, my mind is already going at warpspeed.  There's a ton of stuff I want to do in Paris -- people to see, places to visit, restaurants to try, neighborhoods to explore.  Plus I'm already making a lot of mental notes about things I need to do to get out of here and to make sure that everything is lined up on the other end.  So if there's something I can take care of now (like taking a large bag of wrapping paper tubes, styrofoam, egg cartons, and cardboard that I've been collecting to the art teacher at my kids' school), I'm going to do it.  

And in that vein, while it's not yet time to say good-bye, I've got a good-bye present to share with one lucky reader.  It's a photo book (8 in x 8 in), 20 pages of my favorite photos from the blog, made with a lot of help from Shutterfly.   If you want it, all you have to do is leave a comment between now and 8:00 am Paris time on Friday, March 18.  No quiz, no theme, no pressure to be creative, nothing like that.  Just let me know you're out there and  I'll choose the name of one commenter at random.  Have at it people.

Are the French Really Rude?

In my view, no.  Yes, they maintain a certain distance when relating to strangers, a coolness that an outgoing American can find off putting.  And yes, they are insistent on adhering to a set of formalized manners.  And true, they have a concept of personal space that can make you feel uncomfortable if you are used to a world in which the 15 inches surrounding your body are inviolable. 

But rude in the sense that they lack consideration for others? Not at all.  On the other hand, it seems to me that maintaining a certain level of decorum in interpersonal relationships requires a pretty much constant stream of reminders about what's proper.  This notice, with its tut tut tut instructions to treat the bus driver with respect, is part of a campaign to keep bus riders in line.  Other notices in the series admonish riders not to ask the driver to stop between stops, to give up their seats to persons who are older or infirm, to fold up their strollers,  and to keep their voices down.  There's even a series of borderline ridiculous YouTube videos to reinforce the messages.

Has this campaign made any difference?  As you might guess, I'm skeptical.  But I don't mind the intent.  And I'll try to model the proper behavior the next time I'm on the bus.

Ta Da!

No one is going to give Les femmes du 6ème étage an award for pushing the boundaries of cinema or for the daring performances of its cast.  But this film is doing big business at the box office and I'm giving it a huge gold star too.  Why?  Because I understood it -- lock, stock, and barrel, no subtitles, no French friend whispering in my ear.  I laughed at the jokes (well, most of them) and got a little tear in my eye at the tender moments.  

I am still a long way from fully mastering the French language.  Even so, I'm feeling good about the progress I've made.  It was particularly apparent after our visit to Budapest last month where I couldn't read a sign, ask a simple direction, or make heads or tails of the Hungarian language.  I kept looking at my sheet of phrases to remember how to say please, thank you,  hello, and the words kept flying out of my head.   Frankly, it was a relief to come back to Paris where I understand the announcements made over the PA in the subway, can read the newspaper, listen to the radio, and order from the menu without having to ask for the English version.   I may not have conquered the subjunctive but honestly, I'm doing fine and pleased to see that the time I've put in has really paid off.

And if you have a chance to see the film, whether in the cinema in Paris or eventually on video in the privacy of your home,  I hope you will enjoy it.  It's a sweet, thoroughly fanciful tale, set in the 1960s, about a Parisian gentleman whose world and heart is opened up by a group of Spanish domestics who live on the 6th floor of his apartment building in the 16th arrondissement. 

Changed for Good

People being people, I'm sure someone got their panties in a twist over the change in the name of this tiny street in the Marais.  Abutting the Memorial de la Shoah, the renaming goes hand in hand with the creation of a set of plaques commemorating the bravery of Parisians who risked all to protect their Jewish neighbors during the occupation of World War II.  The courtyard of the Memorial is lined with the names of those who perished in the camps; thanks to the justes (the righteous as we would call them in English), the list is thankfully not any longer.  We'd all like to imagine that we would be similarly brave but it's impossible to know how any of us might act under the circumstances.

It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's a...

It's a gas balloon, permanently tethered at Parc Andre Citroen in the 15th arrondissement.  And what's more, you can actually take a ride in it up 150 meters, although it won't take you wafting across the city.  And if that's not reason enough to check it out, the balloon itself changes color in relation to the city's air quality.  Green is good, pink is bad, and everything in between is just par for the course.

You don't have to be anyone special to take a ride in this balloon. Just fork over your admission (10 euros for adults during the week or 12 on holidays or weekends with reduced rates for kids).  In fact, if you're a vrai Parisien under the age of 12, your ride is free if mom or dad pays.  And it's open for business every day from 9 am until the park closes.  For all the details, go to the Web site:  Ballon Air de Paris.  Since I'm the kind of person who gets motion sick in an elevator, I cannot vouch for it personally.  But I still think it's cool.