© 2019, Gary Lee Kraut, All rights reserved.

The post You know you live in Paris when…: Canal Saint Martin appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

A National Institute for Preventive Archeological Research (INRAP) spokesman called it “the most significant archeological find in Paris in the past 14 years, both for its size and its singularity.”

The discovery was made by accident when the Société du Grand Paris unearthed a wheel while conducting preliminary soil analysis for a new suburban rail line that would follow the ancient canal routes out to the northeast suburbs as part of the long-term Paris Métropole project.

The canal site, according to INRAP, was the resting place for 182 bicycles, 55 chairs, 51 caddies and 23 motorcycles and scooters. Urban biologists are also excited by the opportunity to drain the canal to conduct the dig since in the process it was discovered that 17 species of fish thrived in the murky water, including a carp weighing over 35 pounds (16 kilos) and a catfish measuring nearly 4 feet (1.2 meters).

Historians are hoping that the new find will provide clues to understanding the presence of a series of bicycle-related monuments unearthed in 1990 two miles further along the canal route in what is now Parc de la Villette. After 25 years of study, those monuments, collectively known as The Buried Bicycle (La Bicyclette Ensevelie), have retained much of their mystery.

Theories vary as to the meaning of the Scandinavian-sounding inscription “Claes Oldenburg Coosje Van Bruggen” found on the artefacts. While some surmise a link with the Viking invasions of the 9th century, others believe the site to be the work of a cult dedicated to Saint Catherine of Alexandria who was to be executed on a spiked wheel that miraculously broke when she was placed on it. Joan of Arc claimed that Catherine told her to rid France of invaders.

The fact that the newly discovered bicycle cemetery is quite removed from The Buried Bicycle “raises more questions than it answers,” said INRAP’s chief cycle archeologist Dominique De Roue in an interview over coffee at the café and restaurant Hôtel du Nord. “But due to the scope of this extraordinary find some of those answers may now be within reach.”

Asked how the discovery of the bicycle cemetery compares with the well-arranged mass grave unearthed last winter under the Monoprix grocery store in the second arrondissement, De Roue said, “We were previously well aware that the Trinity Hospital had been on that site in the Middle Ages. So while the density of skeletons was unexpected, we were not surprised to find a burial site in the area. In this case, however, while we were aware of The Buried Bicycle and of anecdotal evidence of missing bicycles throughout the history of Paris, we had no conclusive evidence until now that Parisians had specifically designated a site for the burial of their two wheelers. We’re all very excited by the discovery.”

Unlike the medieval Trinity Hospital cemetery beneath the grocery store, which was visible only to specialists, the St Martin bicycle graveyard is an open excavation visible from the canal’s cobblestone sidewalk and metal bridges.

Adding to the macabre nature of the find, some of the bicycle cadavers have been so well preserved in the sediment that vultures, rarely seen in Pairs since the Franco-Prussian War, have appeared at the site.

Standing on the edge of the vast excavation site as a team of forensic archeologists worked below, Jean-Pierre Durcel, a professor at the Sorbonne and renowned expert on the 16th-century War of Locomotion, who is member of the dig’s scientific committee, said, “While it’s too early to speak definitively of any relation between this site and the War of Locomotion, there is a certain logic to it, given the location near Saint Louis Hospital, which was built soon after the end of the war period. The presence of a bicycle cemetery here would appear to confirm the hypothesis explored in my essay ‘Circular Lives: The Wheels of Monarchy, 1570-1610.’”

In that essay, Ducel seeks to explain why Henri III, unable to sooth tensions between velopedists and quadropedists, was assassinated in 1589, an event that brought an end to the Valois dynasty and temporarily halting dual-wheel development in France. His successor, Henri IV, was a 4-wheeler who eventually converted to bi-wheelism but was nevertheless assassinated in turn by a radical velopedist in 1610 while riding in a horse-drawn four-wheel “voiture” or vector.

Monique Guidon, a specialist on medieval executions, said over tea and cake at La Chambre aux Oiseaux, that the gravesite should rather be seen in relation with the presence nearby of the Gallows or Gibet of Montfaucon, once one of the most chilling sites in the countryside of Paris. The gallows were in use for some 350 years beginning in the late 12th century.

“They were just up the road from here,” she said. “It would have been reasonable to pass this way when wheeling criminals to the site of their execution. People have been calling this a ‘bicycle cemetery’ but it’s quite possible that the site contains a variety of wheeled vehicles and carts.”

A relationship between the cemetery and an as-yet-undated sign that was discovered in November during restoration of a piece of the city’s old ramparts is also being studied.

On a visit to the site before going to lunch at Les Enfants Perdus, Paris Mayor Anne Hidalgo, declared the site “further evidence that bicycles have long been a part of the life of the city.” Noting that some of the bicycles appear to have been “tortured,” the mayor said, “We must honor those that came before us and continue to fight for the rights of non-motorized Parisians.”

She was referring to the twisted cadavers of some of the bicycles. Several firearms have also been discovered in the upper strata of the excavation, though archeologists warn that it is too early to draw conclusions as to their relationship with the bicycles, tortured or not.

Opposition leader Nathalie Kosciusko-Morizet denounced Mayor Hidalgo’s “politicization of an archeological discovery.” “Parisians feel a lack of security,” she said before going to lunch at Philou, “and the mayor is only interested in re-interpreting history in such a way as to convince citizens that the fight against terrorism requires that bicycle lanes be extended.”

Radical leftist and extreme rightist parties both accused the government of timing the find to draw attention away from “the real problems confronting France” so as to promote a series of conference that will mark the Ile-de-France (Paris Region) Archeology Day on January 16. While some on the left said that the 9.5 million euros earmarked for the excavation would be better used to help house Syrian refugees fleeing the Israeli occupation, some on the right called for it to be used for better controls at the border between France and Turkey.

A forensic archeologist familiar with the dig, who requested anonymity due to the political nature of the discussion, acknowledged that some of the bicycles show signs of torture that may be related to political or cultural tensions of the time. He said that it was too early to know whether those tensions were local in nature or national or perhaps even international given that the site lies on a Roman trade route connecting Paris with what are now Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany.

Interpretation of the exact nature of the vast gravesite is further complicated by the presence in various strata of hundreds, perhaps thousands of recipients of what Georgio Manubrio, an Italian specialist on beverages from antiquity who is part of the INRAP team, said likely contained beer and wine.

Over coffee at Canaletto Caffè, Manubrio said, “Given the provenance of the amphorae and other recipients I’ve seen at the site Parisians at the time favored very poor quality beverages. I dare say that what they consumed at the time would be considered undrinkable today.”

“A bit like French coffee today,” he added.

Vélorution, an association militating against motorized vehicles (“Turn off your engines! Breath happiness!”) has begun daily demonstrations on the bridges overlooking the excavation site and as called for a massive demonstration on Sunday afternoon, when portions of Quai de Valmy and Quai de Jemmapes, the roads along the ancient canal, are closed to motorized traffic. To support their efforts, Vélorution will be holding a fundraising event at Le Comptoir Général following the demonstration.

A spokeswoman for district mayor of the 10th arrondissement said that an exploratory committee was being formed to study the possibility of obtaining UNESCO World Heritage Site listing for the bicycle cemetery, either in its own right or by requesting the extension of the listing of the banks of the Seine to the banks of the canal.

“The beauty and historical value of the site deserves protection,” she said.

The effort of district mayors to spearhead World Heritage recognition is not unprecedented as Delphine Bükli, district mayor of the 9th arrondissement, has recently sought UNESCO World Heritage status for the rooftops of Paris.

Asked if UNESCO listing of the bicycle cemetery might adversely affect future evolution of the area, the spokeswoman said, “We will not allow terrorists to affect the quality of life in the 10th arrondissement,” presumably referring not to UNESCO but to the November 2015 terrorist attacks which took place at Le Petit Cambodge and Le Carillon just 100 yards from bicycle cemetery excavation site.

District Mayor Rémi Féraud declared “The canal area will be ready for picnickers in the spring” before headed to have lunch at Haï Kaï.

Archeologist have been working at the dig for several days now and are currently in the process of removing the bicycle cadavers and remnants so that they can be studied under appropriate conditions using the latest scientific equipment. The company JCDecaux, a specialist in Jurrasic velopedes, has obtained the contract for doing DNA testing on the bicycles from that era.

It is as yet unclear as to where all of the bicycle cadavers would go after analysis, but Jean-Francois Decaux, co-CEO of the namesake group, said that by agreement with the City of Paris his company the remains of those showing no signs of torture from the era of its speciality will be placed on display at various locations in the city.

As to those showing signs of torture or from other periods in history, the City of Paris in collaboration with the Ministry of Culture would decide where they would be placed.

Reached by phone prior to her appearance on the Channel 2 8pm news, Fleur Pellerin, Minister of Culture and Communication, said, “Unfortunately my schedule as minister hasn’t allowed me to visit the excavation site. Nevertheless, I’m well aware that the bicycle cemetery is an important part not only of the history of Paris but of our national heritage and therefore I will do everything in my power to ensure that it is preserved digitally.”

The association Friends of the Carnavelet Museum is pleading in favor of bringing some of the remnants—tortured bicycles, beverage containers, possibly a firearm or two—to that museum, which is concerned with the history of Paris. However, the museum’s director, Valérie Guillaume, who also oversees the Catacombs, said over an early-evening pint at The Cork and Cavan that the Catacombs may be a more appropriate location to place the bicycle cadavers.

Archeologists were initially unable to identify an oddly shaped seat-like object at the gravesite.

But fresco specialists soon uncovered the words “Homme,” “Femme” and “Toile” on a supporting wall leading to the conclusion that the object is a toilet for cemetery workers, which apparently included women.

The owners of Le Polidor, Le Baron Rouge and other historical-minded eating and drinking establishments in Paris have offered to remove and restore the curious object at their own expense and to place on display in their own WC.

Said one business owner, who requested anonymity while negotiations are ongoing, “Though the modern technology of the hole in the ground is most practical and hygienic, we like the idea of adding a historical and retro element from a time, unimaginable as it may seem to us today, when woman actually dared to sit down to pee in a public water closet. Since I’m not a historian myself I don’t yet know how to properly clean it, but I’ve reached out to toilet specialists at the University of Nantes and will be working with them to develop instructions to ensure both proper use and proper maintenance. Some of our regular clients may resist using it, so we’ll continue to provide the modern alternative of the hole in the ground. Our international visitors will certainly get a kick out of it.”

While the excavation has been drawing numerous curiosity seekers and Instagrammers, some visitors to the neighborhood are clearly moved by the sight.

Sitting at a café table outside Chez Prune, 24-year-old Emilie Cuissard said, “To think that bicycles have died and even been tortured so close to the three bicycle shops in the neighborhood…”

Her eyes tearing as she rolled a cigarette, she said “It makes me proud to be a Parisian.”

* * *

Further information about the bicycle cemetery and the archeological dig see here.

Photos and text © 2016, Gary Lee Kraut

The post Macabre Bicycle Cemetery Discovered in Paris appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

Immediately after the attack of January 7, 2015 Paris was “Charlie” in solidarity with the individuals and values under fire at Charlie Hebdo, though some refused the refrain. After the further attack of January 9 at Hyper Casher and the manhunt for the perpetrators of the terror, some would also add a oneness with Jews and police to their slogan, but “Je suis Charlie” became the three overarching words.

“Fluctuat nec mergitur,” the motto of Paris for centuries, meaning that (it is) tossed about (by the waves but) not sunk/submerged, immediately began appearing as a slogan in the wake of the killing spree of Nov. 13.

The words first appeared at the attack sites-cum-memorials on the morning of November 14. Here is one of its initial expressions as it was written on a flag placed on the ground in front of the bar Le Carillon, one of the first sites be hit in Paris during the wave of attacks. Along with fluctuat nec mergitur, the individual had also written Paris: ville lumière (city of light).

Two and half days later, hundreds of candles, flowers and other slogans have be placed on the sidewalk along with the flag, which can barely be seen peeking out from beside the wall.

By then the motto/slogan was appearing here and there throughout the city, though certainly not as extensively, affirmatively and meaningfully as “Je suis Charlie.” Three Latin words can only go so far in a slogan- and logo-hungry world. Nevertheless, they began to crop up, white letters against a black background, and nowhere more visible than on Place de la République.

A team went to work to paint those words on the side of a building by Canal Saint Martin in the 10th arrondissement.

The coat of arms or heraldry of the City of Paris has evolved over time, but more than the motto itself, one element that has remained constant is the use of a ship to represent the administration of Paris.

As the Gallo-Roman city of Lutetia, home to the Celtic tribe of the Parisii, developed along the Seine River 2000 years ago, the boatmen naturally gained in stature. These boatmen or nautes were organized under the title Nautae Parisiaci (not to be confused with naughty Parisians). The Nautae Parisiaci donated a stone pillar or monument to the temple of Jupiter, on the site where a Christian basilica would later be built and eventually by Notre-Dame Cathedral. In the Cluny Museum of the Middle Ages, built partly on the site of Roman baths on the Left Bank, visitors can see that pillar, which was excavated from beneath Notre-Dame. The pillar of the nautes honors Roman and Celtic gods.

In the Middle Ages, the powerful corporation that operated commerce along the Seine in Paris was called that of “the water merchants.” Paris was a royal city by then, though the king was frequently elsewhere. Under Louis VII in the 1170s, the important role of these water merchants was affirmed with privileges, further reinforced under the long reign of his son Philippe Auguste. The title “provost of the merchants” was given to the head of the corporation, placing him in the position of leader of the municipal administration of Paris. The National Archives in Paris have a mold of the seal of the water merchants of 1210.

The main offices of the water merchants were naturally near the docks. One of the main docks was on the Right Bank, just across from Ile de la Cité, the island at the center of the city. Place de Grève was the name of that docking area. The grève refers to the sandbanks that were once there. Men would assemble by these docks when looking for work (and when dissatisfied at not having work). Standing or being on the grève came to mean one was looking for work, but that meaning changed over time and in the 19th century being on the grève came to refer, as it still does, to the voluntary stopping of work as a sign of protest or complaint, i.e. to strike.

In 1357 the water merchants purchased a building for municipal use. City Hall stands on that site today, which is only natural since the water merchants assumed the many of the roles of what we think of as the mayor’s office would. The chief city administrator continued to be referred to as “the provost of the merchants” until July 14, 1789, the day of the storming of the Bastille, when the provost was assassinated by gunshot by someone in the angry mob that saw him as a traitor to the cause of their grief against the king. His head was then paraded through the streets on a spike. Since then the leading administrator of city has been called “the mayor.”

The square beside City Hall (Hôtel de Ville) was renamed Place de l’Hôtel de Ville in 1803. Since 2013, on the 69th anniversary of the Liberation of Paris from German occupation, it has officially been called Place de l’Hôtel de Ville – Esplanade de la Libération.

The current City Hall was completed in 1882, partially echoing the style of the 16th-century building that was set aflame in 1871 in the final days of the Commune of Paris.

Tour boats are now the most common vessels seen plying the Seine River as it passes through Paris, yet the sailing merchant ship remains the central element of the symbol of the City of Paris. In particular, it is a silver ship with a silver sail that navigates against a red (gules) background.

Above the ship are golden fleurs de lys (stylized lilies, symbols of French royalty) against an azure blue background, a reminder that this was once a royal city. Paris was also surrounded by ramparts, hence the crenelated crown at the top.

Oak leaves decorate the left side (as the viewer sees it). Laurel leaves decorate the right. Both symbolize heroism.

“Hanging” from the crossed branches at the bottom, the Legion of Honor was added to the motto by decree of October 9, 1900.

To its right was added the Croix de Guerre (à l’ordre de l’Armée) on July 28, 1919. As is written in the decree signed by President Georges Clemenceau (and inscribed on the stone barrier in front of City Hall): “The City of Paris, capital magnificently worthy of France, propelled by a patriotic faith that never waned, withstood with valor equally firm and smiling numerous bombardments by planes and by long-range artillery… from 1914 to 1918 add[ing] imperishable titles to its secular glory.”

Even before the Second World War had ended, the Croix de la Liberation was added to the left of the Legion of Honor on March 24, 1945. As is written in the decree signed by Charles de Gaulle on behalf of the provisional government (and also inscribed on the stone barrier in front of City Hall): “Capital faithful to itself and to France manifested… its unshakable resolution to combat and to vanquish. By its courage in the presence of invaders and by the unconquerable energy with which she [it] withstood the most cruel triels, deerves to remain the example for the entire nation… The city… liberated by its own efforts then united with the advance guard of the French army come to its rescue on 25 August…”

The astute visitor will spot the coat of arms of Paris in whole or in part throughout the capital city.

For example, you’ll notice a ship decorating the streetlamps on Place de la Concorde.

You’ll see a mosaic representation of the city’s coat of arms by the center of the metro track on line 1 at the Hôtel de Ville station:

You’ll see symbols of the city on the elevated structures of the metro along Boulevard de la Chapelle and at La Motte Picquet-Grenelle:

Keep your eyes open and you’ll see elements of the coat of arms of the capital at countless other places around the city: train stations, bridges, schools, municipal buildings, etc.

As I write this, however, in the wake of the terrorist attacks of November 13, it’s the motto Fluctuat nec mergitur that stands out as a sign of Paris as it tries to stay the course of liberté, egalité, a seat with friends on the terrace of a café.

© 2015, Gary Lee Kraut

The post Fluctuat Nec Mergitur and the Coat of Arms of the City of Paris appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

Yes, pigeons and sparrows aren’t the only birds that enjoy life and food in the City of Lights. Gulls do too. Though not permanent residents, gulls can be seen congregating on Paris holiday between early summer and late winter on their way to/from northern or central Europe on the one hand and the Atlantic or channel coast on the other.

Paris has, as yet, been spared the kind of gull attacks against cats and small dogs that have recently been reported in Nice (from bigger seagulls). Between Paris’s tasty insects, not-too-toxic fish and the delicious trash, who needs a meal of yorkie (one was reportedly lifted from the beach in Nice and devoured at sea)?

In Paris we can take in the sight of these frolicking feathered friends without fear, for now, whether in July, as in this video that I shot in the Marais:

or in December, as in this video that I shot from a bridge over the Canal Saint Martin.

© Gary Lee Kraut

The post Seagulls Enjoy Their Paris Pieds-à-terre appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

* * *

There’s something about being a native English speaker that makes us want to connect with people sitting next to us in a foreign restaurant.

– Is that as good as it looks?
– Did I hear you say Boston?
– I just want to say that I love your bag!

That can be tricky business in places where we might not understand the code for “I know we’re nearly rubbing thighs but could you kindly just mind your own business?”

Not to worry, there are few codes, nor much in the way of a menu, at Matière à…, a delightful new restaurant in the canal quarter of Paris’s 10th arrondissement, where owner-chef Anthony Courteille plays host from behind the counter in his open kitchen to 14 guests at a single table (+ a 2-head in the corner).

I first met Mr. Courteille in 2011 when he was the executive chef at the Atelier Guy Martin, the cooking school of Guy Martin, chef at the venerable Le Grand Véfour and the force behind other culinary enterprises. He appeared in a France Revisited video when I took one of his classes. So there was no pretending that I could test this, his first restaurant adventure, anonymously. Instead I invited 13 friends and readers to join me.

Among the guests at the table that evening was Virginia-born, longtime Paris resident Allison Zinder, who teaches the culinary arts in schools, as well as privately. She held what I think of as the critic’s or student’s seat, the one closest to the kitchen, overlooking the chef’s shoulder. I asked her afterwards to send her opinion on the restaurant in less than 50 words: “Despite that open (tiny!) kitchen,” she wrote, “I found the atmosphere to be calm and luxurious and the food sublime: surprising yet harmonious flavors, home-made bread (so rare in Paris), and smooth, lovely wines chosen just for the meal. Bravo au chef!”

The trade-off for this bravo is a lack of choice on the menu. Those troubled by the thought of being limited to a fish dish and a poultry or meat dish for the main course or to the cheese plate or single dessert to end the meal would be better off seeking out longer menus. Also, if there are certain types of fish, poultry or meat that you refuse to eat then this might not be the place for you. Our group took the 4-course tasting menu, thereby eliminating the choice between main courses from the start since we got both.

The chef may be willing to accommodate with certain ingredients, as he did by transforming the announced crabmeat appetizer on our menu into a fresh salad for one in our party, but it’s best to come open to the possibilities. Of course, you can always come by to have a look at the menu to decide whether or not to enter on a given day (it changes daily), but with 16 seats (17 in a pinch), Matière à… may fill up with reservations before you pass by to case out the day’s menu.

Mr. Courteille’s cuisine is nevertheless quite recognizable, its ingredients spelled out on the menu, and there are no great risks to the willing appetite. Nothing is intended to shock or challenge your sense of what constitutes food. Our evening menu included a crabmeat (chair de torteau) appetizer, a spotted dogfish (roussette) fish course, a beef flank (hampe de boeuf) meat course, followed by cheese or strawberries, lemon cream and meringue for dessert. In our menu and in daily menus surveilled throughout the week, I found no search for novelty or an attempt to cook on the cusp of the latest food trends. Mr. Courteille’s dishes are graceful, polished and—take this as you will—French. It was as though we’d all been invited to a delicious meal in an elegant yet unpretentious home for dinner and each discreetly left 60€ (42€ for the tasting menu + wine) as a thank you.

I surveyed the group afterwards. One in our group lamented a less than exciting selection of cheese and another found the beef flank too flimsy but even they gave overall applause to the meal, the room and the atmosphere, as did we all. Our 14-guest restaurant review team therefore gives thumbs up all around.

In Paris it’s the rare new restaurant of late whose name isn’t readily understandable an international clientele, meaning by English speakers (e.g. a burger-heavy café at the next corner called American Kitchen). So hats off to Chef Anthony for calling his restaurant / chef’s table the untranslatable Matière à….

The ellipsis itself is used far more in French than in English to signal a continuation of thought in ways that the reader understands or that invite him to open his mind to the possibilities. With three little dots a timid “maybe we could get together tomorrow evening…” becomes an invitation for hanky-panky – unless of course you misunderstood…

Matière à generally means “grounds or matter or fodder for” and so is the lead-in to expressions such as matière à discuter = something to be discussed (matter for discussion), matière à rire = laughing matter; matière à réflexion = food for thought. For the purposes of this restaurant, the most appropriate translation may well be “Makes you want to…”

At a time when many new urban restaurants serve food for thought, for trend or for gullible hipsters or tourists rather than for enjoyment, it’s a rare pleasure to discover a restaurant that plays to a simple, un-convoluted sense of freshness, culinary skill and conviviality, leaving it to us and our tablemates—friends, perhaps strangers—to find common ground for discussion and for laughter.

Makes you want to… reserve.

* * *

Matière à…, Anthony Courteille’s chef’s table, 15 rue Marie et Louise, 10th arr. Tel. 09 83 07 37 85. Metro République or Jacques Bonsergent or Goncourt. Open weekdays 12-2:30pm and 7pm-1am. Saturday and Sunday 7pm-1am.

About 23 euros for three courses at lunch. A tasting menu of about 42-euro, served only in the evening, is comprised of 4 dishes: appetizer, fish/seafood, meat/fowl, cheese or dessert. A 3-course meal à la carte can be had at the same price, slightly larger portions, with a choice between the two main dishes. One can also select one or two courses. The wines selection, generally 25-40 euros, or by the glass, is easy-going and effective.

© 2014, Gary Lee Kraut

Readers who would like to participate in upcoming Paris Revisited / France Revisited tastings, testings and other events can send a message to gary [at] francerevisited.com to get on the priority mailing list.

The post Paris Restaurant Review: Matière à…, A Harmonious Chef’s Table in the Canal Quarter appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

This year celebrates the 30th anniversary of sanisettes, the fully enclosed individual street toilettes. Until 2006 they were entered for a fee but are since free. This is a photo of the latest generation, whose installation began in 2009.

A list of where the 400 sanisettes of Paris are found along with other toilet-related information is found here, in case you find yourself walking around with a hand-held. There’s probably also a Where to Piss in Paris app out there somewhere.

Boys, however, will still be boys, so we can all applaud the comeback of the pissoir this summer, more shameless than ever.

Here’s one on the cobblestone banks for Canal Saint Martin in the 10th arrondissement.

They are clearly not designed for girls, who are better at ducking into a crowded café with a quick smile and an eye for the WC.

The post Street Talk: Boys Will Be Boys, the Pissoirs of Paris appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

You peruse the right magazines, or so they tell you.

You read the best travel sections, as though any of them knew what was going on in Paris.

You read the most up-to-date blogs, or so they want you to believe.

And still you don’t know that Le Comptoir Général, a bar and events space across the street from Canal Saint Martin, is among the hippest spaces in Paris this spring.

Not hip as in style or attitude, not age-related or attitude-bound or drug-induced. Commercial or non-commercial, doesn’t matter. This is the hip that money won’t buy and fashion won’t help you achieve. You’ve either got or you don’t.

By July it might still be a fine place to hang out for the evening but it’ll be old news, the kind you read about in those magazines and travel sections and blogs.

And please don’t expect me to actually describe the place to you or show pictures of what hip look like this spring or tell you what nights are best or take you by the hand to lead you down the dark alley that gets you there. Either you get or you don’t.

Either you’re in or you’re out.

Up to you.

Le Comptoir Général, 80 quai de Jemmapes, 10 arrondissement. Metro République or Jacques Bonsergent. http://www.lecomptoirgeneral.com/.

© 2011, Gary Lee Kraut

The post Le Comptoir Général, Either You Get It or You Don’t appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

* * *

It’s been unusually cold in Paris, mostly a dry cold though. It’s the damp cold that normally marks the Paris winter so, warmly dressed, it’s nearly a pleasure to be in the cold outside. It’s inside that things get dicey. I returned to Paris a few days ago after six weeks in the U.S. and have since spent a good amount of time winterizing the apartment: hanging curtains, plugging spaces on the edges of doors and windows, buying an electric heater.

The elderly woman downstairs used to heat a lot in winter, I could tell by the warmth of my parquet, but she now goes south for much of the winter. And a guy in his 20s recently moved next door and doesn’t need to turn on his own heat very often since most nights he warms his apartment by having a dozen friends over for a rave party. I’m left to heating my own space. So much for community.

The best place to find community these days is in the cafes and bars of the residential neighborhoods. They’ve been quite crowded, I’ve noticed, these past few days and evenings, smokers swarming by the doorways. Crisis, what crisis?

I love cafes in winter, the way people come in rubbing the cold off their hands. There’s more of a community feel to a café in winter than in summer. In summer everyone wants a piece personal joy, their own proverbial spot in the sun. You tolerate your neighbors at surrounding tables in summer, but other than the usual sexual attraction you’d rather have nothing to do with them. In winter, though, there’s more of a feel that we’re all in this together. On especially cold winter days, as in rain storms in other seasons, the café becomes a kind of genteel bomb shelter. It’ll pass, we think, or we’ll soon go out and confront the elements, but in the meantime un autre, s’il vous plaît.

I just got home from having coffee with a friend and I take back what I said a paragraph ago.

There isn’t much of a sense of community in the café after all. I now think that the difference between the winter café and the summer café is that in winter Parisians have even less of a sense of personal space than they do in summer. Their sweaters, scarves, and coats not only put a damper on the aforementioned sexual attraction but also make people unaware of where their space ends and others’ begin. Add to that the shopping bags now that the annual winter sales period is underway and oh the looks you get when you ask a woman to take her ankle-length duvet coat and H&M bags from an otherwise available chair so that you can sit down! Sometimes the bomb shelter feels less genteel, but once you and your friend have got your space it’s café society as holders of McStarbucks Cards can only dream about, even at McStarbucks in Paris.

Yesterday, after insulating window cracks in the morning, I went out to take photos in my neighborhood along the canal. There were at least a dozen people taking pictures within the same 300-yard stretch of the canal during the same 30-minute grey-day photo shoot, including a couple of guys with long lenses, one with a tripod. The thought that most of those photographers were going to put their pictures on blogs accompanied or not by text about the cold in Paris and the ice on the canal was rather disheartening. It’s one thing to compete for elbow room in a café, it’s quite another to think that we’re all competing for attention on the internet.

Truth be told, the canal is not a highly photogenic place. Oh, it’s a nice place to live, to hang out, to stroll, to café-sit, and, when the weather’s right, to picnic, but its color combination of dark green, grey, beige, brown, and black, with little sky in the frame and an uninspiring mishmash of architecture alongside, make the canal an awkward place to photograph. We all pointed our cameras towards the ice in the hopes that that would be evocative enough.

I stood on a bridge by a guy with a long lens to take the shot above of gull prints in the dusting of snow on the ice. The guy tried not show that he was annoyed by my “copying” him, but when I then followed him over to shoot a view from the side he gave me the same look as the women whose space I invaded in the café today. Why should his blog have better photos than mine just because he’s got a bigger lens?

The canal may not be very photogenic but the Eiffel Tower always is. That explains why one occasionally comes across some stunning photographs of the Eiffel Tower. Problem is, it’s hard to make the Eiffel Tower look like anything but the Eiffel Tower, by which I mean that it rarely evokes any other thought than: That’s the Eiffel Tower, I’ve been there (or I want to be there).

That’s why I love the joy that comes across in Va-nu-pieds’ Eiffel Tower photo. In it he managed to capture the sense of ecstasy at coming upon a distant view of the Iron Lady. I’m honored that he gave me first dibs to use it on France Revisited’s Photography Blog.

A close look at the shot shows that he must have taken the picture in summer because you can see the sandal tan lines on his foot (unless those are shadows from the beams), but the Eiffel Tower is timeless enough that, unlike in my apartment, a difference of 50 degrees Fahrenheit doesn’t matter.

– Text and photos Gary Lee Kraut, 2010.

The post Winter in Paris: Does size matter on the ice canal? appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

* * *

I usually count on the neighbors to help with the heating just as they count on me. But the apartment is colder this winter because the apartment below is empty.

I’ve just caulked the windows in my living room/office so that I don’t have to type with gloves on.

With gloves that sentence reads as follows:

IO ujuts cqgulKEFD TQEHW qioasdddnows ioh ny sdl;aingvv toomoffaciw asto thath ia asdotnta; ahvae to aryttg wqthh fpobes pon,.

Actually, I sort of like the like the “fpobes pon” at the end, got nice rhythm to it.

Meanwhile, the ice thickens on Canal Saint-Martin,

and city works don their gloves to put up a sign warning us from trying to walk on it.

(c) 2009, Gary Lee Kraut

The post Writing without gloves appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

The trees don’t seem to have been thrown but rather abandoned. Their like pets that have been purchased on a whim of affection and good cheer that disappears as soon as the animal starts shedding. Except that many of these trees haven’t even started shredding

No matter to those Parisian tree dumpers gone on vacation. I imagine them in Languedoc applauding themselves for enjoying farm-to-table foie gras or in Morocco patting themselves on the back for their interest in foreign cultures while their nursery-to-apartment pines lie in the street or on the canal or in a body bag on a street in the Marais on December 26.

The post Christmas in Paris is but a memory appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.