There is a giant blue pepper (by Patrick Laroche) sitting at Place René Char, nestled between Boulevard St Germain, Boulevard Raspail and rue du Bac. Very shiny and as much as I love my veggies, this is just weird as an art concept. Seeing the “pepper holder” referring to Galerie 208 Chicheportiche, there are, presumably, more vegetable sculptures in that gallery.
Aaaaand speaking of pepper, I recently tried stuffed chilli pepper at a Peruvian restaurant near Jardin des Plantes. Delicious and authentic food to be had there, and boy has that dish had a good kick of spice in that chilli. Even for someone with high tolerance to spicy food, I was losing my tastebuds to the heat of the dish. Not a dish I could recommend to too many people I guess, which is a shame, because it was pretty tasty.
The signs of Parisian street name are generally quite standardised. There are a few odd ones here and there, mostly because they were signs from the old days before the city council imposed a regulated signage system. Or you are rich enough to own a building and pay for someone to redesign the marker that sits outside your building. (Read all about the fascinating history behind street name signage here.)
They probably wouldn’t have approved one for Avenue des Naked City, not that we have a street of such name but it is also grammatically incorrect. However it hasn’t stop someone from getting creative and labelled this on rue de Beaume. Whether if this is a prank, or someone trying to do some clever marketing (according to Google there is a band of this name), well, I don’t know.
I climbed a gate this morning to get out from the compound of my building.
My friend and I were heading out to go to the market when we were stopped at the main door. There was a filming across the road, and we would have to wait till an all-clear was given by the director. They were filming some Chinese tv series (I didn’t quite catch the name). 10 minutes later, we were still waiting and our receptionist then offered to let us out via the garden. Sure, why not?
Except there was a locked gate to the garden, that was what. And this time she didn’t have a key for that. Climbing over then. Of course, as we walked past the set, we noted they were changing scenes and we could have actually came out of our building the proper way. Never mind.
I now wonder what series is it exactly.
From the exterior, this glass building could pass for an old, disused metro station from the era of Art Nouveau. It’s pretty yet subtle, with names inscribed on the wall referring to rivers near Paris. This hints on the purpose of the site itself, formerly a stone mine but today a water reservoir that would serve the left bank and areas south of Paris.
Water channelled in from the aquaducts of Loing, Lunain, Vanne and Voulzie are stored away from plain sight, under grass-covered hills of which the glass building sits atop. The interior resembles a massive cathedrale which has been inundated with clear water (Google and you will see), and how I would love to see that for myself. However, as you can imagine, for health and safety reasons, a tour into the reservoir would just not be possible. What a pity.
Swish, swosh, swish…
In Paris, it is very common to see someone on a pair of rollerblades, getting around from one place to another. Even the policemen. There are events catering for groups of rollerbladers citywide, and one of the largest is Pari-Roller, when thousands of rollerbladers take to the road on Friday nights, covering tens of kilometres route for about 3 hours around the city. They are really quite impressive and the group has been active since 1994!
On a smaller scale, I’ve often spotted rollerbladers at Pont au Double (next to Notre Dame), and these are no common rollerbladers. They are true showmen. For their and our viewing leisure, they spend hours performing feats which I know not the names of the tricks, be it a forward or a reverse run, fully standing or otherwise. If you have some time, you should go round and check it out.
I was crossing Île de la Cité to get to the Left Bank when this sight caught my attention. First of all, yes, it’s very picturesque. However, more strikingly, is that the terrace is empty. Empty! That’s unlike Paris that I’m seeing everywhere, where tourists and locals alike (ok, maybe less locals) jostle for a spot outside, all year round. And Île de la Cité is right smack in the centre of Paris! The signage indicates that this is not a mere café or restaurant, but also a guesthouse (auberge). In fact, it is auberge depuis 1594. Truly befitting the name “At Old Paris” then.
I can only postulate the reasons for it being this quiet: (1) it was closed (but a quick search online says it’s open daily), (2) it was a bit chilly (although not overly so to discourage outdoor coffee intake), (3) it was not yet opened for the evening (it was, afterall, not yet 7pm), (4) they don’t serve just coffee and snack (afterall, it is more of a restaurant), (5) questionable quality (but reviews online had plenty of positive things to say that I’m curious to try it out) and (6) it is not well-known (not everywhere is Le Precope or Café de Flore or Les Deux Magots).
Just recently I blogged about tennis-themed set up at the parvis in front of the Hôtel de Ville, but as Roland Garros moves on, the same large space undergoes a rather magical transformation into an ephemeral garden for the summer. Every year, a different garden is constructed, and this year, Anamorphosis is brought to life by François Abelanet.
Walking around the garden, each step brings forth a new perspective, a trompe-l’œil, thus a continuous source of fascination. There’s even a view point platform built, but the queue was a tad too long for me to want to join in. I may wait for another day, perhaps early in the morning or a sunnier day, to explore further.
Addendum: … or not. The garden has moved on before I have time for a second go, booo.
I briefly mentioned The Way of St James a few months ago (some 100 days apparently), when discussing motif of the medieval door at Musée Cluny. What I didn’t go into, was that Paris is the starting point of one of the French pilgrimage routes. This is marked in the past by the church of Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie and its tower, where a relic of St James was preserved. Unfortunately the church has been destroyed and all that is left today is the flamboyant Gothic tower.
Sitting near Châtelet-Les Halles, the tower most recently underwent a stint of preservation and restoration works about a couple of years ago. Atop, as you can see, is a statue of St James. As far as I know, the tower is not open for visitors to scale the heights for yet another Parisian vantage viewpoint. Instead there’s a meteorogical station housed in there? Just as well. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of space to accommodate many people up there at any one time – the queue would have been too insane.
Since I’ve been taking photos from a bus and a train this weekend, I may as well continue the trend with photo from within a flight cabin, right? We landed in Charles de Gaulle airport this evening a tad delayed following a late departure from Dublin, and on arrival, the plane started to make its way slowly towards the terminal area when we had a tarmac pause.
From my window, I could see a series of queueing planes, waiting for their take-offs. Within a few minutes, three planes set themselves soaring into the evening sky. While this is fun, it’s not quite as impressive as seeing a queue of planes waiting to land. I was once treated to such view and within the horizon, while a plane was landing, there were four others waiting for their turns. As each plane loomed larger, those following suit also increased in visible size.
If you are one of the few rich Parisians, I guess you could drive an open-top luxury car, smoke a cigar or two, and cruise around in your own good sweet time. Otherwise, you’d be like me, sitting on the bus looking out and spot how the others live ;)
My mode of transportation may not be fancy but I’m feeling great nonetheless. I’m on my way, heading out to the Beauvais airport for a quick weekend trip back to Dublin. With a schedule that can be described as bien chargé so I can see as many of my friends and family as possible, I foresee running around like a headless chicken while I’m at it. Not that I mind.
