Monday, March 4, 2024

Above and Below Ground!

 Just a week after our fateful, wallet-snatching ride on the #9 Metro line, we took a deep breath and got back on the same line to continue what we had planned on that day: a visit, ironically, to an exhibition about the history of the Paris Metro, and its future plans, presented at the Cité de l'Architecture et Patrimoine on the Place du Trocadero. "I wonder if they'll talk about pickpockets," we asked ourselves!


 A big poster at the entrance linked the origins of the Metro to the future plans for this highly successful mode of transportation. 

We read in the introduction that following Haussmann's grand  overhaul of Paris streets and buildings, over 100 projects for a metro system were designed and proposed during the second half of the 19th century, none of which came to fruition.

This one, from 1854, was designed to link the Gare de l'Est with Les Halles...

...another, from 1868, preferred an above ground design...

...and this one, 1887, combined normal life above with the new form of travel below.

Meanwhile, across the Channel, Londoners were way ahead of their Parisian counterparts, taking to their new underground form of travel (the Tube) as early as 1863. Rattling through dusty, dark tunnels in open carriages must have been quite the ticket, a bit like heading into a ride at Disneyland! New York and Berlin were not far behind, with the Subway and the Stadtbahn.

Parisians, meanwhile, were still in the world of horse-drawn omnibuses to get themselves around the ever-growing city. Although the idea of a Metropolitan underground railway captured the imagination, it also raised misgivings -- fear of travelling underground, fear that the city's monuments and vistas might be harmed. 

Finally, in 1895, with the 1900 Paris Exposition looming, the French Government relented, and gave permission for the city of Paris to build a local metropolitan rail system within the urban perimeter of the Thiers Wall. Constructed between 1841 and 1846, the Thiers Wall was the last of the defensive walls of Paris, some 21 miles long, forming a complete circle around the city, as it was then.

In 1897, the project by municipal chief engineer, Fulgence Bienvenüe, for an "electric-powered metropolitan railway to transport passengers and their hand luggage", was adopted by the city council. The first part of the project comprised six lines. The first, Porte de Vincennes-Porte Maillot, crossing Paris from east to west, went into service on July 19, 1900. It took just over twenty months to complete, and began the long adventure on rails.

It was Monsieur Bienvenüe who wrote the motto for this new venture: "By the lightning stolen from Jupiter, the offspring of Prometheus are driven through the underworld".

The  work was arduous, as captured in this painting by Gaston Brun in 1899. Working on line 1 under Place de l'Etoile, two miners use pickaxes to dislodge the subsoil, which varied greatly in different parts of the city.
 

 

Tunnels began to take shape below ground...


 ...in dark, difficult conditions...


 ...other tracks were built above ground...

...at Les Abbesses station in Montmartre, the tunnel had to go 31 meters deep due to the presence of old gypsum quarries. Passengers had the choice of endless stairs, or an elevator. Similar choices greeted people at Le Cité and St. Michel due to rail lines running under the Seine...

...this model shows the bowels of the Place de l'Opéra and its complex mix of water, gas, electricity lines, sewage networks, and 3 Metro lines...
 

...and for an above ground look, artist Luigi Loir painted the rue de Rivoli near where the Louvre-Rivoli metro stop is today. The street was cut open in trenches. Later, the huge opening was covered by a metal deck over which the rhythm of the city resumed. In the meantime, the construction site and its workers offered passers-by a spectacular show. The painting was shown at the 1900 Salon des Artistes, where it received praise for the lovely twilight setting.

Caricaturists had a field day with the emerging new rail system, one portraying La Marianne with Moulin Rouge models on her crown and tracks running every which way!
 

One of the names most associated with the Metro, and one whose work is still highly visible today, is Hector Guimard, a master of Art Nouveau design. At the time (1900), people feared descending into the bowels of the city, replete with potential epidemics. The city called for a design competition to allay these fears. Guimard's designs were selected for their welcoming, reassuring shapes, drawing often on images from nature.

The guardrail design on the left, found at station entrances, has the shape of a carapace, while the orange-red light fixtures were installed atop support poles at the same entrances. The glass shades often took the form of sprigs of lily of the valley. Station interiors reflected the hygienic concerns of the day, with the use of white tiles that were bright and easy to clean. As the exhibit text added: "Electric bulbs lighted the underground space, accompanying passengers inside the cars, illuminating the tunnels through which they passed, guiding them like an Ariadne's thread."

Our very own Sentier Line 3 metro entrance still proudly boasts Hector Guimard's original lettering and shield above, a bit weathered but welcoming as ever. 

For many years, you could travel 1st or 2nd class, the latter offering hard wooden seats. Matthew remembers that option still being available when he was here as a student in 1963.

Metro-themed games and model cars delighted kids of all ages!

And let's not forget all those films with scenes set on the Metro. In this still from an unnamed movie clip, the actor (who looks like Henry Fonda, but isn't) stands close to another passenger, a newspaper in his hands. As the clip continues, he proceeds to deftly fold his paper, and lean a little toward the man. He exits the train at the next stop, sits down on a station bench, unfolds his newspaper and, voilà, there is the man's wallet, stolen as smoothly as mine was!!

And then we spotted Marcel Gromaire's 1923 painting, "The Metro Car", with passengers all crammed together, which also gave me pause for all the wallets and purses that could so easily be rifled...

 

After the introduction of the RER (Réseau Express Régional) service in the 1960s, connecting the center of Paris to regional destinations beyond the city limits, the city is now developing the Grand Paris Express, the largest civil engineering project currently underway in Europe. In order to service the many new towns that have sprouted within a 30 mile radius of Paris, the Grand Paris Express is developing a double loop in the area between the city of Haussmann and these new towns. Four lines are under construction at the moment, lines 15, 16, 17, and 18.

As well as involving architects in the planning, the development also includes artists working in tandem with the architects to integrate art into the construction. In this design model for the Chatillon-Montrouge intermodal station (which serves line 13, the new line 15 and the T6 Tramway) flights of stairs, escalators and walkways are designed to increase the sense of height and space. The diamond-shaped central drop well throws a different perspective on the lower levels. And artist Laurent Grasso's sky-inspired ceiling hangs over everything with its shimmering almost Renaissance-like trompe-l'oeil effect.

At the St.Maur-Creteil station (also on line 15, which forms a circle around the city), architect Cyril Trétout has designed a large, luminous disk that covers an abyssal cylinder 52 meters below ground-level. He has eliminated the escalators. Instead, the 17-meter diameter of the shaft is punctuated with 11 elevators with transparent cabins. In the center "a monumental staircase unfurls to the ground like an orange peel, in a movement of continuity with the light,"

Collaborating with Cyril Trétout, artist Susanna Fischer uses the elements that compose the stairway to create a dense array of very thin cables that form an abstract ribbon-like shape in space and vibrate in the air. The prototype on display here shimmered under the lighting.

Le Corneuve Six-Routes station (line 16), designed by architects Frédéric Chartier and Pascale Dalix, features a predominantly brick interior and a plant-covered facade, a reflection of the town's working class past, and a nearby park. Here on the second level, artist Duy Anh Nhan Duc has created a root system formed by joining the lines of the palm of the hand of several hundred La Courneuve residents.  

He also collected plants of various species from nearby Parc Georges-Valbon. These plants are dried and, in some cases, gilded by the artist, before being preserved in transparent resin walls. Really stunning! I, for one, cannot wait to see all these stations when the work is completed!

 

Back above ground, another recent outing took us to the Opéra Garnier, that opulent, ornate building, completed in 1875, that dominates the Place de l'Opéra. When I say "above ground", I'm not really referring to the fact that we were no longer in the Metro. In this instance "above ground" refers to a current exhibit at the Opéra Garnier, describing the dazzling dancing artistry of Rudolph Nureyev.

Margot Fonteyn & Rudolph Nureyev in "Giselle" 1962

While visiting Paris on a tour with the Kirov Ballet in 1961, 23-year-old Nureyev chose to seek asylum and not return to his native Russia. In 1962, he landed in London with the Royal Ballet, whose prima ballerina at the time was Margot Fonteyn. Although 19 years his senior, their collaboration took the dancing world by storm for the next twelve years. I was incredibly lucky to see them dance together in London in 1962, and can attest to her unparalleled grace and his explosive energy as nothing short of magical. His ability to remain "above ground" during his leaps defied gravity for what seemed like endless minutes. I have never forgotten the experience.

The current exhibition at the Opéra Garnier marks the 30th anniversary of Nureyev's death, and focuses on his years with the National French Ballet. Throughout his career, he had an intense and fruitful relationship with the Paris opera and its ballet. He frequently danced there as a guest artist "étoile", and following his twelve years with the Royal Ballet in London, he became choreographer of the Paris Opera Ballet from 1974 to 1992, and Director of Dance from 1983 to 1989.

Passing above the grand staircase that attracts visitors from all around the world, we paused to take in the scale and the ornamentation that greets patrons when they arrive for a ballet performance.

Inside the exhibition, we found ourselves surrounded by dozens and dozens of exquisite costumes worn by Nureyev, this one from "Swan Lake"...


...a  sparkling, bejeweled jacket for "Sleeping Beauty"...


...and this gorgeous Matador top from "Don Quixote"...

 ...in a dark corner, we even spotted a pair of Nureyev's ballet slippers, pretty tattered and torn!

Nicholas Georgiadis costume design for "Sleeping Beauty"

As we admired other costumes and  many costume design sketches, we learned that Nureyev made a name for himself in works created by the Ballets Russes, such as Balanchine's "Apollon musagète" and Fokine's "Petrushka".  He performed in the great repertoire roles, including "Giselle", "Swan Lake", and "La Syphide", alongside Noella Pontois and Ghislaine Thesmar, who were soon to become his favourite partners.

Costume for the ballet "Raymonda"

He danced in all the ballets he created or re-staged for the Company (Basilio in "Don Quixote", Jean de Brienne in "Raymonda", Drosselmeyer in "The Nutcracker", the Prince in "Swan Lake", Mercutio in "Romeo and Juliet", to name just a few.

Nicholas Georgiadis-designed costume for "Don Quixote"

Always interested in other choreographic languages, Nureyev also performed in ballets by Roland Petit "Paradis perdu)" Jerome Robbins "Afternoon of a Faun", and Maurice Bejart, whose "Chant du compagnon errant" was the last ballet he performed at the Palais Garnier in 1990.

As a choreographer, Nureyev not only presented ballets inherited from illustrious predecessors, he developed his own works, including "Cinderella" (1986), which made a particularly forceful impression by transposing Charles Perrault's fairy tale into the Hollywood world of the 1930s. Cinderella's costume shown in the exhibition was designed by another highly regarded artist, Hanae Mori. I would love to have seen that interpretation!

Rudolph Nureyev on the rooftop of the Opéra Garnier

In 1989, Rudolph Nureyev received long-waited approval from the Soviet authorities to return to Russia. He danced in "La Sylphide" at the Kirov Theatre in Leningrad, where he had not been since 1961! By now, his AIDS diagnosis was taking its toll. His health was failing, and his final production for the Paris Opera,“Bayadère”, was completed in October, 1992 only with painful difficulty, helped by the colleagues he trusted. Rudolph Nureyev passed away in January, 1993. He once wrote:

“The main thing is dancing, and before it withers away
from my body, I will keep dancing till the last moment,
the last drop.”

 

À Bientôt!












Wednesday, February 21, 2024

If Only....A Cautionary Tale...

 

He had a lovely smile. As we crammed into an overcrowded train at Havre-Courmartin on the number 9 line of the Metro on Sunday, he squeezed up off his seat and gestured to me to take it. I smiled gratefully back, and as I tried to get over to the seat, he reached out to help me, as did another young man. I sank into the seat, mouthing a big "merci". With a final smile, they got off the train at the next stop, St. Augustin.

That's when I noticed that my handbag was unzipped...

...and on further inspection, I found it was empty. My wallet had been lifted cleanly away and had left the train with the young men at St. Augustin!  And I had not been aware, or felt a thing. By some miracle, my iPhone was still in the bag. After alerting other passengers that "mon portefeuille a été volé", and urging them to "faites attention", "prenez-garde", etc. we fled the train at the next stop and ran up to the street.

"Oh, merde", said the taxi driver, as he whisked us back to the flat to begin the arduous task of cancelling bank cards, etc. "Merde", indeed! Just trying to remember what was in the wallet was the first challenge. Debit cards, both US and French, credit cards, California Driver's License, Medicare card, Social Security card, health insurance card, various "cartes de fidélités", photos of the grandchildren, a substantial amount of cash, etc. But, worst of all, my treasured "Titre de Séjour", a French residency card that allows me to stay in the country for as long as I choose. Gone!

We cancelled what we could, via internet and phone. Even so, within 45 minutes of the heist, the thieves had managed to charge up to 150 euros-worth on my US debit card and French Carte Bleue at a café, a restaurant and a tabac in the general area of where they got off the train.

Now begins the deep dive into French bureaucracy as we attempt to replace my Titre de Séjour. First off, you must report the theft to the police. 

It took us a couple of misfires to understand the difference between the Préfecture de Police and the Commissariat de Police. The former, above, where we went first, is only for administering and issuing permits.

What we needed was a Commissariat de Police, which we found in the 5th arrondissement. The guard at the gate, bristling with weaponry, directed us to the correct door to report infractions.

Inside, we explained our situation, and took a seat in the waiting room, where a tv on the wall cycled through endless ways criminals prey on the innocent, and what steps you, the victim, can take.

Eventually we were called into a small office, where I made my declaration to the Police Chief. He recorded it all on his computer, nodding his head knowingly at my misfortune. He must take dozens of these reports every day. He gave us a copy of the official document, with the official stamp, and told us to make an appointment at the Préfecture de Police to begin the process to replace the stolen residency card.

So, that will be the next hurdle. Ever since this happened, the "what ifs" have been flooding my mind: What if it hadn't been raining? We would have walked ten minutes and taken a bus. What if we'd waited for the next train, hoping it would be less crowded? What if I'd kept only a minimum of stuff in my wallet? What if I'd switched to Apple Pay, in which case I could have left my wallet at home!

Anyway, it happened, and it is what it is. I was not physically harmed, everything will eventually get replaced, But travelers, beware! Keep your sharpest attennae out when on public transportation. Wear your bag under your coat, etc.

After a nice lunch, we walked back to Place St. Michel to catch a bus home, passing this appropriate sign along the way...

...also getting a superb view of the biggest crane I've ever seen transferring a huge metal triangle over to some workers on the ridge of the main body of Nôtre Dame. The bulk of the cathedral is still encased in endless metal scaffolding...

...but, as of a week ago, the spire has been unveiled, featuring a golden rooster perched on top of the golden cross.

À Bientôt!