Last Minute Surprises!

It seems to be the same every year. As our time winds down here in Paris, we scurry around trying to do all the things we have forgotten to do, appreciating one more time the regular patterns of our daily life, etc., when, suddenly, we will stumble across some entirely new and unexpected pleasures.

My mind has been occupied this past week, thinking that this is the last Sunday Herald Tribune I'll be buying from our local, friendly Point Presse on the rue Montorgeuil...

...my last café crème at La Grappe D'Or, across the street from La Presse, which is our favorite local cafe for breakfast, lunch or dinner...

...where a simple "tarte citron" comes with a raspbery swirl underneath and freshly whipped cream, making it look (and taste!) like nectar...

...the last Monday session of "La Soupe" at the large Trinité Church in the 9th arrondissement, where a group of us (French, American, English) volunteer every week to wash, peel and chop many many kilos of vegetables...

...consult with our main cook, Laurent...

...who somehow, magically, manages to turn the raw ingredients into giant cauldrons of delicious soup...

...which we then serve to over 200 of the city's less fortunate residents in a formal setting in the crypt.

My mind was occupied the other day with these, and all the other parts of our life here that I will miss, when, walking in one of Paris' most busy and tourist-laden areas, right by the Centre George Pompidou, I noticed a little "impasse" (cul-de-sac) leading off the bustling, noisy rue Beaubourg. What looked like a small park was just visible, so I wandered down to take a look. The park celebrates the life of Anne Frank, but round the corner at the end of the "impasse", what caught my eye even more was this awning  announcing "Musée de la Poupée" -- a Doll Museum! Intrigued, I went in to take a look.

An astonishing series of rooms led me through a private collection of dolls, gathered over the past 30 years by an Italian family, Guido Odin and his son, Samy. Beginning in 1981 in Piedmont, Italy, with one 19th century doll, their love for this art form grew to the point they wanted to share the collection with the public. Their home in Torre Pellice soon became too small, and they made the big decision to bring the dolls to Paris, where they opened this museum in 1994.

Organized chronologically by date, the first displays show dolls made of wood from the early 1800s. The tall standing one is Grödner Tal, (1820), the oldest doll in the Museum.

Wood then gave way to wax. Among the most beautiful of these, the head and the limbs would be made of solid wax, and the torso of cotton and soft fabrics. The more affordable models used papier-mâché as a base, finished with a wax covering.

Papier-mâché became a popular material for dolls made in Germany, whilst France began experimenting with porcelain, sometimes just the head and limbs, but often also the torso, as you can see with the chubby dolly standing on the right!

By the end of the 19th century, though, doll manufacturers sought a more practical material to porcelain and "biscuit", something unbreakable. Pretty soon, "carton bouilli" (a process of boiling and shaping cardboard), came into vogue, followed by celluloid. 

 As well as being sure the dolls were dressed in clothing of "their" era, the Odins wanted to place them in the correct setting. As you walk through the museum, the displays become more and more elaborate, like this highly detailed "salon" from the Napoleon III years.

I especially loved this Léon C. Bru doll and her little table with its lace cloth, because her tea service is the exact replica of my Grandmother's, which I have in my china cabinet in Inverness! She has a head and body of wax with wooden articulated arms and hands -- all the better to pour your "nice cup of tea"!

Along with indoor references, some displays put you in certain neighborhoods -- that's the statue of Louis XIV in the Place Victoire, visible in the background through the window. We can lean out of our 5th floor flat today and see the same view!

This one overlooks the Luxembourg Gardens with its many lovely statues and walkways.

Almost my favorite of the "you are there" scenes is this classroom, with the little boy wearing the dunce's cap kneeling in front of the abacus, trying to do his sums, and the latecomer at the back, who is sad because there is no seat for him! All the dolls have such expressive looks and personalities in how they wear their hair, whether they are smiling or crying, eyes wide open, mouths closed, etc.

This one, however, gave me pause. Shortly after their arrival in Paris, Guido commissioned the French artist, Catherine Dève, to make these two dolls in the likeness of his son Samy at age 4, and his wife (Samy's mother), Vera, when she was a child. You can see photographs of them both hanging on the wall. Something about the scale of them seemed out of proportion with the other dolls. They look so like their photos, it's almost a bit creepy!

At the end of the day, though, it is a remarkable collection, still so lovingly maintained by a family truly devoted to a unique art form, and I was delighted to have stumbled across it.

My stumblings continued.  This past week, they took me way out to the 15th arrondissement and the Institut Pasteur. Today, a bustling, sprawling group of buildings devoted to extraordinary medical research, its origins and the story of the man for whom it is named, are housed in a delightful (unknown to me) museum...

...le Musée Pasteur, documenting and honoring the life of Louis Pasteur (1822-1895). In this 1888 stone and brick building, in the style of Louis XIII, the genius chemist, Pasteur, lived out his last years, still pursuing his discoveries and research in the world of microbiology.

The second and third floors of the building were put at Pasteur's disposal for himself and his family. In spite of the roped-off walkway, the velvet and woven-cloth wall coverings and furnishings give the feeling of a warm, elegant, comfortable home.

Less so, perhaps, the "formal" dining room, with its long table around which one could imagine Pasteur at the head, with a dozen or more leading scientists of the day gathered for food and discussions of the latest challenges and discoveries in their research...

...overseen by this large portrait of Pasteur in his laboratory, by the Finnish painter, Albert Edelfelt.

 And, of course, it is in the lab that you learn all that this man discovered and passed on to the rest of us!

From a simple microscope, and his position in 1854 of Professor of Chemistry at the University of Lille...

 ...to a laboratory full of fellow scientists and assistants, Louis Pasteur pioneered the study of molecular asymmetry, discovered that micro-organisms can cause fermentation and disease, originated the theory that by boiling liquids (such as milk) and letting them cool, bacteria can be killed and the liquids stay fresh -- what we call today "Pasteur"-ization!!

 In 1879, Pasteur developed a vaccine for chicken cholera. He went on to extend his germ theory to develop causes and vaccinations for diseases such as anthrax, cholera, TB and smallpox.

By 1882, Pasteur was one of the leading scientists anywhere. But his biggest discovery was still to come. Working with rabbits, he developed a vaccine against rabies, a huge problem at the time. In 1885, he vaccinated a young boy, Joseph Meister, who had been bitten by a rabid dog. Miraculously, he survived. Check out the little jar in the photo above with the word "moelle" written on the label. It contains the bone marrow of the rabid rabbit Pasteur worked on. (And try saying "rabid rabbit" ten times, very fast!!)

Honors, awards and prizes came in a never-ending stream to Louis Pasteur, whose failing health did not deter him from continuing his research until his death on September 28th, 1895.

After a state funeral in Notre Dame, Pasteur's family declined the State's desire to have his body buried in the Pantheon. Instead, they brought their beloved Louis home to the Institut Pasteur, where this extraordinary chapel was built on the ground floor. Using mosaic tiles and a neo-Byzantine style, the crypt walls and ceiling are covered with illustrations of Pasteur's many achievements. In the centre on the surface of the cupola, four figures with haloes and outspread wings connect one to the other. Three of them are the divine Graces "Faith", "Hope", and "Charity". The fourth is "Science", because for Pasteur, this was the fourth Grace. As he put it, she was "daughter, sister and mother of the three others."

Today, there are  Pasteur Institutes all over the world, where scientists work in state-of-the-art laboratories, continuing to discover new cures, new medicines, new pathways to combat disease. Pasteur would, surely, be very pleased!

One final delight for us this year has been the many visits we have made to the new concert hall for the Philharmonie de Paris, out at the Parc de la Villette in the 19th arrondissement. Designed by Jean Nouvel, the building itself looks like some brutalist bunker, and no matter how many times we went there, we liked the building less and less! However, once inside, the acoustics are quite extraordinary, and we have heard some wonderful music from Joshua Bell, Anne-Sophie Mütter, the Royal Concertgebouw, Murray Perahia and Daniel Barenboim, among others. Sheer heaven!

Our final concert, though, was a little different. Held in the Petite Salle at the Philharmonie, it featured the first concert of the children's choir of l'Orchestre de Paris, newly-formed last September. The youngsters, between the ages of 9 and 14, came from three different arrondissements in Paris. They had rehearsed diligently once or twice a week, learning the English words and melodies of Ralph Vaughan Williams lovely Folk Songs of the Four Seasons. On June 12th, they gave their inaugural concert and were directed by the English choral maestro, Stephen Cleobury (Kings College, Cambridge!).

They all sang beautifully, especially (we thought) our grand-niece, the elegant young woman in the back row on the right!

And now, dear friends, it's time for us to put away our memories, pack our bags, and head back to peaceful, tranquil Inverness, California. This has been the fastest six months ever! Thanks to all for reading the blog, for the emails, for the comments, for the Facebook and Twitter "follows". Have a wonderful summer and fall!

Au revoir!

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La Belle Corse

The beautiful island of Corsica lies in the Mediterranean Sea, southeast of the French mainland, north of Sardinia, west of Italy. One of the 27 regions of France, it is designated as a collectivité territoriale by law, enjoying greater powers than other regions, which its small population of 322,000 proudly embraces.

114 miles long, 52 miles wide at its widest, it is essentially all rugged mountains that tumble down almost to the coastline.

When you fly into Ajaccio, on the southern end of the island, you seem to just "pop out" from the mountains and swoop down over the Bay of Ajaccio to land at Napoleon Bonaparte Airport (so named because Ajaccio is the birthplace of Napoleon I).

All the way across the Bay of Ajaccio (which is as big as San Francisco Bay), the little peninsula of Isolella houses a small beachfront community of both local Corsicans and loyal mainland visitors.

Included among the latter are dear friends of ours who have owned this beautiful villa here for over 30 years and spend a good part of their time down here. We were certainly happy to once again be joining them for a few days!

Since our last visit, the already lovely terrace has doubled in size, with sunny and shady corners, pretty potted plants, cosy chaise-longues and umbrellas.

All of which makes it very tempting to spend all day moving slowly from one corner to the other, following or sheltering from the warm sunshine!

Luckily, we know better!  Literally two steps across the road, following a little footpath, you find yourself facing this marvel of aquamarine water, granite rocks, bobbing sailboats...

 ...and, in the other direction, this seemingly endless stretch of soft golden sand, surprisingly unpopulated on this early June morning.

Since our last visit, a few new shops have opened up, inlcuding this elegant bakery, open daily...

...offering mouth watering rows of tarts and "petits gateaux"...

...and an impressive array of "flutes", baguettes and other breads, all baked fresh and available seven days a week! (You will not find that kind of service so easily in Paris...)

Another new feature for us, is this mobile fish stand that sets up shop twice a week outside a nearby market, bringing the morning's "catch" to the neighborhood...

Keeping the fish fresh in the refrigerated truck, and protecting those on the counter with ice and large umbrellas, the lovely couple were doing a brisk business when we arrived.

After careful deliberation, we chose a whole Saint Pierre fish (John Dory in the States) for dinner that night, and five or six generous handfuls of the langoustines (crayfish) for lunch the next day. Our mouths began watering at the prospect!

Corsica has many food specialities, including a great selection of goat and sheep cheeses...

...the most famous being "Brocciu". Produced from a mix of ewe's milk and whey, it's considered the national dish of the island. When it's really fresh, it's almost like eating cream, perfect with ripe, sweet strawberries!

Not to be outdone, Corsican sausage comes in a close second, with a wide variety of sizes, shapes and flavors.

As well as lounging on the terrace and the beach every day, we took a drive late one afternoon up into the mountains, to look for a 14th century Génois bridge that Alain had found recently.

Once you leave the coast, you are almost immediately in the mountains that cover the skyline in every direction, sheltering small towns that cling to the edges. Settlements have been here since the earliest arrivals, providing much more safety and protection from invading forces (both human and meteorogical) than the coastal communities.

We took the road toward Cauro, then headed on in the direction of Bastelica and Tolla. The road climbed up and up, got twistier and twistier, switchback after switchback, the forest closing in on all sides.

Suddenly, Alain braked, backed up, parked off the road and pointed to the sign tucked into the side: "Pont Génois à 300 ml"! Most people would have driven by without noticing.

We headed down the path, following our intrepid leader...

...admiring the pretty wildflowers along the way...

...this one reminded me of a wild hyacanth...

...and this sweet rock rose was blooming all over the place!

 We kept on walking on this quiet little trail, with ferns, bracken and trees around us, and always more mountains in the distance.

Then suddenly, we turned a corner, went down a slope, and there it was, the Pont Génois!

 The worn, rough stones beckoned and we walked over to the other side and down below to really see it.

The perfect arch, stretching over a lovely creek, and mirrored in the still waters. It was so quiet you could hear your breath.

The Italian State of Genoa took over power in Corsica in the 13th century, when they defeated the Pisans. During the centuries that followed, the island became a pawn in the ongoing battles between France and Spain, with the Genoese ceding power, then retaking power, wars and battles without end. But throughout it all, the Génois continued building bridges like this one to connect the towns and villages of the mountain regions. Finally, in the 18th century, exhausted, the Republic of Genoa sold the island to France. Interestingly, the Corsican rebels who then fought the French bitterly, received aid from Britain (!) who, for a brief period in the 19th century, held sovereignty over the island, before it was finally returned to the restored French Monarchy.

We spent some time marvelling at this simple style and construction that has endured all these centuries amid all those conflicts, still sturdily and proudly holding its place.

A brightly colored lizard kept us company for a while!

The two old friends climbed out on the rocks, looking for  (and spotting) several small trout...

...whilst I went back and forth over the top of the arch, listening for the footsteps of all those who had crossed before, for the rattle of wagons, the clip-clop of donkeys and horses, the shouts of soldiers, the laughter of children. It was, truly, a magical place.

Later that evening, on the beautiful terrace of the Villa Aloha, we enjoyed a scrumptious farewell dinner, cooked by Alain, and raised our glasses to another memorable sojourn on the "Île de Beauté": La Belle Corse!

À bientôt!

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