Nocturnes du Vendredi...or...shall we dance?

About three or four times a year, the Louvre opens up some of its galleries for an evening of live performance of contemporary theatre, cinema, dance or music, bringing the galleries to life and inviting the public to stroll through, pause and watch a while, or sit on the floor and take in the whole show. Known as the "Nocturnes du Vendredi", last Friday evening's event featured modern dance works curated by the American (Bay Area!) choreographer, Carolyn Carlson, who now makes her home and her choreography in France.

With our dear friend, Alain, we walked over to the Louvre, the Pyramid glowing brightly in the night sky. For close to two hours we wandered through the Sully and Richelieu wings of the museum, moving from gallery to gallery, from wing to wing, discovering groups of dancers, who performed continuously throughout the evening.



In one of the Oriental Antiquities rooms of the Sully Wing, Sara Orselli used a small space around an ancient sculpted beast to interpret the vocal rantings of her partner, Juha Marsalo, the two of them accompanied on the cello by Alexander Zekke .


A couple of galleries further on, Wu Zheng, clad in a black monk's robe, used the spare, clean pieces of ancient sculptures all around him as a background to his own spare, clean and measured dance, ending quietly by retreating to the corner, and bowing.



One of the highlight performances was in the Assyrian galleries where, surrounded by stunning bas-reliefs of
Assyrian figures...








...Jacky Berger and Céline Maufroid used an overhead video stream to echo their performance on the floor, the whole thing recreating in color, costume and in pose, Michangelo's Sistine Chapel fresco. Extraordinary!



Meanwhile, in the Cour Puget, with its glass roof, a lone dancer, clad in a waist-down gown, made, we think, of paper, seemed to echo the poses of the grand sculptures in front and behind him.








And, last, but not least, in the Cour Marly, displaying the monumental statuary that was orignally carved for the park at the Château de Marly, and dominated by Guillaume Coustou's celebrated 1745 Horses of Marly, an ensemble of dancers moved among the statues, both in the lower area and above on the upper ledge, all of them separate and yet part of an overall movement echoing their splendid surroundings.




Flash forward less than 24 hours, and more dance is offered here in Paris. This time, it's at the Académie Américaine de Danse de Paris, where a performance of Alice in Wonderland (Alice au Pays des Merveilles) brings proud parents and families to applaud the efforts of the students of this popular after-school program, founded in 1901.




Along with Alice and the White Rabbit, both of them dancing à point and with much grace, a cute dormouse, Mad Hatter and Cheshire Cat joined a group of "petites Alices" (the 5 year olds) , a group of adorable mushrooms (the 4 year old students)...




...and the six-year-olds, who had a chance to be a "papillon" (butterfly). As surrogate grandparents here in Paris, we were in attendance to watch as Florence waited for the music cue to begin her performance...






...and somehow managed to be front and center for the final bow. Brava!





We're off to England tomorrow, as the owners of the apartment here in Paris will be in town to reclaim their turf for two weeks.


À bientôt!

Passages of Time

Among the characteristic sights in our part of Paris, in an area roughly between the Grands Boulevards and the Louvre, are the remains of what were at one time dozens and dozens of "Passages" (accent on the second syllable - pa'ssahje). Designed and built in the 19th century, these narrow, glass-covered arcades, constructed within a building block, with entrances at the top and bottom streets and both side streets, offered the public a safe haven from the mud and squalor of the streets. Here, people could stroll at their leisure, window shop, take a coffee, or browse in a book store.

Paved with tile, and covered with an iron and glass framework that cast a luminous light into the space, these Passages enjoyed a fashionable following for many years. However, with the arrival of Baron Haussmann's new city plan for Paris, old, narrow streets were torn up and broad, tree-lined boulevards took their place, offering pedestrians dry sidewalks and, eventually, street lights. Many of the Passages disappeared at this time. Others fell into disarray.


As I walk to the gym (three times a week!), I pass by several of the surviving Passages. They make a lovely detour, a chance to check to see if there's anything new going on.

These days, the Passage Jouffroy on Blvd. Montmartre, on the border of the 2nd and 9th arrondissements, is home to the charming Hotel Chopin at the far end....


...a Best Western hotel at the front street end, several postcard shops, tourist tour offices, a few jewellry shops...




...and a lavish candy store, which looks like it's gearing up for big Easter sales.



Facing the Passage Jouffroy on Blvd. Montmartre, the Passage des Panoramas serves a different clientèle. Even though it is just across the street, this Passage encompasses the bustling business community of the 2nd arrondissement. The grand Bourse building (formerly the stock exchange, now a temporary exhibition space) lies at the far end of the Passage. In between, the side streets are lined with gold, coin and stamp dealers, still doing a thriving business. This neighborhood is also home to most of the major newspapers -- Le Figaro, La Libération, Le Nouvel Observateur, Agence France Presse -- as well as many major insurance and banking companies.





This combination of being part Fleet Street and part Wall Street has made the Passage des Panoramas a favorite, bustling sit-down lunch spot for hundreds of daily workers. At around 11 o'clock every morning, waiters busy themselves setting out the tables that line the entire length of the Passage.






Menu boards post today's "formule" as well as other tempting offerings.

By 1 o'clock hungry customers crowd into the more than two dozen bistros, créperies and cafés, enjoying their lunch break before heading back to work.






Over on the far side of the Bourse, on the rue de la Banque, stands probably the most elegant of all the Passages. It's so elegant it's not even called a Passage, but, instead, Galerie Vivienne. From the fetching two Grecian bas-reliefs above the entrance and the sparkling gilt-edged name...



...to the signature of the mosaic artist who laid the entrance tiles, this Passage breathes the world of chic.






The bas-reliefs continue all along the walls and rotundas at either end. Beautiful chandeliers add to the natural light that pours through the vaulted glass ceiling.


There are no bustling crowds. Indeed, there's only one eatery, the lovely Priori à Thé, with just a couple of tables set out in the Passage. Here you can enjoy a wide variety of teas, and, at lunchtime, a slice of quiche or a delicate salad and sandwich.



Instead of coin and stamp collectors, candy stores or tourist agency offices, the Galerie Vivienne serves the discerning wine connoisseur at the egalitarian Lucien LeGrand, filles et fils (!)...



...several boutiques offering the latest in spring fashions, without posting a single price in the windows...




...and at the far end, one of the most fantastic rare book shops. Tables of recent books are set out in the Passage, along with racks of postcards -- not featuring the usual Parisian icons, but, instead, movie star icons of yesterday, reproductions of early children's literature heros, etc. The windows are filled with first editions and busts of eminent authors. The temptation to linger and browse is overwhelming.



Meanwhile, at the Village Joué Club on the rue Richelieu, the clientèle are of a younger age. The entire Passage is devoted to children's needs, loves, passions. Again, the structure is a real homage to 19th century design. The glass ceiling is kept sparkling clean so you can see the façades of the buildings that surround the Passage.



No wine shops here, no bistros or cafés. Just specialty shop after specialty shop offering exquisite children's clothing, model plane kits, computer games, Lego kits galore, dollhouses, and adorable stuffed animals. On a quiet weekday morning, there are no children to be seen. Just a few of us adults, gazing, misty-eyed, at the astonishing array of delights that still bring out the kid in all of us.




Our apartment building on the rue Ste. Anne forms part of yet another Passage. This one, alas, is showing sad signs of the passage of time. The name itself, Passage Choiseul, is missing letters on a side street entrance.





The main entrance off of rue St. Augstin still has a sort of faded elegance about it, even though the flower boxes above are neglected.

(By the way, the gentleman in the blue shirt on the sidewalk is Monsieur Serge, my hairdresser, taking a quick cigarette and phone break from his busy salon behind him!)





Inside, the vaulted glass ceiling is covered with some kind of opaque plastic sheeting to prevent rainwater leaking through the broken panes, giving a gloomy look to everything. The tile floor is cracked and patched in many places. Several stores are going out of business or are boarded up.

In spite of its rough, gritty edges, though, we feel a warm friendship for this Passage. After all, it's our Passage! Setting aside its downtrodden appearance, it's a busy place during the week -- no sit-down cafés but lots of counter service take-out spots that have the weekday office workers lining up every day. These stand cheek by jowl with cheap dress shops, more postcard stands and a paperback book shop.




And for a really wide selection of reasonably priced and good looking shoes, there are at least five shops vying for my business every time I walk through...and getting it from time to time.





In another sign of the passage of time, I'm happy to report that we've packed away our down coats and winter boots, it's still light at 7 pm, the flower beds in the Palais Royal gardens are bursting forth with daffodils and hyacinths, and a brave magnolia tree is showing its first blossoms







Finally, the view from our living room window looks over the sloping roof of the Passage Choiseul, which is slowly disappearing behind the newly flowering mystery tree!

Spring is almost sprung!


À bientôt!

From the sublime to, well, the sublime...

It really is all about "scale" in the musical world of Paris. On Tuesday last, I remembered there was to be a concert at Nôtre Dame, but hadn't been smart enough to go to FNAC and buy a ticket in advance. So, trusting to luck, I jumped on the metro (line #3 to Sébastapol-Réamur, change to line #4 to Cité), and managed to snag one of the last 10 euro spots.

I had not even understood that the concert would present Beethoven's Missa Solemnis! No wonder all that was available were 10 euro spots -- which meant that if I peered around one column, I could see the soprano and mezzo soprano and part of the massive choir, and if I peered around the other side, I could see the conductor, John Nelson! Luckily, I didn't need to "see" in order to "hear" this sublime work.




Composed between 1819 and 1823, the Missa Solemnis is considered one of Beethoven's supreme achievements. The orchestration of the piece features a quartet of vocal soloists, a substantial chorus, and the full orchestra, and each at times is used in the most beautiful and virtuosic, textural, and melodic capacities. This particular performance featured Tamara Wilson, soprano, Patricia Bardon, mezzo soprano, Stanford Olsen, Tenor, and Luca Pisaroni, Basse. With the Nôtre Dame Choir, and the Choeur de l'Armée Française, and the Ensemble Orchestral de Paris, under the direction of the afore-mentioned John Nelson.



In the majestic setting of Nôtre Dame, this magnificent work was completely transporting. As well as the beautiful voices of the soloists, and of the choirs, there is a fantastic section in the "Sanctus" that features a solo violin, that makes you feel you are on your way to heaven! No wonder the audience leapt up at the conclusion -- which, far from being a rousing finale, is a very quiet "Amen". Bouquets of flowers were presented, many bows were taken and, slowly, the performers, orchestra, and audience made their way out into the soft Paris night .



Cut forward less than 24 hours, and here's another sublime musical experience. On Wednesdays, there is no school in Paris for students attending the public schools -- an opportunity for all kinds of "activités" to fill those hours. One such activity is the monthly program, Les Concerts du Mercredi. Organized by Marianne Vourch, with support from various cultural organizations, this program introduces students from age 6 and up to the world of classical music.

Luckily for me, I have personal access to two adorable young students who attend the French public schools, and the three of us headed out Wednesday afternoon to the very charming, intimate Espace Léopold Bellan in the 8th arrondissement.




As we took our seats, Madame Marianne Vourch, the director of the program, presented this month's musical group, the Parisii Quartet (Arnaud Vallin, first violin, Jean-Michel Berrette, second violin, Bruno Pasquier, viola, and Jean-Philippe Martignoni, cello). The program for the month of March focussed on Russian Composers: Borodin, Tchaikovsky and Shostakovich. In a delightful and interactive manner, Madame Vourch introduced the young audience to the life and music of these three composers.




Very aware of their young audience, the Parisii Quartet could not have been more charming and accessible. Sitting in the second row, the three of us found ourselves quite spellbound at being that close to the musicians, completely rivetted as we watched their fingers running up and down their instruments, which, along with their bows, produced the most wonderful sounds! The cellist, Jean-Philippe Martignoni, was a particular favorite. He threw himself into each movement the group played as if he were performing at the Salle Pleyel or, maybe, Nôtre Dame, instead of to a group of maybe 25 young schoolchildren, aged 6 to 10.




Certainly my two charming companions could not have been happier as they snagged autographs from Jean-Philippe and a couple of the other musicians at the end of the concert.

As we walked back over to the #95 bus to go home, I marvelled at the two musical experiences I had had in less than 24 hours -- the traditional, grand setting of Nôtre Dame, but then also the equally sublime setting of the Espace Léopold Bellan, where, perhaps, tomorrow's classical music audiences are being nurtured, thanks to Les Concerts du Mercredi.



À bientôt!

Sunday in Paris

You can usually count on Sunday mornings being pretty quiet and tranquil in most of Paris, and especially in our neighborhood where there are many offices and businesses, which are closed on the weekend.

However, down by the Place Bastille, it's anything but quiet or tranquil. The Marché Richard Lenoir sets up before dawn, running four aisles wide down the center median strip of Avenue Richard Lenoir for several blocks, and offering the biggest variety of fresh foods in almost all of Paris.

Shoppers come from all over the city to take advantage of the astonishing range of foods and other goods offered. And not just from Paris. You hear dozens of different languages, along with French, as tourists also flock to soak up some authentic French Market atmosphere.




This morning, I counted at least four large fish stalls, all well stocked and most of them well attended. It's pretty clear which ones are the best:
they always have the longest queues, and they always sell out the fastest.









Whether you fancy a slab of hake (tranche colin), or filet of cod (dos du cabillaud)....








....or perhaps shrimp, lobster, crayfish, sea urchins, you will not go home empty-handed.








Not to mention the oysters (les huitres), the displays of which would give our local West Marin Drake's Bay Oyster Farm pause for thought!


Are you hungry yet?





The overwhelming numbers of stalls, though, devote themselves to fresh, delicious, fragrant produce, each stall owner proudly and loudly proclaiming the superiority of his or her particular cauliflowers or leeks or salads or carrots, squash, turnips, potatoes, celery...

French law dictates that stall holders must show where their produce is grown, passing the burden of being a strict locavore (or not) onto the buyer. How badly do I want to buy those juicy looking Spanish oranges, crisp Kenyan green beans, Algerian tomatoes....?




As this stall owner finishes filling a bag of mixed salad for a customer, he says (as do all stall owners) "et avec ceci, madame..." which means, literally, "and with this, Madame", but which really means "what else will you be buying from me today, Madame..." And it's always easy to find something else when you're confronted with so much good stuff to choose from!








Some stalls focus on just a few vegetables, like this gentleman with his mountain of carrots









Others prefer to specialize in fresh herbs....









...and still others in wild varieties of mushrooms!


Now, are you hungry?




Somewhere in the middle of the market and, in some ways, taking the central place in French eating is the all-important stall selling bread: baguette, pain levain, brioche, croissant, pain multicéréales, pain de mie, or just plain pain blanc. Whichever you choose, you can be sure it came out of the oven just a few short hours ago.









Once you have bread, of course, then you need cheese. And once again, the choices are endless!

Along with Cantal (a cheddar-type cheese), my favorites are the...









...many chèvres. Yum! I'm definitely hungry...








They don't have live chickens at these markets any more, but they do offer the next best thing: fresh farm eggs, at just 15 centimes a pop. I love how these are displayed.







In an earlier era, this sign could be found in every neighborhood, right alongside the local butcher and baker and greengrocer...







...and, judging by the line at this stall, there's no shortage of French families who still enjoy a bit of horse meat. The choice may well be economic. Beef, pork and lamb are expensive.









Here's another sign that indicates "specialties" -- Triperie...











....meaning, here are all those various so-called "organ" meats, like liver, kidneys, brains, sweetbreads, heart, tripe itself...and, let's not forget...







...tongue!

Lost your appetite now? Never mind....









...You actually can go to this market and not buy food. Maybe you need a whirligig for your balcony, or another kitchen knife, or a magnifying glass, cigarette lighter, key chain







Not to mention all the missing bits and bobs from your kitchen drawers.






Finally, along with every French newspaper imaginable, for those of us who hunger for news from abroad, you have your choice of leading English Sunday papers and the good old International Herald Tribune, perfect for those of us who need to exercise their brain by tackling the Sunday NY Times crossword puzzle.




Armed with my newspaper, I headed back home on the #29 bus, whose route provided just about door to door service. My market purchases this week were modest: three small pots of herbs - thyme, rosemary and English parsley - to put on the shelf outside the kitchen window. And a little bunch of fresh jonquils for the kitchen table.




Later in the afternoon, I strolled over to the 17th century Église St. Roch, on rue Ste. Honoré, where violinist Dominique d'Arco and his 15-year-old pupil, Jonathan Dong, presented a recital of works by Tartini, J.S. Bach, Leclair, Pleyel, and six duos from Bela Bartok's 44 Duos for Violin. One of seventeen free concerts offered in churches all over Paris today.

Just a normal, ordinary Sunday in Paris, with everything you could possibly want to nourish the body and the soul.


À bientôt!