Happy Halloween

Fais-moi peur!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, wherever you're getting your chocolates this year!

Fall Foliage

"Fall Foliage" doesn't just happen in New England.  Good to know, and even nicer to be able to see up close, even on another continent.  And, as the East Coast of the US braces for SNOW in October, I'm quite content with a bit of rain, 60 degrees, and these fabulous trees.

One Parisian's Daily List

I spotted this on the wall of a paper boutique.  I don't know if it will help sales, but perhaps that's not even the point.

Wow!  I can even do #11!  I might have to work on a few of the others, perhaps this weekend.

Gertrude Stein Lived Here

27 Rue de Fleurus, an excellent location, if I do say so myself, very close to the Luxembourg Gardens in the sixth arrondissement, is the address of the residence of Gertrude Stein in Paris for 35 years.

I had no idea, until a local from the neighborhood who's lived here for a lifetime pointed it out to me.  I've been walking/running in front of that building, probably twice a day on average, for almost a month!  And I never noticed.

This is the home within which she and her brother, Leo Stein, started and developed their collection of paintings of the painters of that era whom they befriended; and the address itself, which became known as "27," is renowned for the Saturday evening "salons" that were held there by the Steins.

As I previously posted, that collection is now on view at the Grand Palais in Paris, through January 16, 2012.

"I have lived half my life in Paris, not the half that made me but the half in which I made what I made."

- Gertrude Stein

What Every French Student and Teacher Has

 

My first school day, following class, found me at Gibert Joseph on the Boulevard Saint Michel.  This is where the teacher said to go to buy certain textbooks and school supplies with very particular specifications.

If you've ever walked around the Latin Quarter, you've certainly seen these storefronts with the  bright blue and yellow awnings, in a row one after another on the boulevard heading south from Boulevard Saint Germain.  I often wondered in passing what they were, but I never walked in.  They are large, well-stocked book and school supply stores that serve the students and teachers of the many universities in the area.

It was such a kick to buy school supplies again (for myself, that is), and after doing so for my kids for so many years at Staples, I can say with confidence that this is no Staples shopping experience.  There are so many different types of everything!  When I was searching for a lined spiral notebook, but with perforated pages AND holes punched in a certain way in order to accommodate the teacher's requirements, I had to ask for help and was directed to exactly the available alternatives - and there were many.  (Sorbonne teachers are particular, and they're not apologetic about it.)

This got me to looking at everything the store had, and to watching what the shoppers were shopping for.  And that brought me to the pen/pencil cases.  The full wall display always had someone - male and female - picking through them.  

 Interesting, I thought briefly. But then, when I attended my first phonetics class last week, the teacher walked in, placed on her desk her large bag, lifted a brightly colored pencil bag from it and plunked it down on the desk.  This she did every day, and it appeared to me that she probably did this at the start of every class she's ever taught.  

As I began to gather various writing instruments for the courses, in various colors (red, blue, brown) and types (highlighters, thin tip, pencil), plus an eraser (for obvious reasons), it was becoming clear to me that I needed one of these, too.

So there is, my bright red pencil case.  Ah, if becoming a French speaker would only be as easy as owning a French pencil case...

Sometimes It's Allowed

But mostly, it's not.  Sitting on the grass, that is.  And sometimes it's both at once, alternating sections of the lawn, so you must read first!

And when it is, there are charming little places like this one below from which you can purchase a bite to eat and drink.  It's not a New York lunch truck, but maybe a just-made crèpe with Nutella will help to make up for that loss, because you've got to take advantage of those opportunities to sit on the grass  (or one of the quite comfortable green metal chairs scattered all over) when you are permitted to do so, especially on a 64-degree Sunday in late October.

Never have I seen so many people here; I thought they must have been giving something away!

Rain rain (will NOT) go away!

In the shadow of the Pantheon in Paris resides Simon.  Simon Parapluies, that is, seller of fine umbrellas.  

In New York, I'm usually the "$5 special" purchaser, the one who finds the umbrella street vendors who sprout up from the rain - the heavier the rain, the more vendors to be found.  How long those umbrellas last is a mathematical equation I know well from years of experience; they last until the first to occur of (i) the next heavy rain/wind combo, when I'm likely going to have to plant it in a corner trash bin with its other upturned and maimed brethren, or (ii) forgetting it in the subway, bus or some other location around town.

But in New York, generally, rain can be accurately predicted and is not a daily event.  Until I spent so much consistent time in Paris, I wouldn't have understood this difference in weather patterns.  Here, it might rain in the morning, improve at noon, and fall apart again at dusk.  Or the other way around, or any number of other combinations.  And looking up at the sky is no hint.  A sunny morning can lead to rain later; a very cloudy sky all day can lead to nothing but continued clouds.  

After being caught twice, with nothing more than a light wool sweater and a heavy bag of books to walk home with, I happened to walk past Simon.

I was curious and wet, and so I stepped in to watch the two animated sales people behind the counter spend the longest time I've ever witnessed focused on the ins and outs, benefits and disadvantages of a given umbrella with a customer.  I also saw a customer breeze in and step directly up to the gentleman of the shop to thrust at him her umbrella, which was in desperate need of repair. 

Apparently, umbrella ownership is a long term investment to these people.  I was hooked.  I decided that what I needed was something very light and very small, so that I could sock it away in the depths of my handbag and have it with me at all times (and therefore hope to avoid eventuality number (ii) above).  So, when it was my turn with the saleswoman, she presented the options within their offerings with great seriousness and flair, including the how-tos of opening and closing, having me hold the open umbrellas in front of the full-length wall mirror one at a time in order to see how they "look on me" and then, finally making a choice.  

I've never spent so much time on a 30 euro purchase.  I've also never before spent 30 euros on an umbrella.  (Of course, one can get really hooked, as described in a recent article in the New York Times.  I appreciated the sentiments expressed by the writer in his piece about the layers of experiences one can encounter when in Paris over and over again in a lifetime.  I have felt that way, too.  I wonder, is it Paris, or can any place have that effect?)

Later that evening, when I got caught yet again, I had the chic new umbrella with me, et voilà, the pleasure of my stroll was saved and I wasn't soaked at dinner.