A Promenade on a former elevated railroad track, 15e arrondissement

Dear Mother,

The other day I took a rather long leisurely walk.  I took 'our' métro (#8) almost to the end at the other side of Paris, and then walked nearly around the southern part of the city, following the new tram tracks.  During that walk, I came across a former elevated railroad which is now disused and has been turned into a path/ecological area, right on the edge of the city.  It is difficult to read the fine print or see the map, but the information indicates that this "Small Belt of the 15th arrondissement" is part of the city's growing reclamation of space from train tracks.  Instead, they are simply allowing plants to grow as they wish.  One sign indicated that three 'salaried' (full-time employees) are employed to look after this long trail daily. 

Unlike another former elevated rail road (in a more wealthy part of the city), this one is not carefully planted, with waterways, flowers, etc.  Here we have only a long packed-stone path which still retains the railroad ties, and along the way, trees have either been planted or allowed to grow.  The result is a lovely green belt.

I liked this portion of the trail, where one track moves off to the left and downhill to the former industrial sites below the elevated tracks, while the other progresses at its elevated level.

I did not start at the beginning of the trail, so I only know that the path extends at least 10.75 kms.  That's impressive in the midst of one of the world's major cities.

Every now and then, along the way, one can see through the thick tree foliage and be reminded that, yes, we are in the midst of a major city that is absolutely packed with condos and apartments inhabited by thousands of people who will never know what it is like to have a small plot of land to cultivate.  But they can go walking on this elevated path.

Train tracks and their walls have been targets of graffiti artists for decades, likely ever since spray paint cans were invented.  This stretch has some interesting 'art', usually highly stylized tags or signatures.  Many people hate them, but I find the individualism interesting (of course it's not my property).

I was amused to see one lone poppy in the midst of everything else.  I wonder if more poppies will appear.  It would be great to have an elevated field of poppies.

I'm not sure how mothers with strollers managed these stairs, but the ascent would have discouraged all but the most determined.

This shows the end of the developed pathway (there is a fence blocking off the tunnel, to be continued?)  Sturdy stairs take us back to the street level in this hilly part of Paris.

An elevator is being added, which will enable mothers with strollers and others easy access to the 10+kms of pathway.

I forgot to include a photo of a former station, or at least that's what I assume it was.  I could not get close enough to examine things.

The day was on the cool side, obviously cloudy, so I enjoyed the 8 km (?) walk.  I ended up at the Bistro Porte d'Orée, where we had a wonderful dinner with the Bloughs and Philippe Gonzales, from Geneva, who will be hosting us for dinner there next week Friday.

Well, all for now, with love from us both,

Evan

Lin (linen) exhibition in the Marais, Paris

Dear Mother,

Rehearsing with the Ars Antiqua the past several days has repeatedly taken me to the Marais.  After the first rehearsal, I decided to stroll down Michel's street (Turenne) and turn onto the Rue des Francs-Bourgeois to visit the Square Louis XIII, which I think of as the very heart of the Marais district.

I won't even pretend that this Louis or any other was anything other than arrogant beyond belief.  This statue initially gives the impression that the young king is smiling, but that is only because the skill of the sculptor chiseled a mustache which creates that effect.  Sneer maybe, but smile never.  I'm reading about Louis XIV and what a terrible father Louis XIII had been to him, so I admit to my prejudice.  Anyway, today we're concentrating on 'his' square.

The first day I walked by, I noticed workmen busily erecting some metal pipes and scaffolding within an area enclosed by temporary fencing, and I thought nothing of it.  But another block to the west caught my eye and that of everyone else.  The enormous lamp shades which had just been hung over a busy pedestrian street were most unusual, if not exactly beautiful.

I told Janice about them, so we returned in the evening to see how they looked when lit.  But it gets dark so late these days that we returned by 10 and figured it is a sight we simply won't see.

Underneath, the lamps either read, "I love linen" or indicated that the exhibition was sponsored by the European Union.  Apparently almost 80% of the world's linen comes from France and Holland, so this was being celebrated in typical French fashion.

First, city dwellers simply must see flax growing, so people constructed numerous sturdy wooden boxes, filled them with dirt, and grew a very healthy crop of flax which spread for half a city block.  People could not resist touching and photographing the "field".

Next, you need to display an enormous stack bales of the harvested dry flax which will provide the fibers for the threads.

They also stacked many cartons of the processed flax, showing it after being separated into fine fibers which will be twisted into threads.

There were many impressive spools of died thread, fairly sturdy stuff. 

Several workers were available to explain the exhibition, in various languages, for this is a tourist area.

There were also large bolts of fabric flapping quietly in the breeze.  We had an impressive thunder storm last night.  I had to wonder whether they attempted to protect any of the exhibit.

From this vantage point in the park, you can get an impression of the size of the exhibit, with the bales of cut flax on the far left, the barrels of loose flax fibers lying on their sides, stacked high, the tower of spools of died thread, and the tower of bolts.  What I'm not showing are the articles of clothing, linens, etc in the boxed area (guess I wasn't interested, and it was usually crowded).

Some people enjoyed looking at it from a distance,

and others couldn't care less.

Since the Marais is also known for its many fine clothing stores, several joined into the celebration.

We're getting ready to go to Lyon tomorrow, so we will likely be silent for a few busy days.

With love from us both,

Evan

Pedestrians in Rue des Francs Bourgeois, in the Marais, Paris

Dear Mother,

Yesterday afternoon I went downtown into the Marais (swamp) district (mainly in the 4th district) which has long since been drained and built up with stores, libraries, schools, churches, clothing shops and apartments of all types.  Michel invited me to his flat on the 4th floor on Rue de Turenne to have tea and discuss the music for next week's concert.  We went over the more difficult passages, which I had learned well in advance of coming.  It went well, and I always enjoy chatting with him.

I then took another of my leisurely strolls through the area and became fascinated with people, often in twos or on smart phones.  The city is filled with characters of every description.  What I have not yet seen is any sign of immigrants, and I only saw three soldiers walking together through the streets.  One would frankly never know there had been trouble, for there is absolutely no sign of it.  Of course, EURO 2016 football (soccer) starts next month and the games televised throughout the world will be tempting targets, so preparations are well underway (we are told).

Since I am spending hours each day walking, I'll begin with some feet which are rather younger than mine.  I think these were lycée students walking after school was out.

These gentlemen almost seem related, and were workers of some sort.  A good shave would be in order.

The lady in the toque is examining a map of Paris, trying to figure out where they are.  He looks patiently resigned and will undoubtedly go wherever his wife says (I know the feeling). 

Her cigarette is not quite visible (out of focus) but many young women do smoke, which is a pity.

More European tourists slightly puzzled by the small streets.  That some of the streets change names every four blocks only adds to the confusion.

A professional beggar all decked out in his garb with the customary props:  drugged puppy sleeping (to arouse interest and pity), a handwritten sign asking for money to eat (he seems reasonably well-fed), and feigning sleep.  Later, he was talking on his cell phone, wide awake and most animated

This time, the husband is studying the map.  I find a small book-map much simpler to use, and of course the map on my phone.  These are European tourists, though I did not hear them talk.  The Americans will soon descend, talking loudly in their equally loud shorts--most undignified.  It is much better to blend into your surroundings (not that I can with my camera, but I try).

I would have to make this photo rather larger for you to see the ever-present cigarette in the hand that is also typing on the smartphone.  Very Parisian for young women on break.

I'm glad to see that scarves are still in vogue for French women.  I find them very comforting, even in look.  Janice certainly likes to wear hers, sometimes even inside.

I had to wonder if this worker was one that is being threatened by the proposed labour laws that will let employers lay off workers far more easily than before.  Consequently, enormous strikes are being predicted, and some are already in effect.  Some gas stations are running out of petrol, trains will soon stop running, possibly some airports, trucks are blocking ports, several major refineries have ceased to produce gasoline . . . goodness, it must already be springtime in France.

I just had to 'shoot' her brilliant coat; it was eye-catching.

His expressive face was typically French, as he forms the vowel "u" in ways English speakers find to be far too much work, but it makes a significant difference.

This morning we went shopping at the market in Charenton, getting fresh vegetables from Brittany, prepared dishes from the new local deli (which is simply excellent), and a copy of Le Parisiene to see what they are saying about the possible "total paralysis" as certain workers go on strike.  I wonder whether we might need to cancel our concerts and trip because of no gasoline!  Stay tuned.

With love from us both,

Evan

Le Parisien

It's France in May...

Translation: toward a total paralysis (i.e., transportation strikes and gasoline shortages due to closure of some ports). How bad will it be?

An Evening Stroll on Rue du Docteur Decorse, in Saint Maurice, France

Dear Mother,

We arrived at CDG safely, after being in the plane 11.5 hours.  Extra time was needed for picking up passengers at Calgary, and we were not allowed to leave the plane.  We were so thankful we had purchased seats with extra room in all directions, though sleep was impossible.  We arrived in Paris at about 10:45 p.m. Vancouver time/7:45 Paris time.  The lady at customs looked ever so stern, but asked us nothing and simply stamped our passports, so we were "in".  When getting a taxi, we sought assurance that he accepted credit cards (we got stung last year), only to discover that I neglected to write down my new code for my US credit card (Janice's works).  The taxi ride was at the very height of rush hour, but we got an excellent driver who knew how to move from lane to lane smoothly and calmly.  I complimented him on his driving.  The Bloughs were here to welcome us most warmly.  Since we have lived here one month/year for seven years, we know exactly where to put everything in the small room by now.  We went shopping, at times almost falling over from being disoriented while negotiating the uneven pavement, but we made it, got by with our French, and had a nice light lunch.

On Friday evening, even though we were in a haze, we took a brief walk to our of our favourite streets on the edge of St Maurice, the Rue du Docteur Decorse (he had been the mayor of Saint Maurice from 1876-1886 and the chief surgeon at the hospital).  The street begins just off the small but attractive Square du Val d'Osne and runs parallel to the Saint-Maurice Hospital and the Avenue de Gravelle, which runs along the edge of the Bois de Vincennes (Woods of Vincennes, former royal hunting ground).  The houses are in a somewhat older style, likely mostly from the late 1800s and early 1900s.  They were built for people of some substance.  By now, some are a bit rundown, some are clearly renovated, and there are quite a few that I would enjoy seeing--and using for my own!

This first shot sums up how we feel, even today (our second full day is always the hardest).

As we walk uphill on Rue du Val d'Osne, on which the Centre is located, I always enjoy seeing the tall block of apartments on the corner.  Its roof line of slate is so French, and it looks like the builder hoped that other buildings would adjoin this one and continue the lines, but it was not to be.  You can just barely see that the building then goes back into the deep lot, with room for quite a few residents.

People are always looking for work.  One old ad, pasted on this descending spout for rain water from a roof, indicates that a woman is looking for some cleaning, another indicates that a man is able to fix just about everything imaginable in your flat, etc.

It doesn't take long to find places that ought to be contacting handymen.

This (below) is a bit of the Square du Val d'Osne.  It has a small fountain in a sort of roundabout, surrounded by nice flowers and a wide path for pedestrians, typically made of fine stones well-packed and firm.  The Rue du Docteur Decorse begins at the left of the house with two colours of bricks and great plantings.

The house's wisteria is in full bloom, with a wonderful spring-like perfume.  The sidewalk is the typical red smooth paving that children love because their small scooters can really move along swiftly, to and from most anywhere, especially school.
 

These purple flowers were creeping out of the space between the iron fence and its supporting stone wall.

I assume that the new lock on the left works and the slot for a small crank (?) on the right no longer proves useful, but what do I know.

They say that if we were to leave our cities alone, empty, vegetation would soon take over.  That gives me hope.

Janice wanted me to show you these truly uncomfortable chairs, a two-seater, which might have been elegant in a previous era.  Apparently it is too valuable to toss and too worthless to fix.

Saint Maurice, "City of Flowers", a designation that towns and villages crave, both in the hope of their residents taking pride in their homes and window boxes, and in the hope that people will visit.  

I can't resist a nice graffito, if indeed that is what it even is.