Rue de Turenne

Dear Mark and Amy,

We never got to show you the Rue de Turenne during your last visit.  Even though it is typical of so many other Parisian streets, it has become a favourite of mine.  The street is named after Henri de la Tour d'Auvergne (Janice loves Canteloube's Songs of the Auvergne).  He was the Vicomte de Turenne, which is in the Limousin region of France.  Raised a Protestant (Calvinist), he soon developed interest in the military, which for someone of his social standing meant directing armies rather than fighting in their front lines.  I am sorry to say that his first major battle was the seige at 's-Hertogenbosch, where some very important music manuscripts for Pierre de la Rue were commissioned and stored.  I know they survived because I studied them in the 1980s.  He was involved in the battle which brought the Thirty Years War to its conclusion in Germany, and was responsible for the destruction of much of Strasbourg and the Alsace, after which, Janice's Anabaptist ancestors had to flee to the south.  His tomb is in Les Invalides, which I mentioned in my previous blog.  So here I am, a pacifist, drawn to a street named after a famous military figure who didn't care a fig about my favourite Renaissance composer, our brand of religion, or Janice's favourite wines (Alsatian). 

This part of the Marais was best known for making clothing, with a significant role being played initially by the local Jewish community.  I enjoy seeing the suits and shirts, but neglected to photograph any (still sleepy).  This casual shot comes the closest--an ad that is seen all over the city this week.

The street (and several connecting streets also included here without being named) have numerous cafés.  Since the day was the hottest yet, people were seated outside, enjoying refreshments, hoping for the occasional breeze.

As you know, café tables are typically set in very tight arrangements in order to accommodate more customers.  This means that intimate conversations are occasionally overheard by someone with good ears at the next table.

This establishment will open later in the day, but the bottle testifies to joys past and holds promise for the future.

The owner of this cute dog was delighted when I took a photo.  I really wanted a photo of the stately elderly lady, but knew that I would have to settle for her beloved dog.

I may end up with hundreds of photos of people using their mobile phones on the streets.  I am wondering if I should start purposefully collecting such photos:  walking, biking, sitting, supposedly conversing, even driving.  Phones are everywhere, even more so than in Vancouver. Possibly a theme for an exhibition?

Dressy blouse, classy skirt, high heels, purse strapped around her shoulder--hardly the outfit one expects of a motorcyclist.  But women are increasingly using scooters and motorcycles to get around the city. 

This tourist looked so utterly exhausted and bewildered that I had to take her picture.  Actually, I wanted to take her to a café and get her off her poor aching feet.  Any sensible person would have had a lemonade rather than try to add yet another street/monument to the list of things to do that hot afternoon.  But tourists are pressed for time, often assuming they may never return to this place, so the pressure to move forward is powerful indeed.

As you know from the photos in our living room, one of my interests is photographing graffiti.  Recently, I have also been including shots of torn posted bills and ads since they too can form interesting abstract designs.

Finally, two shots that are rather more peaceful.  Ivy is growing nicely (unless of course you own the building, then ivy can be a weed).  I like the way it makes buildings appear less hot in the summer, and when you look out the window, the ivy leaves give the sense of one being surrounded by vegetation.

I believe that we are now looking east, across the broad Boulevard des Filles du Calvaire, which runs parallel to the rue de Turenne.  Time to catch the No. 8 métro.  I initially set out on this trip in order to go over pronunciation of Renaissance French texts with Michel, who was very helpful and patient with me.  I need to work on a few more words at tempo, which I do while using Neal's metronome and electronic keyboard.  Then I think I will be ready for Friday's brief rehearsal.

The heat is supposed to break, and I can't wait,

with love from us both,

Evan

Fêtes des Mères 2017, St Maurice

Dear Mark and Amy,

We arrived in St Maurice Friday noon, safe and sound.  The Air Transat flight was direct, uneventful, and even restful.  But as we unpacked, the list of essential items we really meant to pack but somehow forgot (even though checked off our spreadsheet) slowly grew.  Included were my small 35mm lens for less obnoxious street photography and, more importantly, the part of my laptop cord that goes from the magic black box to the wall.  I think I put a label on the cord and chucked it back into its storage box at home rather than back into the camera bag (sigh). 

Friday, May 26th 

We saw Neal Blough very briefly just before he left to give a talk on the history of Free Churches in France to a Free Church conference south of Paris (2 hours by TGV and 2 more by car into the mountains).  Janice and I visited the local St Maurice market to get supplies just before they closed, including cheeses from our favourite cheese monger--who grinned when seeing us for the first time in 11 months.  We got a sturdy French comté and a mild goat cheese.  I was so out of it that I neglected to take even my pocket camera along, but I'll hopefully get back into the groove in a few days.  After lunch, we got new SIM cards for our two mobile phones, so we can now be connected with friends in France without them worrying about long distance hurdles.  For supper, Janie joined us for 'moitié--moitié, "half-and-half", which in this restaurant means half of a pizza of your choice and half of a large salad of your choice.  It was as good as we remembered, helped by a Bordeaux wine and finished off with a café gourmand, an espresso served with three small tasty desserts. (No camera!)  One of the things we discussed was the incredible influence Alan and Ellie Kreider have had on thinking Christians in Europe.  The owner serves good Italian-style food but is in fact a Coptic Christian who had to leave Egypt years ago.  He is very concerned about the recent renewal of persecution of Coptics in Egypt.

Saturday, May 27th

We visited the much larger market in Charenton, near our métro stop, getting our veggies at a large stand which sells only things grown in France:  fantastic spinach, radishes, beautiful carrots, early strawberries, etc.  Crops mature first near the Mediterranean Sea and then the warm weather moves northward, effectively giving the nation a longer growing season.  Janice lugged the groceries home while I took the métro to the SW part of Paris to visit a store that I hoped might have the cord my laptop requires.

This is the inside of the Charles Michels métro stop.  It is one of a few entrances that lead to an elevated train.  I like the hints of art nouveau and Empire in the architecture.  The less-than-helpful announcement on the monitor simply says it's not working.

I got rather turned around on the unknown streets, with the shadows at high noon not really suggesting north-south and my phone's GPS not giving vocal commands (I'm shy and was quite groggy) but I eventually found the store.  You can imagine my relief when they identified which cord I needed when I showed them what it needed to plug into.  I paid for the unseen cord (my credit card works!) and then I picked it up at another counter, opened the bag--and it fit!  Time to celebrate, so I had lunch at a Japanese sushi shop whose food tasted quite good.  I did notice, however, that the slices of fish were unusually small compared with what we get in Vancouver.  I filled up on rice and green tea and headed back, walking from the Charles Michels métro stop to Les Invalides.  It was hot, getting closer than I like to 90F, or at least it seemed like it on the hard hot airless pavement.  People were wearing their coolest casual clothing, like these locals.
 

It seemed like hundreds of rental bikes were being ignored.  People were not going to work on Saturday, and if possible, many likely preferred to stay inside.

Windows were open, but not all the way, just enough to catch the hopeful breeze while keeping a bit of cool air inside. We have to close our windows by 10:30 and pull the drapes closed if we wish to get any work done.

I could have taken many more photos like this one, showing deserted streets trapping hot air.  I just kept walking, somewhat slowing, always on the lookout for shade.

I finally saw the Église du Dome near Les Invalides, something familiar, and knew I was approaching the River Seine to the north (sometimes, I like to walk without looking at a map and just see what there is to see).  The roof's gold was especially brilliant against the clear blue (hot) sky.

A few people were getting a guided tour featuring Segways, stopping to look at some monument and  then zipping off.  The air would have felt good.  I would like to try one.

These children were cooling their hands under the fountain's running water.  The shade was most welcome, and you can see that the city gave up trying to grow grass under the trees years ago (which of course adds to the sense of it being hot).

When grass does grow, it is allowed to reach its natural height. 

I'm sure this picnic began in the shade, but the sun keeps moving.  

I had intended to keep on walking, but when I realized that I could catch the No. 8 métro line back to Charenton, my tired legs headed straight for the stairs to the underground, so I joined them.

Sunday, Fêtes des Mères

As each of us brothers noted this spring, this was the first year we didn't have a Mother to phone on Mothers Day.  Strangely, Mom's absence almost seems to make the day more important to me, reminding me of what we once had, and what I so often took for granted because after 75 years, well, she has always been there for us.  Paul had even purchased plane tickets well in advance of Mom's birthday so that he could be sure to be with her on that special day, but she never made it.

Well, as usual, we had two Mothers Days this year, the first in Vancouver and the second, a few weeks later, in France.  Janie thoughtfully gave Janice a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses (I was clueless) with the rational that Janice is the "mother of the library".  I ate breakfast and went back to bed, exhausted (day 3 is always my crash day), but was refreshed by noon, in time to join our hosts' family's celebration of Mothers Day with a nice BBQ and pot luck dishes of all kinds. 

Being included in the celebrations made the day special for us.  Conversations flowed in French (and sometimes in English for our benefit, the family is bilingual).  We took a 15-minute walk across the River Marne to see the new condo one of their children just purchased in Maisons-Alfort.  They have remodeled it and will be moving in next week.  It has lots more space than their present much smaller place.  In Vancouver, such a place would be a real 'find'.

Well, I'm sleepy yet again, Janice just phoned Hans, so it's time to turn in,

with love from us both,

Evan