Roses and rambles in medieval Provins

We decided to visit Provins on Saturday, because travel on the suburban train lines are free on weekends with our weekly metro passes.  Provins is charming, the former territory of the Counts of Champagne, and a medieval fair town.  It is presided over by the brooding 12th Century castle keep, known as Caesar's Tower, and the Saint Quiriace Collegiate Church (see above).

We did not go into the church, but Aidan, Joseph, Kevin, and I all climbed the ancient tower. The views were magnificent, and there was an enormous bell at the top.

It was raining most of the day, which lent a somber tone to the old city, but (warning: cliché ahead!) it didn't dampen our spirits.

After a walk around the town, it was time for Aidan and Joseph to sample the crepes and cider, served by a very friendly waiter.

The report? They were both good!  Across the square stood this marvelous old carousel.  Wouldn't you like a ride?

You could easily imagine living here in another age.

We came across roses growing on walls.  The rose of Provins is the Apothecary Rose, so called because it was used for medicinal purposes.It has an interesting history.  The rose was brought back to Provins during the Crusades.  Later, because England ruled so much of France, it evolved into the red Rose of Lancaster.  (And eventually, under Henry II of England, it became joined with the white rose of York to become the Tudor Rose, still a familiar symbol in England.) 

What's more, according to one story, rose petals were once rolled into beads, creating the rosary, though that is disputed.

Roses are one of Provins' claims to fame, but this one is not red.

We climbed the old city wall, but when we returned to Paris, we found that we had missed a walk along the most impressive portion. We also missed the jousting exhibition (we never found it), but it didn't matter.  We had already been captivated by Provins.

The days are ticking down...

Don't be alarmed, Kevin! If the chateau is closed, we'll find something else to do!

Our time with Aidan and Joseph is drawing to a close. We've been so busy that I haven't even had time to post lately. Kevin and I have enjoyed their company, and we'll be a little sad when they leave. We've had several outings, and the two of them have also explored on their own. 

We're pleased they are taking advantage of what this city has to offer, even going twice more to the Louvre, as well as to the Rodin Museum, so they are probably about "museumed-out."

We've had some great excursions and some disappointing ones. For example, we traveled all the way out to the east of Paris to the Chateau de Vincennes, a mostly 14th to 17th century castle. We had checked to be sure it was open before we left, but when we arrived we found it was a day of an "exceptional closing."

With the chateau closed, we strolled to the nearby Parc Floral (which was not very floral) and had our picnic lunch. The bonsai garden there includes a juniper that dates from 1796.

I didn't get any pictures of the Arc de Triomphe with Aidan and Joe, but I did take some snaps of the views from the top.

Later in their visit, I went with them to Versailles one day, while Kevin took care of some business in town. There were no tours that day, so I did my best to act as guide. I never tire of going to Versailles.

Later, we all went to Sainte-Chapelle to marvel at the 13th Century stained glass.  About 70 to 80 percent of the glass dates from that period. A former royal chapel, it was damaged during the French Revolution, but was restored in the 19th Century. (Kevin and I have tickets to a classical concert in this chapel in July.  I am thrilled we will be hearing Pachelbel and Mozart in this setting!)

Question: Does it look to you like someone is holding up a plush raccoon or puppet?

Tales of art and the city

It's surprising what you can learn at a laundromat.  One day, while I was drying clothes, I encountered a young man who told me about an unusual art exhibit.  He was one of the organizers. The presentation, "Art in Situ," was an exhibition at Fort D'Aubervilliers, some distance away from us, but reachable by metro. So on the Saturday when Keara and Rasmus were here, and Aidan and Joseph were back, we made the trek across town.

The setting of the free exhibit was a former auto impound and wrecking yard.  It will soon be bulldozed to prepare for "ecological" public housing, with a low energy use and footprint. More than 40 urban and street artists (like Banksy and Shepard Fairey, but less well known) had been invited to decorate the space for this temporary exhibition before it was demolished.  It was a stunning display.

We were pleased to see something that the average tourist wouldn't see, and at the end of the day, we made our own colorful display back in Montmartre in front of the Moulin Rouge.

Keara and Rasmus and La Fête de la Musique

One of the greatest joys of our stay in Paris has been sharing it with family and friends, and this past weekend was definitely one of the highlights. Keara, our grandniece, and her cousin Rasmus arrived on Friday, while Aidan and Joseph were still in London.  

Keara is pursuing her dream, working her way around Europe by freelancing for a couple of clients in the U.S. (Hmm. I wonder if the company I work for would go for something like that?) Keara flew in from Venice and Rasmus arrived from his home in Copenhagen, where he is enjoying a fascinating, but demanding job, for one of the largest unions in Denmark. (Kevin and I enjoy talking to Rasmus about politics and economics--as well as The Simpsons--and we find the Danish Model interesting.)

We took them to the usual tourist stops and spent hours catching up on our lives, but one of the experiences I enjoyed the most was attending La Fête de la Musique (Music Festival) with them.

This event, which began in 1981, takes place on the summer solstice, June 21, each year. Both professional and amateur musicians take part, and all of Paris stays up until the wee hours celebrating. Everyone from toddlers to grandparents dance in the streets, and in some places there are bands on almost every corner, playing everything from classical to rock, reggae, and electro.  The Abbesses area near us was hopping! If you didn't like one performance, you could simply walk down the street to another.  I apologize because some of these photos are blurred--it was night, and people were moving--but I wanted to give you a flavor of this remarkable event.  Yes, people were drinking, but no one was drunk or disorderly, and a good time was had by all!

Kevin had to leave early because Aidan and Joseph were returning that night from London.  They hoped to join us later, but they were delayed, and sadly missed all the action.

I stayed. At midnight, I said goodbye to Keara and Rasmus and started my walk home. The streets were still full of people.  As I passed a bar on the way back, I was taken with the dizzying sound of a band led by an amazing trumpet player.  The band was playing a rousing version of Twist and Shout. Of course, I had to join in. No one minded that there was a woman in her 60's dancing on the sidewalk, while the other patrons swayed. I felt 30 years younger!*

*No, it wasn't the alcohol. The bars were so packed, it took forever to get a drink. I had only had one beer! How can you not love this city?


Addendum: Apparently, some bars in other parts of the city said they were going to boycott this year's celebrations, given that the police were coming down so hard on them for exceeding noise levels. The bar owners said they had done everything from cautioning customers to setting up a phone line for residents to complain to them, so they felt the police were being unreasonable. I wondered later if that had something to do with what I witnessed that night.  On one street, we saw a police car surrounded by people, and I momentarily thought we should get out of there, fearing a confrontation.  But some people in the crowd starting singing "La Marseillaise," the French National Anthem.  (Shades of "Casablanca"?) At that point, the police car backed down the street and left.

Diner en blanc

By Luc Legay from Paris, France - White Diner Paris - Diner en blanc 2012, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=32413506

I realized that I had forgotten to note that on their second night here, Aidan and Joseph had gone to the Eiffel Tower to watch the light show. Because the sun sets late in summer, the show doesn't begin now before 11 p.m., and Kevin and I were too tired to go.

They came back with a report of having seen groups of people dressed in white.  I knew instantly what they were describing, because I had read about it long ago, and I briefly considered taking part.  It was the diner in blanc or "white dinner."  Starting in Paris several years ago, the white dinner has now spread to cities all over the world.  One press account calls it "a culinary flash mob," and that's exactly what it is.  People are informed of the location of the dinner at the last minute through social media.  Technically, this secret dinner is invitation-only, but the word spreads, and no one minds as long as you follow the rules.  For example, you and your party have to be dressed all in white, and you have to bring your own food, white dinner service, and portable table.

This year, the event took place on the bridges of Paris.  I gave up the idea of participating because buying the white clothing, table, and linens, just seemed too expensive. But when Aidan and Joseph told us of seeing the people dressed in white, I felt pangs of regret. With a little planning, we could have put something together from thrift shops. Maybe one day we will.

Explorations and revelations

 

We enjoyed our days in Paris with Aidan and Joseph, and I think they did too—in spite of what the photo on the bench seems to suggest.  We poked into some less-visited galleries at the Louvre, savored ice cream from Berthillon (supposed to be the best ice cream in Paris, though we weren't that impressed), and generally enjoyed the ambiance.

But they had planned a brief trip to London too. The night before they left, I got up in the middle of the night to retrieve a note that I had left for them on the kitchen table. They were leaving early in the morning, and I had wanted to give Aidan one more bit of advice. But suddenly it occurred to me that I was doing to Aidan what my mother used to do to me. Even when I was an adult, when we went out, she'd ask, "Don't you need your sweater?" It irritated me at the time. But that night I finally understood why she did that.

We love our children and grandchildren, and we want so much to protect them. Yes, even when we know they are capable adults. But we have to let them go out into that wide world alone, to encounter the beauty, the terror, the love,  and the cruelty that life inflicts, all wrapped up together. We can't protect them any more; we just have to give them hugs and send them on their way. I thought about that when I heard them rise at dawn and leave as silently as they could to catch the metro. The world is theirs now. All we can do is wish them well.

How I lost my grandson on the metro

Even if you don't know French, you can probably figure out what this sign is saying. Yes, it's warning metro passengers not to try and board after the signal sounds, because they risk injuring themselves badly.  It would also have helped if Aidan had a grandmother who had thought to warn him. 

Imagine then, boarding the metro as the signal sounds, and looking out to see the doors closing on your grandson! "Don't force it! Don't force it!," I shout, just as Aidan (fortunately) gives up his quest and steps back onto the platform.  "We'll come back for you!"

The metro train pulls away, and we see Aidan's form get smaller and smaller as we enter the tunnel.  (What kind of grandmother am I to let that happen?) Kevin, Joseph, and I exit at the next station.  "We have to go back," I insist. "I told him we'd go back and get him!"

Kevin says that Aidan didn't hear me.  I'm not completely worried, because Aidan is, after all, an intelligent young man, plus he has the Citymapper app on his iPhone, and he's been plotting our way around the city all day. Still, it's more than a little disconcerting. While Kevin and I argue about whether Aidan heard me, Joseph remains calm and offers the most sensible suggestion of all: "Why don't we wait and see if he got on the next train? Then, if he doesn't show up, we can go back for him."  (We also try our phones, but they don't work underground.)

We wait. The train arrives.  No Aidan.  We decide to go back. Rattled, I jump on the next train back, and Kevin and Joseph follow.  Then, we realize we're on the metro line that splits into two, and you have to be sure you're getting on the correct car. At the next station, we realize we're on the wrong train!  We exit, and clamber onto the right train a couple of minutes later.

When we reach the station where we left Aidan, he is nowhere to be found.  We decide to go back to the apartment, our destination, because we know Aidan can find his way back there.

We take the long ride back to Jules Joffrin station. As we walk down the street toward our apartment, whom do we see coming toward us?  It's Aidan!  He beat us home, saw we weren't there, and headed for the metro to greet us.

Again, all's well that ends well. That event happened on  the second day of Aidan's and Joseph's visit.  And none of us will try and force the doors open on the metro again! We also have a new rule:  If we get separated on the metro, we will get off at the next station and wait till we can be reunited.

My French kitchen

I really like the clean look of modern European kitchens, where the appliances are mostly hidden. And to make sure you have enough space to store your pots and pans, just get ones with handles that you can detach and swap out. C'est une bonne idée!

Where is the dishwasher?

Oh,, there it is!

A clean look.

Our refrigerator and freezer.

Our microwave and storage area.