Back in Vancouver

Dear Mother,

I need to phone, but we returned safely to Vancouver.  Jet lag seems to take its toll increasingly as we get older, but it is nice to be home again.

We are immediately impressed by how few people live on Vancouver's streets--compared with the streets in Paris and even St Maurice.  We are also seeing lots of grass for the first time in a month; pretty but sort of useless.  One visit to our local grocery store forcefully reminded me that I am no longer browsing the markets of St Maurice.  Meat, produce, cheese selection (all cheeses here are far too cold), deli section, the bread . . . we are no longer in France.  On this morning's news we learned that Canada is poised to sign a free trade agreement with the European Common Market.  One broadcaster said this means we will be getting cheap French brie.  I have news for that lad:  There is good brie in France, but it is not cheap.

I will be posting the remainder of my better photos on

http://kreiderskorner.blogspot.ca/

once I start processing them.  But until then, here are several photos I took today in the fog at UBC's Botanical Garden.

We already miss Janie's cooking, the Bloughs' companionship, talking and working with Yves, and . . . .

with love from us both,
Evan

Repairing the Centre's Roof, etc.

Dear Mother,

We (meaning Janice) have finished packing everything except what we need for the next half day.  We are just under the weight limits, according to my trusty suitcase scales, so all is well, in spite of numerous books on French Mennonites being brought back.

For four of our five weeks here, some men have been making repairs to the Centre's roof.  The building is over 100 years old, and even some earlier repairs of 30+ years ago needed attention.  The society overseeing the building decided that the roof had to be addressed this year, before water damage became serious.  This was a truly impressive undertaking, one dear to my heart, because we have had to repair the roof at the Menno Simons Centre, Vancouver, repeatedly!

First, scaffolding had to be constructed all across the front of the house in order to protect pedestrians when old tiling and zinc was being removed.  

 Part of the roof was flat enough to walk on, but the back (south) side was quite steep.

Scaffolding with ladders was required at the back, giving access to the roof.

I was able to climb an interior ladder and take photos through a skylight.  Here, the old deteriorated zinc has been removed and new wood installed.  We liked the two workers and provided coffee, juice and cookies for them daily.

After they were finished and everything had been inspected by the architect and boss, I took photos of the finished product.  Looks like it should last a while.

A number of skylights needed to be replaced.  The new ones are perfect, transforming the former attic into a very bright working space.

 

She actually knows where everything is!

This will have to be my final post for this trip.  We will go out to eat this evening since the fridge is cleaned out.  The taxi is reserved for 7:00 a.m.  We will fly from Paris to Frankfurt to Vancouver tomorrow, a reasonably long flight but it should be pleasant on Lufthansa. 

Look forward to talking with you soon, with love from us both,

Evan

Neal Teaching at Catholic University

Dear Mother,

Last week (Thursday), I went with Neal Blough for his first of 12 lectures at l'Institue catholique de Paris, which we might call "Catholic University".  This was founded in 1875, just a few years after the disastrous Franco-Prussian War which caused some of Janice`s ancestors (and everyone else) such hardships.

Neal has participated in numerous Ecumenical dialogues with representatives from various denominations, but especially with informed Catholics.  The invitation to give these lectures on Evangelical Protestantism undoubtedly grew out of some of those contacts made over the past decades.  His having the Ph.D. also helps to open doors here.  These lectures will be explaining the Reformation to senior citizens taking, what we would call, 'continuing education'.  The French kindly refer to this programme as being "The University for the Middle of Life".

After riding several métros, we walked a few blocks to the University (6th arrodissement), which is not far from the Église Saint-Sulpice de Paris, a large church I enjoyed photographing on Pentecost several years ago.  After passing students standing just outside the gate to the University, we entered the passageway itself.  Two floors of classrooms and offices are above this gracious passageway, one where carriages could have entered the enclosed quadrangle of buildings in earlier eras.  By having a single point of entry, security is enhanced.  In any case, I imagine that nobody thinks of driving to class because parking is expensive (if available at all) and Paris is proactive in encouraging the use of public transportation throughout the city.

The electronic display indicates the rooms or halls for each lecture being given at that time.  I don't think that the non-credit lectures were being listed, but might have missed seeing them.

Since this was the first week of classes (European Universities tend to begin in early October), many students were checking to see where to go for their first lectures.

Neal then strode off, following the instructions on the sheet which advertised his talk (conférence).

The inner court was tastefully covered with paving stones and cobblestones.  This is not one of those delightful manicured greens found inside small English college quadrangles, but a major meeting and crossing point for thousands of students.

I took one photo of Neal lecturing, hoping nobody noticed.  I counted about 95 people present, which is impressive.  Most were taking extensive notes using fountain pens.  Questions flowed afterward, even though it was his first presentation and he was not yet known to the auditors.  His first talk briefly explained the various branches of the 16th-century Reformation, their main leaders, and salient differences in belief and practice.  People paid close attention.  I often saw heads nodding in agreement.  I would guess that most in the class were of Catholic background, but that is just my guess.  I had to wonder if anyone decided to take the class as a result of watching the Protestant Fête on TV the other weekend.

The series offers a superb opportunity to explain Protestantism generally and the Anabaptist movement and thinking in particular.  It is surprising that French Mennonites can have such an effective spokesperson in Paris.  After all, there are only some 3,000 Mennonites in all of France.  When Neal gets opportunities like these, I realize that even though there are far more members of Lutheran and Reformed churches, Neal is one of several Mennonites of his generation in France being selected because of an ability to speak in a way that is not confrontational, a way that simply invites you to listen and learn, a way that places Mennonites and Protestants in the general context of French society and history.  This approach keeps on opening doors of opportunity.

Thanks for you last letter.  It meant a lot to us.  We just cleaned the remaining books and cataloguing supplies off the library tables.  Tomorrow we will face packing.

With love from us both,

Evan

Our Recent Activities at the Centre Mennonite de Paris

Dear Mother,

Only today and tomorrow in France, then we fly early Sunday morning (way too early, but that's the way it goes).  Janice and Yves have been working hard on the library.  Yves had done the initial cataloguing on the books over the last two years, commuting to the Centre weekly during the school year to put in 1.5 days each time.  Janice then reviewed his categories, proofed things, rethought categories (thinking of ways visiting scholars might think when working on the more popular Anabaptist topics).  I mark the cards, pockets and labels--careful but mindless work, suits me perfectly.

The Centre has to find new space for books and wanted to help the library office space be more efficient.  For years, a large (dark and not inspiring) painting has hung on the wall above the library office desk, making the room less bright while consuming valuable wall space.  I was delighted to see the painting finally be removed.

Yves and Neal then brought some shorter shelves from his office to the library.

In no time, the shelves were put to good use, housing cataloguing reference works and books to be catalogued.  These will be temporary.  They hope to cover the wall with better shelves by next year, leaving a place for the desk.

The laptop houses years of cataloguing, with backups.  I looked at the screens to see what was happening.  This requires careful work, and although Yves does most of the entries, Janice also works on it daily.  Right now, her brain is accustomed to the French keyboard (a is where we put q, periods have to be capitalized, etc.)

Yesterday (Thursday) the library team essentially concluded the largest part of this year's assignment, cataloguing some 245 books (and more are being done today and tomorrow).  After the numbers etc. were entered on the books, I stacked them on a table.  We wanted a photo of the unsteady stacks before the arduous task of shelving began.

The international cataloguing system (Universal Decimal Classification) used here is new to us.  I find it to be very complicated but am told that it is also nicely flexible for a highly specialized scholarly collection like the Centre's.

When the table and desk were cleared, it was time to pause at the end of the day and plan ahead for next year.  Where to put new shelving, what other new categories might be useful, etc.

One older book, a concordance for the Vulgate (Latin) Bible may not be of much use to us.  I took some photos of it in case the Library decides to give it to another library or sell it.  We'll see.

One of the projects for this year's visit was cataloguing the books on worship (leading, music, children, etc.)  Janie is working in this area for her doctorate, which will be finished shortly.  All the books in this one area are now pulled together in one place, which is handy for Janie's research.

The weather has really cooled.  The past two weeks had been unseasonably warm, which has been a treat for us when shopping , but now we feel fall is truly in the air.  Furnaces are traditionally not turned on until October 15th, so we simply wear more layers and enjoy hot tea or coffee from time to time.

Last evening we had our final Thursday staff meal with the Bloughs.  Yves comments that with chefs like Janie, who needs restaurants.  The first course was a special smoked dried ham Yves received from a friend in the south of France.  To continue the theme, Janie then made a beautiful cassoulet (large white beans, two kinds of duck confit--one spicy and one normal, very typical of the south, especially Carcassonne).  This was followed by three cheeses, and finally some little pastries from the local bakery.  It's enough to make one think of returning next spring.

All for now, with love from us both,

Evan

Restaurant Le Procope, "The oldest café in the world"

Dear Mother,

There are times when we simply 'luck out' with restaurants, and yesterday was such a time.  We worked at the Centre all morning, and then took the afternoon off, going downtown.  Ostensibly, Janice was looking for books and I wanted to shoot photos the rest of the day until I was too tired to move.  Over our past four sojourns here, I have developed the habit of sensing it is time to go into Paris to shoot, walking to the métro, and then deciding where to get off when the spirit moves.  True to form, we did this again, changing our minds repeatedly--several times at the very last second.  We ended up on the left bank (left, as you exit Notre Dame Cathedral).  I remembered there being restaurants near the bookstores by Place St-Michel, but since those establishments are primarily for tourists, we went two more stops to Odéon, emerged into the bright sunlight, and started walking.  Then we inexplicably turned around and walked the other way.

We soon spotted a quaint alley, and after walking through it, found yet another lovely alley.  We were now coming upon numerous little cafés, so we casually looked at what people were eating at the tables set outside on the cobblestones, examined menus, and kept thinking 'there must be something better still.'  Finally, hunger started focused our attention.  We decided that even though this little place didn't look like much, it was promising because the only people I could see eating inside seemed to be non-tourists (good sign), it seemed to be full (another good sign), and the only menu was in French (a most promising sign).  We entered, and were ushered through the restaurant, up a floor, and to the main entry from a very nice street.  As we walked through the restaurant, we quickly realized this was no ordinary establishment we had stumbled upon, and that we had entered from the back door, tourists that we are.

This website will give far better photos than mine!  If you click on the tiny English flag, the site will switch to English:

www.procope.com

We were given a small table for two in what must have been the office in former days.  It was a walk-through but beautifully decorated small room with full-length mirrors covering much of the wall I faced.  This meant that I could see what was happening behind me.  There was a table for two next to us, possibly 18 inches from ours after we moved ours a bit away.  We eventually realized that the couple, possibly five years our junior, were celebrating his anniversaire (birthday).  The sparkler on his dessert broke the ice (finally).

Little did we know that we had happened upon the oldest café in the world, one offering continuous service since 1686, the days of Louis XIV and 90 years before the Americans revolted.  Here is a photo of the plaque on the front of the building, something we saw as we left the restaurant through the front door:

Café Procope

founded here by [the Italian]

Procopio dei Coltelli

in 1686.

The oldest café in the world and the most celebrated centre

of literary and philosophical life during the 18th and 19th centuries.

It was frequented by La Fontaine, Voltaire, the Encyclopediasts,

Benjamin Franklin, Danton, Marat,

Robespierre, Napoléon Bonaparte, Balzac, Victor Hugo,

Gambetta, Verlaine, and Anatole France.

[my rough translation]

Café Procope founded in 1686.

During the Revolution, it became Le Café Zoppi 

and was the theatre for historic events. 

Marat came here from the neighbourhood

and the Club des Cordeliers met here.

Word for the order to attack the Tuileries on the 20th of June and the 

16th of August 1792 came from the Procope.  

Herbert here smashed the marble on the desk of Voltaire during an inflamed harangue,

and here the Phrygian hat was worn for the first time.

You can just make out some books on the very slender bookcase which was one table away from us.  The restaurant had bookcases throughout, featuring great authors of the 18th and 19th centuries.

Janice sat facing what appeared to be an office where waiters recorded things on the computer, collected freshly-ironed table cloths (a new one for each customer), and books, new and old.

It cannot be seen properly, but we entered the back door (next photo).  The yellow ceiling (under glass) and the large yellow panel between the door and window had lengthy quotations from the Rights of Man, rights discussed over meals in this establishment before and during the French Revolution, partially drawn up here and hammered out elsewhere.  The eventual document reflected some of the thinking of the colonialists' Bill of Rights, which in turn was taken from French philosophical thinking of the time.

History is great, I love it, but it was getting toward 1:45 and we were hungering after food more than philosophy or literature, so we ordered.  Everything was so good.  I won't give you the French, but I had a tartare of salmon with dill on a white plate bearing the restaurant's name and date of founding.

Janice enjoyed her mesclun salad with violet artichokes and slices of Parmesan shavings.

We ordered a half bottle of Saint-Emilion (2009) which opened up beautifully as the meal progressed.  Yves tells me that he always opens his Bordeaux wine right after breakfast so that the wine is ready by supper.  I think he is right--this one certainly changed as it was exposed to oxygen.

We both had lieu (fish) with a lovely crust and pesto.  But my favourite part of this course is the delicacy on the left:  puff pastry (I think), covered with perfectly browned onions and separately fried ripe tomatoes.  The combination was so sweet, something I intend to try.

 My dessert was frozen Sabayon with amaretto,

and Janice had some utterly rich chocolate cake with melted chocolate inside and a scoop of raspberry sorbet on the side.

On my (inevitable) journey to the toilettes (up another floor, down a long hallway, with doors for "citoyennes" (women citizens of the Revolution) and "citoyens" (male citizens).  Sadly, I neglected to photograph the gold-painted toilet seats--a bit over the top.  Along the way were a number of smaller private rooms, suitable for lengthy discussions and the making of political plots.

The upstairs also had a larger dining room with floor-to-ceiling French windows looking over the balcony and street.

This is the front, where normal folks enter.  None of the balcony tables were being used, but it would be an interesting place for a leisurely repast someday.

After 'lunch', we headed off for the collection of bookstores known as Gibert Jeune,.  I like to visit their history bookstore annually.  This time I limited myself to one book, Les secrets des abbayes et des monastères (2013), which delves into recalcitrant monks, traffic in relics, power plays within monastic structures and the tensions between pious living and human personalities.  Hardly uplifting stuff, but it interests me.

Janice went to a differet Gibert Jeune store for books that interest her, and we parted ways for the rest of the day.  I walked for the next six hours, shooting whatever caught my attention.  It is an interesting way to see a city because I have to slow down, not go anywhere in particular, just keep looking.  I try to remember to turn and look behind me every several minutes--maybe the sun has changed, maybe something new is about to happen, maybe the scene looks better from a different angle.

The large fountain at Place St-Michel was being repaired, but this never stops buskers, mime artists and the like.  This chap is dressed in a gold-painted (?) suit and mask.  His trick is to appear seated but without any visible means of support such as a chair.  People love it, put money into his box and then get their photo taken with him.  Hours later I returned to the same spot to see him packing up.  As I suspected, there is a very sturdy metal structure which goes up his pant leg somehow and bends to offer him a place to sit (one cheek only presumably).  The box is heavily weighted so that it doesn't fall over, so it had to be wheeled away on a cart.  He is a most pleasant fellow and pulls in more money than any other street people I have ever seen.

Students still love to sit on the large stone steps which descend from the island's main level down closer to the level of the River Seine.   They like to read, chat, smoke and/or eat.  Everybody can see them, yet they cannot be overheard and it is very private.

As the sun got much lower and dusk was settling in, the lighting became interesting.  I wish the street lights came on sooner, but saving energy is a good thing.

On Cité, this little tourist taxi was busy.  I'm not sure how much one can see from there.

As the lights came on, Gibert Jeune began looking rather more yellow, the store's signature colour.

I ambled over to see Notre Dame as the lights came on.  They have erected a (temporary?) scaffolding which lets you see the building's facade from about 30 feet higher, which is a treat.  The lights then come on very slowly, almost imperceptibly, starting at the top.  I felt it was time to head back, so I did not stay to the end.

My favourite shot of the day shows a distant bridge's lights through the iron railing on another bridge.  The railing itself was nicely lit.  If I had a tripod here, I could get both in focus, but this had to be hand-held.

I slept well last night, aching feet and all.  Today (Tuesday) is overcast with the possibility of showers.  I think I will head back downtown after lunch (Janice just bought a fresh baguette) and see what there is to see.  This evening I will go to hear Neal's lecture to some congregations interested in ecumenicism.  He will be talking about the history of the Anabaptists and French Mennonites, and how they fit into the French Protestant scene.  I'm looking forward to his illustrations.  Plans for Wednesday remain suitably vague--Rouen?  Grand Palais (for an exhibition of a Swiss painter's works)?  Lunch?  (a given).

With love from us both,

Evan