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9.28.8

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Playgrounds of Paris - Part VI

Jardin des Plantes

Next to the Zoo
5th Arr.

This is a cute little playground just outside the Zoo at the Jardin des Plantes. It's backed by a cafe, which is convenient. There are several elementary schools in the area, and so the playground empties and fills in shifts. It's worth noting that throughout our playground tour, the older kids were almost always extremely kind and careful around the young chai walla. When he wobbled into their field of play, some little girl would invariably make a point of saying, "Watch out for the petite." and throw a guiding arm around his shoulder and lead him to some safe spot a few feet away. Boys did this too, though not as often.

The Jardin des Plantes area could easily consume an entire day. There's a modern natural history museum, a botanical garden, a zoo, another park, and a block away, the Paris Mosque.

Playgrounds of Paris - Part V

Jardin des Abesseses

18th Arr.

Down the road from the finiculare. A narrow, rectangular garden with ivied walls on two sides. Very quaint. Private, too.

Benches along the two paths. Most kids more interested in running through the plants than working the wooden train engine setup in the small, soft-top play area.

Just outside the gate is a small carousel with day-glo painted Harley trikes, helicopters and hippie vans.

La Piscine Suzanne Berlioux

Our visit last time to La Piscine Josephine Baker went so, ehh, swimmingly, I thought we'd try it again. This time we chose La Piscine Suzanne Berlioux, named after a former coach of the French women's Olympic swimming team.


La Piscine Suzanne Berlioux is located in Les Halles, in the underground shopping center near the cineplex. The pool is an olympic size 8 laner with 5 lanes dedicated to serious lap swimming and 3 lanes given to recreational use; the pool complex is massive, with super high, scallop-arched cielings and a rather curious crescent shaped patio/lounge area trying to serve as a tropical jungle simulacrum.

Having already run afoul of the Speedo police, I was sure to check ahead to find out whether the Birdwells I'd brought along would be suitable. I was informed that indeed they would not be suitable, which meant a stop off at Decathalon sporting goods for a cheap pair of Daniel Craigs. Ego, gut and adequate sense of shame prevent me from showing a pic of myself in my new boxer Speedos. The term "muffin top" pretty much nails it, though.

Sadly, the water was a bit chilly for Nik's taste. He preferred to hang out by the ladder and play around with styrofoam kickboards.

Playgrounds of Paris - Part IV

Montmartre

Base of Finiculare
18th Arr.

Beautiful double-decker merry-go-round. Small, non-enclosed playground off the base of the basilica tram. A play house and two ladders. Mix of local locals, neighborhood locals, and tourists comme nous.

Very pigeon-y.

Civil Servants to Avoid

Listen, if you ever travel to France, stay away from this guy.

Nik and I were out at La Villette the other day and we came upon the Argonaut exhibit, a french Cold War era submarine. We wanted to check it out, but our friend here seemed uniquely invested in wrenching our plans. Couldn't quite figure out what the problem was at first, but boy did he wax large with the bullshit non-accomodational pretexts.

First, it is too tight inside. Also, the baby is not tall enough (huh?). And what's more, you need a special ticket for entry. This last piece was true enough, but there was a self-operated billet machine standing directly in front of us. Same machine I'd used an hour earlier to buy Nik's entry to La Cite Des Enfants indoor playground. So I said I'd purchase our ticket right here, no problem.

"Ah, but your card is no good at this particular machine. It has not the special 'Bancard Francaise' chip in it."

That was creative, I must admit. Perhaps he didn't feel like keeping an eye on our poucette, le Maclaren Spitfire. Or perhaps the real reason he didn't let us in is, well, because he's a dick. A monumental dick, at that- a French civil servant dick. In fact, he probably grew up in Dickbourg sur Seine, and attended L'ecole Pour Tout Petites Dicks. Maybe even received a scholarship to L'Universite du Dicks Redoutables.

And then he scored this gig. Which puts him in front of thousands of curiosity seekers every week; so many opportunities to say, "NON!"

Dick.

Yeah, we went back to the main office and bought our tickets there.

And we saw the Argonaut, too. It's a submarine. It was ok.

But the guy at the door's a friggin' dick.

Playgrounds of Paris - Part III

Cite des Enfants

Parc de La Villette
19th Arr.

"Nothing hurts like having to sit still!"

That is what the dear boy screams. He screams it through tears on a morning of driving rain. Thankfully, on such a morning in Paris, France, there are several decent alternatives. One of them is La Villette, a post-modern educational/cultural complex with a killer science museum & library, a concert hall, and acres upon acres of outdoor space. I'd been here many years ago to check out a movie en plein aire. I had no idea how vast it is.

Where to begin? Well, the main building dedicated to Science & Industry is about 2/3rds the size of the Javits center. Its six stories offer a massive library, a few cinemas, several permanent natural world-related exhibits, several temporary exhibits (like an anti-gravity chamber), and two indoor playgrounds- Cite Des Enfants I for 2-5 year olds; and Cite Des Enfants II for 5 and up.

The playgrounds work on a reservation system. 15 slots at 90 minute intervals. 6 euros. We arrived at 11:30am on a very slow Tuesday and purchased next available time - 2:30pm. We burned an hour inside the library- kids' section on the first floor towards the back. We burned another hour making our way across the Brazil-like cityscape, past the reflective Geode and over to the exhibit featuring the Argonaut, a French cold war era submarine.

Sadly, our Cite des Enfants playground reservation coincided with the young chai walla's nap time. Happily, the sun came out just as he fell asleep, and pops got a chance to stroll the grounds, making his way in the direction of a thunderous bass & drum to-do booming out from some location on the other side of the Ourcq canal. I needed to know why that sound in the middle of the day. Our approach took some time, and required a bridge crossing and two elevator rides. But finally the mystery was solved as we came upon the gigantic Zenith theatre where, wtf?, an MTV concert taping was taking place. Look closely and you'll see two groupies trying to get a glimpse of the action inside.

Whatevs.

We turned in the opposite direction, strolled down a narrow lane or two and came upon a bamboo forest.

La Villette is amazing!

Bamboo. Big fan.

My theory: all one ever needs in order to survive is water, duct tape, and bamboo. I love to see bamboo in a non-tropical environment, like in France or outside of Quakertown, Pa. Bamboo is a pure good. And to know that it thrives pretty much everywhere minus the poles is to be satisfied that the uber design is a righteous design. That is, if there is an uber design.

Anyway, Nick woke up in time to enjoy a stroller tour of Cite La Musique where, beginning next week, a Miles Davis retrospective will be taking place. The French do dig their jazz. Then it was off to the 18th for some merry-go-rounding.

How Do You Say Forbidden?

The word here is 'interdit'. It's pronounced an-tair-dee.

Stack that up against the harder, harsher sounding 'verbotten', (Ger) 'prohibido', (Sp) 'apachorevete' (Gr), 'interdetto' (It), and 'forbidden', and I think you have an interesting lesson in inter-linguistic onamatapoeia. Rather than having a prohibitive ring, interdit sounds sleek. Imminently sayable. Stylish even. Heck, it's a word you might enjoy uttering at least a couple times a day.

Playgrounds of Paris - Part II

Jardin du Luxembourg

5th Arr.

In talking about Les Halles I described the open-air playground as boisterous. Any sane person might ask, what playground isn't? Well, here's one. Perhaps not a playground, but a play area for les jeune filles, to be sure: it's the sandboxes in Les Jardins Luxembourg (pic below). Serene, elegant, manicured and stately, it's like no sandbox I've ever been to.

You could nap in there. Read a book. Or write one. Or study for the MCAT's it's so damn peaceful. You could also tire of it quickly, as we did.

So we split the sandbox , bought a ball and played around on the grass by a statue. After twenty minutes, the fuzz came by and chased us off the grass.

We took this as our cue to head on to the day's main attraction- the Parc de Jeux in the south western quadrant of the jardin. The Parc de Jeux is a PAYground. 2.5 euros/kid, 1.5/adult and worth every centime. Four types of jungle gym, a very tall rope trellis climbing apparatus, a dozen see-saws (including tandems), spring coil bobblies, giant spinning sombreros and individual spinning seats. And for kids sept ans and older, a track mounted rope swing.

On Nick's first go at the see-saw some little french girl came running up and sat on the other end. Good sign.

Just outside the playground is the marionette theatre (we didn't go) and the caroussel pour les petits enfants (we did).

The horses on this merry-go-round in miniature are stationary and come with thin belts for the strapping in of toddlers.

Nik was too small to ride a horse, so he worked the gondola with some strangers.

Aside from his poucette, I think this was his first ride in a moving vehicle sans adult. He took to it right away.

Looks Like Dog Food, Tastes Like Heaven

Nothing beats Rilletes de Canard. Except maybe full on Pate de Canard, but that's a bit pricey for toddler food. 

Monoprix carries Torres brand, our favorite. It's flavored with red pepper and pimento. 

Bon to the App, bebe!

Bride of Franc Enstein

Colette was closed yesterday so that the window dressers could change the display. 

Nick dug the goofy eyes they fastened to the foam backing.  

The clothes are Rodarte.

Nice kicks!

Playgrounds of Paris - Part I

Les Halles

1st Arr.

Les Halles often gets a bad rap from Parisians. This is because it is essentially an above and below ground shopping mall, and because much of it is butt ugly, especially the underground part. It's also because certain corners do seem to welcome lurkers and up-to-no-goodnicks- this I recall from an extended stay here several years ago.  

Les Halles had once been a wholesale vendors market. Food and flowers mostly. From the sound of it, it was a pretty cool place. The market opened at 5am, and to serve the drivers and the market workers, so did the restaurants. It was a social nexus where everyone in the food trade -- chefs, merchants, restaurant owners, etc --  gathered to discuss le menu. No accident that many of the city's best restaurants sprouted up nearby over the years. But in the early '70's the 19th century pavillions that housed the wholesale market were demolished.

A decade later, the glass and steel era began (right). Now the area is set to receive a $1 billion makeover, completion date 2016. The project calls for a vast glass canopy measuring 38,000 square feet covering the shopping complex and nearby green spaces. Also in the offing- a new library, a concert hall and more cafes. 

In my opinion, someone in the Paris mayor's office is wearing Bad Idea jeans. I mean, I'm just a guy from Pennsylvania so what do I know. But glass canopies covering the nearby green spaces- c'mon. Bad idea. Come to think of it, my hometown had a glass canopy. It covered the downtown shopping area. Wasn't long after it was built that the local merchants split for the mall and every third storefront was a pawn shop. 

OK. Specious logic, but still. Those canopies were wretched. They induced a kind of open-air claustrophobia. And for what? UV protection? So Allentonians didn't have to carry umbrellas? 

Fortunately, there's one part of Les Halles that's not going to get a makeover:

Residents successfully opposed the redesign of the children's playground and changes to the Place Rene-Cassin, a green space at the foot of the gothic Saint Eustache church. This is where Nick and I cast some long, good shadows in the late afternoon of our first day. 

The vibe here? Imagine a dog run, but with children instead of canines. 

Boistrous as shit, all ages, all breeds. There's a euro-style junglegym at the entrance. They seem to favor modern looking, heavy rope-webbing/trellis structures to the wooden Noah's Ark and ChooChoo train getups you see in the states. Walk up a very small hill and you're facing St. Eustache church, with the Bourse due west of you. 

I had not yet thought to buy a ball for the dear boy, but he managed to find some kids to share theirs.  

'Share' may be pushing it. Several times, Nik had gone after a pink and blue ball belonging to a young girl. And several times the young girl yelled, "Petit!" and grabbed it away from him. Finally, young Kwame here grew bored of what he was doing and tolerated Nick playing around with his yellow soccer ball. Thanks, mec.

On our way out of Les Halles we made a point of stopping by the Jardin des Enfants to have a looksee at the elephants that guard the entrance. The 

Jardin des Enfants, which offers several precarious attractions (climbing wall, tunnel, maze and slides) is reserved for kids between 7 and 11 years olds. Adults are strictly forbidden. Fewer credible witnesses. Fewer lawsuits. 

Quick stop on the way back to Rue de la Paix. Beer for dad. 

Kiss both cheeks 'n call it a day!

Saturday

...began just the same as other days...

...but ended up different in many ways... 

            -Lyrics courtesy of Karen Carpenter

Merci, Meghlah

The trip over. 767 packed to the rafters. Much time spent in the bulkhead alcoves. The dear boy doing aisle runs for the first two hours. Playing with light switches, unlatching tray fasteners, hanging from the magazine rack bar, and, in one particularly forlorn moment of the soul, the possibility of catching even 30 minutes sleep seeming ever so dim, American Dad helping himself to a champagne split from a rear galley cabinet. The Dear Boy had unlatched it; my hand just kind of fell in there. What can I say?

Bad daddy.

Anyway, a year does make a difference. Five months was way the frig easier than sixteen months. But thankfully we had a good neighbor. He was 8 years old and traveling with his older brother and his parents, a French expat family living in New York. I asked him his name in French and he said, "Meghlah."

"Comment?" I said.

"Meghlah!" he repeated.

We went back and forth like this about three or four times until finally the young man dispensed with politeness.

"In English ees pronounce 'Myrrh-lin'."

"Oh, Merlin."

"Oui," he said, and for a split second he seemed kind of off-put about the English/American pronunciation. I could be reading into it, of course. But then again, Meghlah, when you pronounce it with all proper emphasis and Gallic timbre, does sound a helluva lot better than Myrrh-lin.

Meghlah indulged Nik for much of the flight, asking many questions, making silly faces to get him to laugh, sharing his chocolates and Babybel cheese wheels and even offering me his French translated copies of "Captain Underpants" for entertainment.

Meghlah liked a lot of butter on his bread. He accepted graciously when I offered him the unopened pad off of my tray, and refused politely when I offered him Nik's, saying, "Oh no, is too much."

Later on, to kill some time, I melted Meghlah's face:

And then we melted Nick's:

Somewhere about 1000 clicks east of the Flemish Cap, Nik fell asleep in a bulkhead alcove on a makeshift pallet of Continental blankets and pillows, his feet poking into the aisle. I stood and read Captain Underpants in French, sipped champagne, and every so often directed some bathroom-bound traveler over or around the dear boy's toes.

Couldn't Have Said it Better!

Six straight days of 5am wakeups- my sentiments exactly, boy.



P minus four hours and counting...

The New Transparency

Mommy's all over this one. Well curated by Monsieur Blanks 

Invest in...what?

Au Revoir, Paris

Cetait real.

Pont Neuf Redux

9.28.8

3.7.9

Less is Moor

Following a quick scoot through the Picasso Museum, American Baby and I spent our final afternoon in the Arab district, checking out the Paris Mosque and the neighboring Jardin des Plantes.

We'd tried to visit the mosque the day before, however they follow a strict no-infidels rule on Fridays. A very friendly, intense young man named Hakim invited us back today. So we took him up on it.

I'm too beat to write much tonight, so I'll let the pics do the talking and fill in some details later. The shot that doesn't look like a mosque is from the Jardin des Plantes. Not sure if those are kangaroos in the background or some other marsupial.