American Baby in Paris: March 2009

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Saturday, March 7, 2009

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.

The Old Neighborhood

Took Nick up to Montmartre yesterday. We made a b-line from our hotel on Rue de Paix to Place de Clichy, which was sort of the back entrance to my old neighborhood.

Looks like Brasserie Wepler got a new awning. Aside from that, P.d.C. remains the same buzzing, gritty, loose, border-of-Pigalle

roundabout that I knew, loved and wrote about once upon a time.

Place de Clichy, and Boulevard St. Ouen, which spurs north from it, are parts of Paris that don't get much guidebook attention. There's a layer of dirt on the buildings. Sidewalks are gum-pocked. The faces you see walking up and down the boulevard are darker. Residents are as likely to be central and north African as they are to be home-grown Frenchies. Trannies populate the cafes. Sorry, but you just don't see that in the inner ring of arrondisements.

Oh, and my favorite Zinc bar now has a full blown OTB. Nick and I stopped in to get some hot water for formula and change from the Spitfire to our Lascal perforate-lined baby carrier.

It was Friday and a lively crowd of middle aged and older gentlemen appeared to be blowing some portion of their pensions on the ponies.

From the Zinc bar it was a quick walk up Rue Etex (always loved that name) to 71 Rue Ganneron, my old home. I was tempted to ring the doorbell to see if Delphine, who'd leased me her apartment, wanted to get a drink. But then I recalled that Laika had scratched up her front door the day before we left. Best to let sleeping dogs lie (or something like that).

- 71 rue Ganneron

It's How We Roll!

Rotating

Favorite Track:

Killing the Blues
(over and over)

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Favorite Track:

Australia

Friday, March 6, 2009

La Piscine Josephine Baker

Paris digs a nice public swimming pool. One of the best is La Piscine Josephine Baker which is situated on a barge on the Seine in Bercy (13th arr.). The roof is retractable for swimming al fresco when the weather is warm. Despite the name, we did not encounter any topless singer/dancers during our swim. Quelle dommage.

Before entering the locker room everyone removes shoes and socks and walks through the compulsory foot bath.

The locker room is co-ed, with individual changing stalls and one baby-changing station.

Nik loves the water and gets rather excited whenever he changes into his baby wetsuit.

Unfortunately, the swimsuit his dad brought along did not meet Gallic specifications. Apparently, any style of spandex or lycra banana hammock would have been fine. Speedo? Shoulder thong a la Borat? No problem. But a simple pair of board shorts? Le ne marche pas. (Yes, Paris digs a nice nonsensical rule or two). This meant we were relegated to the kiddie pool, but no biggie. A good time was had...

Unicorns are Free

Spent the morning at the Musee National de Moyen Age, aka the Cluny Museum. I'd never been to

the Cluny and was pleased to make my first trip there with the dear boy. The Cluny (5th arr.) is partly situated on the former location of the 3rd century Gallo-Roman baths and is devoted to all manner of medieval precious arts. Which is to say religious art, mostly. Which is to say I thought we might be bored. But we were not.

The density of artistic detail, be it on tapestries, stained glass, iconography, plating, military craft, or reliquaries really is mind-boggling. Nik especially enjoyed the much celebrated Lady And The Unicorn tapestries (and now looks forward to seeing the film version of the '04 Tracy Chevalier novel of same). Suffice to say, the Cluny is a very worthwhile, if somewhat unsung, Paris museum experience.

Here follow some pics from the Cluny:

The bottom panel of this stained glass window from a.d. 1170 depicts St. Nicholas bestowing a big bag of casheesh on the father of a trio of prostitutes. Legend has it the big gift of money saved the girls from a life of brotheldom...

Le bebe Jesus in these four virgin/child statuettes looks rather French. No?

Some other Cluny stuffs:

Ouch!

Freedom Fries

Couldn't resist. Same exact french fry taste. Same exact sated feeling after finish. Same exact McNausea ten minutes later.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Jupiter and Semele

The last time I took Nik up to Montmartre, we walked from Opera up to Place de Clichy, stopping at the Museum Nationale de Gustave Moreau along the way. Moreau, a symbolist painter of the mid to late 1800's, was heavy into classical mythological and biblical representation. Props to him, I suppose, for not hopping on the impressionist bandwagon which was rolling by the time he reached middle age.

So, a visit to the Moreau museum puts you inside of the painter's house, where you get to see how he reconfigured the 2nd and 3rd floors into a massive atelier. It also puts you in front of one of the trippiest paintings ever, "Jupiter and Semele".

That's the painting in the upper right. The detail is staggering. And here below are a few closeups from inside the work:

The story of Jupiter and Semele comes from the Roman poet, Ovid, whose long narrative verse, The Metamorphoses, presented a sequential telling of the ancient Greek and Roman legends. Here's how the UK's National Gallery website summarizes the story:

The subject is taken from Ovid's 'Metamorphosis'. Semele was a mortal woman beloved by the god Jupiter. Hoping to gain immortality, she begged him to come to her in his godly form, but the divine thunder and lightning destroyed her.

"Divine thunder and lightning" huh? Is that speaking mythologically or euphemistically or both?

Sur Ecoute

American Baby and I flew over on a Continental Airlines Boeing 777 named the "Gordon M. Bethune". That's after the retired former CEO of Continental Airlines who is credited with turning the company around in the '90's.

During the flight, I watched an episode of The Wire with the French subtitles on. Turns out in France The Wire is called Sur Ecoute. Literally, this translates to "under listen" which I'm guessing really means "eavesdrop". Oh, and in the French version the character Bunk is "le Bunk" .

The Wire equals Eavesdrop? Fair enough. This did, however, get me thinking about the bizarre, and sometimes profane ways film titles get translated into other languages for foreign markets. Here, courtesy of the internets and powered by jetlag, is a list of peculiar titles:

Original................Translation
Boogie Nights........His Powerful Device Makes Him Famous (Chinese)
Risky Business......Just Send Him To University Unqualified (Chinese)
Fargo......Mysterious Murder in Snowy Cream (Chinese)
Home Alone...........Kevin, Alone at Home (German)
Monster's Ball........Chocolate (Japanese)
Being John Malcovich.......The Hole of Malcovich (Japanese)
Charlie's Angels......Three Angels for Charlie (German)
Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure......Bill & Ted's Displaced Trip Through Time (Jap.)
The Full Monty.......Six Naked Pigs (Chinese)
As Good As It Gets.....It Does Not Get Better (German)
Girl, Interrupted.....17-year-old Girl’s Medical Chart (Chinese)
Groundhog Day......Waking Up Yesterday Morning (Israeli)
Good Will Hunting.........A Rebel By Choice (Polish)
Rabbit Proof Fence.........1500 Miles Barefoot (Japanese)
Brokeback Mountain......Faggot Cowboys (Turkish pirated version)

Nick's First Fashion Show

We went to Versailles this morning. Nik snoozed through the hall of mirrors and la chambre de Marie Antoinette, but awoke in time to take in the Grand Hall of Military Victories. The Grand Hall of Military Victories runs about the length of a football field. The massive murals that line both sides of the hall extol 1400 years of French courage in battle.

1400 years and an entire football field- that's a lot of warring. And no small bit of courage. Does the size and abundance of these pro-war murals give the lie to the French reputation for retreat in the heat of battle? I can't say, but the whole thing does recall a joke I once heard:

Q: What's the shortest book ever written?

A: French War Victories.

There's another funnyhaha having to do with a certain model of Citroen having four speeds, three of them being in reverse. But I digress...
Versailles was merely an amuse bouche to our noon-time main: Nik's first runway show. The fall 2009-10 collection of Anne Valerie Hash was held at the designer's atelier in the 10th arrondissement. It is reviewed here by Nicole. Nik's two cents --he dug it, for sure-- are offered below. Listen closely and you can hear several approving grunts: