City of Lights, Camera, Action!

Living not just in Paris, and not just in the center of Paris, but in the heart of the center of Paris, I often feel like I am living in a movie set. And, it turns out, I am. Most of the photos for this blog were taken "by accident;" that is, I saw the spot, found it magical, took the photo, and it is only as I put this posting together that I now realize that many of them are, indeed, famous film locations. The others just should be.

My friend Fabrice who lives in the 5th, right off the famous rue Mouffetard, tells me that during the filming of Julie & Julia, the street was re-done, at great effort and rather convincingly, a la 1920s. And then, at the end, brought back to the 21st century. Below is a promotional photo for the movie, taken from http://cinema.jeuxactu.com/test-dvd-zone-2-julie-et-julia-8583.htm. Below that is what I think might be the same spot (church steps on the right, far yellow building down the hill, general location of the cafe, and just look at the placement of those bittes -- the round stone pillars that keep cars off the pedestrian area). I know some of the big buildings on the left side of the street are different but am thinking they've been photoshopped in.

One thing I do know, is that the spot in my three photos above -- the square at Eglise St. Etienne du Mont with its neighboring alley and cobblestone street -- is definitely the critical place in the recent Woody Allen film Midnight in Paris. The first time I came across this spot, I had this eerie feeling of déja-vu, and I've since looked it up to verify that this is, indeed, the magic spot in the movie. It wouldn't have taken much movie wizardry to make this spot feel magical. Standing in this spot, it's impossible not to wish you could go back in time and see Paris in its different époques (eras).

Below is a photo taken one day while I am chaperoning P's class to the pool for their weekly swim lesson. I take the photo because I think it's such a lovely art-deco building, because I love the turqouise color, because I think I might do a posting someday about her swim class, or because I love the fact that one of the grandmothers who is also chaperoning tells me that she learned to swim in this pool -- the Piscine Pontoise, in the 5th -- and so did her mother, and so did her grandmother. That makes at least five generations learning to swim in this same stunning pool. And if that's not enough to make somebody want to take a photo or write a blog posting, I can't imagine what would do it. Well, it turns out this pool is famous as the pool in the Kieslowski film Bleu where Juliette Binoche swims.

Another spot I've photographed many times now is the Eglise (church) St. Severin in the 5th. This is partly because G has her school choir concert there, and partly because I think a movie should be filmed in the courtyard, though I don't know if one already has been.

 

All the spots listed above are in the 5th arrondissement. The spots below are in the 4th -- just on the other side of the Seine. I can't tell you a specific film for any of these spots, only that when I walk through them, I feel like I'm in a movie. I walk the cobbled street of rue des Barres in the photo just below every week many times when I head up to the heart of the Marais (and G's dance lessons). And every single time, it makes me happy. Genuinely, song-in-my-heart, smile-on-my-face, bounce-in-my-step happy. It takes me by one of the oldest (arguably the oldest) medeival colombage residence in Paris and leads me by Eglise St.-Gervais-St.-Protais down through the alley. It is, as you have probably surmised, one of my favorite spots in all of Paris.

And once I get to the other side, and to the square in front of the Hotel de Ville, there has been for many months now one, or even two, great old-fashioned carousels. You can see Notre Dame in the background. The carousels are not permanent but apparently come back every year (or several times each year). I can't tell if I think this scene should be part of a family film, or action/suspense.

Just across a different bridge heading into the Marais, from Ile St. Louis, is this lovely old building below. Built around the year 1500, it is now the Bibliothèque Forney, an art-and-architecture library (with occasional exhibits) on the impossibly-named rue des Nonnains d'Hyères. I think it is just a matter of time before Kate Winslet is walking this garden, laced up in a corset.

An old friend of mine was here on a business trip from Sweden a few days ago, and we spent many hours in a brasserie (restaurant, but more French) on Ile St. Louis called the St. Régis. This photo really does not do it justice at all. The ambience is so perfect, Thomas actually looked over at the door at one point and said, "I keep expecting Jean Reno to walk in" -- Jean Reno being one of most famous and classically French-seeming of all the French actors, despite the fact that he was born in Morocco. His credits include Mission:Impossible, Hotel Rwanda, Pink Panther 2, the Da Vinci Code, and way too many other films to list. The St. Régis may not have as many films to its name, but it should. One morning I heard a screech, a crash, and the sound of glass shattering and turned the corner to see a car plowed into some outdoor cafe tables -- for a movie scene, of course.

(Photo of Jean Reno from http://www.premiere.fr/Star/Jean-Reno-79540)

I have been thinking about writing this posting for the past few days and just started on Friday night to gather these photos. I did think at that time, with a little regret, "I wish I had some photos of an actual shoot going on." So, naturally, Saturday morning, we have some friends over for brunch, and at one point somebody looks out the window and says, "What is that model doing?" Well, I grab my camera and run out and I can tell you that what she is doing: She is making love to a bass cello while freezing her ass off. Although, coming from the emaciated-tall-and-skinny school of modeling, she doesn't have much of an ass to start with.

You can see in the top right photo here that there's a real band playing. I assume the crew came out for a fashion shoot without props and then they themselves were inspired by the surroundings. They borrowed the bass cello from the band that was busking on the bridge (making it a "busking bridge band-borrowed bass:" say that five times fast). Anthony and the girls and I are trying to guess what it's an ad for: clothes? shoes? make up? perfume? frozen chicken patties? It could really be anything.

Amazingly, since I published this posting this morning, I already have a new shot to add. G just looked out our window on Ile St. Louis and exclaimed, "They're filming a movie!" A mysterious and moody woman in dark sunglasses and scarf just got into this Bentley (I think: I'm no car person...). Here, the man by the side of the car is holding a small camera, continuing to shoot her looking, presumably, mysterious and moody inside the back seat.

There are, of course, too many other spots and films I could include. I haven't even touched the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower. They're not right out my doorstep, after all. But if I'm too lazy to go visit them in person, I can always see them on the silver screen.

Interested in touring Paris sites used as locations in films? Here are some links for you:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2011/jun/03/top-10-films-on-paris
http://www.filmaps.com/france/paris/
http://www.movie-locations.com/places/europe/france.html

My Moment in High Fashion

This afternoon, I head out to visit the Bibliotheque nationale de France (BnF) François Mitterand, the national library in Paris, a building along the Seine in the 13th arrondissement notorious for being ugly. It turns out, however, that the building I have always thought was the BnF is actually the Insitute Français de la Mode (IFM, French Institute of Fashion), which is a building along the Seine in the 13th arrondissement notorious for being ugly. Understandable error, perhaps. But they are ugly in drastically different ways:

UGLY BY DESIGN: Institute Français de la Mode

I admit: That last photo (taken from http://projets-architecte-urbanisme.fr/docks-en-seine-cite-mode-design-paris-rive-gauche/) looks almost attractive. Almost.

UGLY BY THE BOOK: Bilbliotheque nationale de France

(Photo of the Bibliotheque nationale de France François Mitterand taken from www.france-for-visitors.com ). Are they meant to respresent two half-open books? Book-ends? Just some tall modern-looking buildings?

At the IFM but still unaware I am at the wrong building, I follow people upstairs and see a sign for an exhibition. Artist? Illustrator? Something special put on by the library? And then I walk in to a room that is a) clearly not a library entrance and b) filled with racks of clothing, shelves of shoes, tables with laptops, and chic, high-heeled people, many of them Asian, milling about and looking like they belong. There is even a bar serving coffee and pastries. What isn't there is a price on anything or any obvious salespeople, so it becomes clear to me pretty quickly that I am an interloper.

I have inadvertantly wandered into a show for Lanvin, a fashion designer. I end up taking prohibited photos of Lanvin's first-ever winter line for children. Below, front left, is an approximately 1,000€ rain coat that you may be seeing next year in magazines and high-end children's clothing stores but not, actually, on my children. Like triple-cream brie on the dinner plate of a recent heart-attack victim, it's just too rich for my blood. 

The mini-dress dress on one of the several impossibly tall, thin, pale models wandering around, is about 3,800€. Though it isn't an evening gown, it does have some intricate detail; but still, your guess about price of the evening gowns below is as good as mine. Or, if you have any fashion sense and/or buy your clothes at expensive boutiques, your guess is much better than mine. If you know me, you know that I am not only a Gap-Banana Republic-J Crew kind of gal, I am a Gap-Banana Republic-J Crew-bought-secondhand-at-my-favorite-Goodwill kind of gal.

After I have surreptitiously taken as many photos as I feel like, I ask for help, sure that this will expose me. Sure enough, the woman is stunned that I am just a regular person who has wandered in off the street. This is a strictly invite-only event for premier wholesale buyers. She asks slightly incredulously, "You just came in off the street?"

"Why, yes. I thought this was the library."

"You saw the Lanvin sign?"


"Well, I was just following other people in."

"But you know of Lanvin?"

I lied, of course. Wouldn't you? "Yes, of course. I love Lanvin. Very beautiful." I could have been talking about plumbing flanges for all I know.

Since I am mostly honest about how I got there, and laugh about it, and tell her I am a writer, she is rather gentle as she hustles me out the door. She does at least tell me the prices I ask for and get me the business card of a PR person. What she can't tell me, however, is to where to find the library.

Cake & Pain

Cake & Pain is a headline announcing neither food poisoning nor a sudden affliction of gluten-intolerance. Actually, it is the name of a cafe/bakery I once saw in Japan, and I have always loved it as the ultimate example demonstrating the problems of mixing languages and, in that case specifically, French and English. As you start to read the sign, your brain automatically recognizes "cake" as an English word and wants to continue on. Then you find yourself saying "pain" and only after the meaning sinks in do you realize they meant to advertise bread, not agony.

Well, hello franglais. Enchanté and nice to meet you. When I was here in 1987 as a camp counselor (one month near Biarritz, exchange program during college), the Académie française, the government-appointed body created in 1635 for the purpose of defining and protecting the French language, was waging a war to keep French pure and unpolluted by English. You can easily see as you walk the streets here that that battle was long ago lost (or won, I suppose, if you do in fact want the English language to conquer the world. Mwa-ha-ha-haaaa -- evil world-domination laugh). There is English on signage everywhere, and more than that, even native French speakers speak a kind of franglais with each other.

For the first month or so, every time one of the girls would seem like they were about to run into a road without looking, I would yell, "Arrêtez!" I was the only idiot out there screaming that, because all the French people were yelling to their children to "Stop!" I've asked French people about this and they shrug -- never having given it much thought. "Well, it's just quicker to say it in English."

The classic example is "le weekend." If you try to say "la fin de la semaine," ("the end of the week"), you will probably get corrected. I am also the only idiot using the term "courriel" when all the French are not only sending "email," I've even heard them conjugating it like a French verb: j'email, tu emails, il/elle/on email, nous emailons, vous emailez, ils/elles emailent. Needless to say, virtually all words computer-related come from English (surfer l'internet, le blog, le software, le smartphone...) except, ironically, "computer," which is "ordinateur."

But it's not just technology. It's also words about style, food, and daily living. Examples are everywhere and, often, mixed in quite naturally with French. Sitting at my breakfast table, I look at the Special K box and discover that they have eight flavors of the cereal that will let me, "bye-bye la routine!" Or, did you know that pop singer Shakira is, according to Télé magazine, "In love avec un frenchie?" I do, because I speak fluent franglais, and because I spotted it at the supermarket, where all important news is transmitted. You can't tell me the French don't have a word for "good-bye", "love" or "Frenchman". They just think the English sounds cool.

As you can imagine, this is all especially confusing for P, age 6, 1st grade, as she learns to read in both French and English at the same time.

"Glaces," she reads the above sign, found in a small, non-touristy town in Normandy, rhyming it with "faces."

"No, that's in French."

"Oh. Glaces," she says in French, so that it sounds roughly like the English word "gloss." She continues: "Crêpes. Milk-shake [pronounced meelk-shock]."

"No, that's in English."

"Oh. Milk-shake," she corrects herself. "Juicy [I said they use a lot of English, but I didn't say they always use it correctly]. Desserts. Maison [Reads like Mason]."

"No, that last one was in French."

"Oh. Maison."

And so, mes chers amies, je vous dis bye-bye and au revoir pour today.

The Only Thing Constant is Change

When the pastry costs 1€ 80 centimes, I often give 2€ and 5 centimes in order to get a quarter back. They look at me funny, of course, and turn around and hand me back the 5 centimes, along with the 20 centimes they would have given me in the first place.

There are 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, and 50 centimes, along with 1€ and 2€, coins, but I frequently still find myself thinking in terms of 1, 5, 10, 25, and trying to give them coins so that I can get the least possible amount of change, accordingly. My thought process works something like this: "This costs 11,43€ (we would write 11.43€). So if I give him 12€ I get back 62 centimes. But if I can give him 3 centimes, I would get back 65 centimes." 62 centimes is actually only three coins -- 50, 10, and 2 -- as is 65 centimes, so it does me no good. But I try anyway. If this reminds you of my time-telling issues (which are now worse, because my rental phone failed to fall back at the time change in October, so all of my previous calculations have to be re-jiggered), just be glad you're not the person behind me in line. Adding to that poor person's exasperation is the fact that I am still sloooooooow when it's time to recognize my coins. I stop to examine each one carefully, looking for the denomination.

Anthony, who is far more mathematically-minded than I am, has his own money problems, since the girls have started playing with our foreign-coin collection and mixing them in with the regular change jar. At first, it is unclear to Anthony why the shopkeeper won't accept his 2€ coin, until he realizes it is, in fact, a Thai coin -- just the right size, with the silver ring around a copper-colored center. [Look above in the photo: I lined up all denominations of coins at the top, from left to right: 2€, 1€, then 50, 20, 10, 5, 2, 1 centimes. And if you look just below the 2 centimes piece, you will see what looks like a 2€ coin but is, in fact, the Thai coin, sandwiched between the 2 centimes piece and a real 2€ coin.]

I've been trying to spend down the change jar lately. When you have coins up to 2€, and the smallest paper bill is 5€ (about $7), you end up with a lot in the change jar. At almost any moment, I could come up with $50 worth of coins. Just the handful above, for example, is over 20€, or nearly $30. Several times, when I've realized I didn't have cash in my pocket nor time to stop at the ATM, I've just grabbed a big handful of coins and made it through my day without problems. Other than the woman behind me in line glaring at me impatiently. And the fact that I don't know the time. And the sagging pockets, that is. 

Meet My Best Friend, What's-her-name

P came home from school the first week excited to tell us "I have a best friend! I played with her all day!"

"What's her name?"

"I don't know. I think it starts with a 'Sss' sound..."

And so it goes.  G and I still need to ask a few times to get a name right. But for poor P and Anthony, neither of whom are terribly good with names anyway, it may take weeks or months. P is the girl who once described her best friend, the child with whom she had played every day at school for nearly two solid years, as "that girl with curly hair." I am happy to report that by now P and G do, in fact, know their friends' names. But there are still more to learn, and each time we find ourselves asking, "Say that again? How do you spell that?" and repeating the same rigamarole the second and even third time we meet someone new.  

From around 1800 until 1966, all names given on birth certificates in France had to be selected  from a pre-approved list of traditional Christian/French origin. Hence, a lot of people named Marie, Jeanne, Pierre, Paul, Jacques, and not a lot of Mohammeds in those generations. Many French people have compound names, and the second one may be in honor of somebody of the other gender but will remain unchanged: We know a woman named Marie-José, and a man named Jean-Marie. After 1966, the law expanded the approved list to include some foreign names, alternate spellings, and non-Christian names. But in 1993, the French jumped on the Apple-Insepktor-Rumer bandwagon and changed the law so that you could pretty much name your child anything, or Enneething, if you prefer. They do still retain the juridic right to refuse patently ridiculous or offensive names (as we do in the US: no swear words, numbers, etc.). That, plus the seemingly world-wide retro trend, means that there are names that are either so new you've never heard of them or so old they're new again -- and especially to non-native speakers. Some of the names we've had to learn include: (girls) Gersende, Aubane, Cypriane, Héléa, Léonine, Blandine, Thaïs, Thamar, Elvire, Laëtitia, Mylène, Arlette, Giel, Faustine, Cléophée (boys) Gamaliel, Yannick, Hadrien, Augustin, and Tancrède.

Some lists for you:

According to magicmaman.com, the top 30 girls' names in France from 2003-2005, the years P & G were born: Zoe, Sarah, Romane, Pauline, Oceane, Noemie, Mathilde, Marine, Marie, Manon, Maeva, Lucie, Louise, Lola, Lena, Lea, Laura, Justine, Juliette, Julie, Jade, Inès, Eva, Emma, Clara, Chloé, Charlotte, Celia, Camille, Anaïs. My kids have girls with at least 10 of those names in their classes.

The top 30 boys's names in France from 2003-2005: Valentin, Tom, Thomas, Théo, Romain, Raphaël, Quentin, Pierre, Paul, Nicolas, Nathan, Maxime, Matteo, Mathis, Lucas, Louis, Leo, Julien, Jules, Hugo, Dylan, Clément, Benjamin, Baptiste, Axel, Arthur, Antoine, Alexis, Alexandre, Adrien, and my girls have about a dozen of those in their classes.  

And the most popular current baby names are: (boys) Lucas, Jules, Arthur, Timéo, Gabriel, Enzo, Adam, Théo, Sacha, Clément, Yanis, Hugo, Mathis, Alexandre, Thomas, Raphaël, Nicolas, (girls) Olivia, Louise, Jade, Camille, Emma, Chloé, Inès, Clara, Zoé, Léa, Manon, Lisa, Pauline, Anaïs, Lola, and Lucie.

Family News, Non-witty Posting

Well, since I've billed this as "letters home," I feel like it's fair to use this forum to let you know that Anthony's father, Frank, passed away last night. While it is sad news, it is also a blessing in many ways, because his father's health and, perhaps more importantly, his mind had been declining rapidly in recent weeks/months, and his quality of life had suffered accordingly. We (and Anthony's brothers too we believe) feel that Frank is probably much happier this way, if that makes any sense. He was tired, and done, and somewhat aware he was declining, and at least the end for him was relatively short. He suffered a massive stroke at home on Saturday and passed away within the week.

Anthony and his brothers will now have to sort out the legalities, and it's likely that the intricacies of dealing with all the paperwork and formalities will make our complaints about French bureaucracy look petty.

This morning, the girls and I wake up late, so Anthony tells us the news just as we are getting up and he is leaving the house. Gigi is our more sensitive child, and also more aware of what this means, since she was absolutely devastated when Anthony's mother passed away 4 years ago and still misses her to this day. While she is sniffling in her room, Pippa puts the pieces together and realizes that this means Anthony doesn't have his mother or father alive anymore. She says, "Well, at least that means he can eat whatever he wants without them telling him not to." There is a girl truly driven by the promise of something good to eat.

If you have Anthony's e-mail address, I'm sure he would appreciate a quick word. If not, I'll pass on any comments received here on the blog. 

The Perfect Setting for the Perfect Setting

Walking home very late at night from the 7th arrondissement with G, after going to a choral concert and then a friend's house. Looking up, we see the Eiffel Tower not just lit up but twinkling like 324 metres (that's 1063 ft to you and me) of diamonds -- a lighting trick created for the New Year's celebration at the turn of the millenium and continued since then, nightly.

I go to take a photo of the monument, and of G standing in front of the monument, and look at my pocket camera to figure out what setting to use. Why, of course! If ever there was a time in my life to use this setting,  officially the "Night Snapshot" mode, represented by the icon showing the person in front of the Eiffel Tower at night, it is right now:

This has G and me giggling all the way home. If only there were such a perfect setting for each and every occasion -- the baby-with-food-on-face icon, husband-dressed-up-by-daughters-in-tiara-and-tutu icon, Aunt-Lisa-belly-dancing-at-twighlight icon, etc..  Well, here's the tower again, a freebie photo from a Kodak kid, just to show you as much of the twinkle as a still picture can capture with a small point-and-shoot Canon PowerShot (I left the much bigger and better Canon SLR camera at the apartment).