Cold Clear Christmas

It's not our holiday, but for the first time in years we weren't spending Christmas with our dear friends in Berkeley.  The old standby of a movie seemed the thing to do, but it was too beautiful a day to spend in a darkened theater.  We needed a walk along the river in the bright light and crisp air.

The sun played a bit of peek-a-boo, throwing shadows one minute and erasing them the next.  We even had a few moments of rain until the clouds passed and the sun returned.  We kept on walking and reveling in how clean and simple everything looked.  There were few cars, fathers were carrying their small children on their shoulders, church bells were ringing.

The quais were full of tourists near Notre Dame but empty just a block away.  Languages bounced around our ears as we moved through the crowd: Spanish, Polish, Dutch, Italian, French, Russian, all within 100 feet.  Parisians were spending the holiday with family; we visitors were the ones out walking.  The line to get into Notre Dame moved quickly, but we had no desire to go indoors yet.

Passing behind Notre Dame we moved onto the Ile St-Louis, where the always-open cafés on the corner were closed up tight.  A man and his dog were investigating the two swans and several ducks at the foot of the ramp to the water.  The birds seemed more interested in them than the reverse.

Berthillon, the famous ice cream purveyor, had decorated their building from top to bottom, but weren't open for business.

Not everyone was taking the holiday off however.  This bouquiniste thought it was worth opening his bins to what passing trade there might be,

while below him along the water two joggers in bright pink kept to what was probably a daily routine.

We did finally get to the movie, by the way.  The Meryl Streep vehicle "It's Complicated" is called "Pas Si Simple" here.  

From Right to Left

It's hard to resist a lovely afternoon.  Gene was feeling better, the sun was bright, the sky still blue and we decided to walk from our place to the Left Bank and maybe see a movie later on.  This vintage Citroën Deux Chevaux parked in front of a Thai restaurant on rue de l'Ave Maria begged to have its picture taken.   A bit farther along we came across the back of the church of St. Paul shining in the sun.

Nearby, someone had left an entire bag of baguettes lying on the ground near a municipal trash bag (no cans here for fear of bombs).  A small mystery: why weren't they in the trash bag? What could have happened to cause someone to discard them?  And would anyone have the nerve to eat them? They were left across the street from a low-income assistance office.  We didn't wait to learn the answers.

When we reached the river we took a closer look at an art installation that had been up on the quays since late September.  Enormous eyes had been posted along the quayside walls and on some of the bridges.  They're beginning to peel off and I think it makes it look even more intriguing.

 

Photographed and installed by a French photographer known as JR, it's part of a project called Women are Heroes (www.womenareheroes-paris.net) focusing on abused women around the world.  The eyes are those of some of those women.

Across from the eyes was this little vignette.  It looked like a photo shoot for a poster or an album cover.  That's got to be a band, right? Is there any other excuse?

The riverside was popular that afternoon.  There were sitters and strollers on the walkways down by the water.

 

And the old buildings along the Quai de Bourbon on Ile St-Louis were as beautiful as ever.

It's pricy real estate over there, but there must be some residents who are hanging on in unrenovated garrets or this would have long ago disappeared.

Yes, there's still an operating public bathhouse on the island.

And on that other island, a view of one of Notre Dame's towers from the Square Jean XXIII, a refuge from the crowds at the front of the Cathedral, where you too might be lucky enough to hear a sole musician playing the recorder in the sunlight.

We did see that movie, eventually.  It was The Informant!  We liked it.

Day by Day

I may be the only one blogging from Paris who hasn't mentioned last Saturday's Nuit Blanche, the annual  open-all-night art spectacle begun by mayor Delanoë in 2002.  That's because we only participated peripherally, passing some installations in the Marais on our way home from dinner at Frenchie, a great new restaurant in the Sentier district, near rue Montorgueil, our old stamping grounds.  There were lots of people on the streets, wandering from one installation to another.  I read later that one and a half million people had taken part this year.

We saw only a couple of pieces we thought interesting, including this video and light piece called Electra in the garden of the Bibliothèque Historique.

There were things I would have liked to have seen, like the world's largest disco ball hanging over the bassin at the Jardin du Luxembourg, but they were all at some distance from our itinerary that night and we just didn't feel like braving the crowds for the most obviously popular ones.  So if you want to know more about this year's Nuit Blanche (which means sleepless night, by the way), you'll have to use my old friend Google.

What I can tell you about is the great meal we had at Frenchie.  A tiny place, it holds only about 8 tables and offers a prix fixe menu of 26 euros for two courses and 31 euros for three.  There are only two choices each for the entrée and plat and three for the dessert, but they were all delicious.  We had very lightly smoked trout with an onion confit on puréed something (I've forgotten, not having made any notes.  Bad blogger!), followed by a roast pintade (guinea fowl) which may have been the best poultry I've ever had.  Others in the group had Nile perche with dill, also perfect.  I had made reservations several weeks in advance and people were turned away at the door if they didn't have them, so if you're tempted, do call ahead.

On Sunday evening we went over to the Pont des Arts, the pedestrian bridge over the Seine which connects the Louvre with the wonderful domed Institut de France on the left Bank.

Sitting on one of the benches watching people walking by was a particularly pleasant way to wait for the sun to set.

The young man above made a discreet fashion statement  in the sea of muted colors, most of which matched perfectly the skies and water.