Winding down

What a great place to work on textbooks!  Yesterday, we went to the library to return books and to get our deposit back.  A trip to the library is a mundane errand, but when it involves walking across the Champ de Mars, by the iconic Eiffel Tower, and along quintessentially Parisian avenues, boulevards, and streets, it isn't quite so mundane.

A kilim and a Beluch bag face on display on the Avenue de Suffren.

This year, we needed the American Library in Paris and its resources.  We learned that it has a superb American literature collection, as its name implies.  We also learned that it is a somewhat warm and stuffy building; after the hike from the apartment, it takes a while for me to cool down at the library.  The climate control there perhaps operates on a humidistat.

The American Library has all the latest technology for cataloging, checking out, returning, and searching for books.  It is not for morning people; the doors don't open until 1PM, and they close at 7PM.  The staff does answer the phone before 1PM, however.  The staff members are kind and helpful.  We thank them!

Yesterday's visit to the library will be our last for this summer.  So the staff returned our 60-euro deposit that enabled us to borrow books.  Next year, when we return, we will re-up our membership for four months. 

Tajerrashti, an impressive oriental rug store on the Avenue de Suffren.
We spent a while looking into this shop's window because of some impressive carpets on display.
There  is an embargo against Persian rugs now, so we didn't tempt ourselves by going inside.
However, there are some great rugs from Afghanistan (like the Beluch
bag face on the wooden horse) and Turkey at this shop, and it is
the kind of place that does restoration work and cleaning of rugs.  The shop also
buys good rugs and carpets.

After the library errand, we had refreshments once again at Le Relais de la Tour on the Avenue de la Bourdonnais.  Where we sat at a high-top in the front corner, the window was open so that the berets and refrigerator magnets on display in front of the souvenir shop next door were inches away from Tom's shoulder.  I especially admired the laminated Mona Lisa placemats just to the right of my knee.

We had the same convivial server as before.  He brought Tom a warm piece of apple pie and a hot espresso, and to me he served a glass of chardonnay. 

As we were finishing our refreshments, I watched a middle-aged American tourist make all the mistakes she should not make in Paris:  she did not say bonjour or hello, she just launched into her order to the server, without even a smile!  And she did so in English, without even attempting one word in French.  She did not say please or s'il vous plait when she ordered.  She did not say thank you or merci when her order arrived.  I just cringed.  I cringed.

Evening sky as seen from our kitchen window.

We sauntered home at the warmest part of the day, when the temperature reached 72 F and the sun blazed.  What a lovely Autumn day!

We dined simply at home, enjoying the view from the balcony, and talking about plans for next summer.

Along the avenues on a long summer day

The École Militaire (Military School, or war college) was pockmarked with old bullet wounds and plagued by rotting window frames when we first started summering in Paris (1998).  The grounds were tattered patches of weeds, even though somebody evidently cared for the red rose bushes in front of the complex's façade along the Avenue de la Motte Picquet.

I was perplexed by this state of decay in what is clearly a historically important compound.

The top of the main entryway to the École Militaire.

Then several years ago, the work began.  The interior courtyard and façades, which you can see from the Avenue de Lowendal, were the first to be restored.  Then the fence was made to shine again.

In the past few years, the southwest part of the main structure has been enveloped in scaffolding while it underwent a rebirth.

The main entryway to the École Militaire, on the Avenue de la Motte Picquet.

Then the grand main entrance on the Avenue de la Motte Picquet was shrouded and restored.

Now, finally, all that scaffolding has been removed from that southwest portion and the northeast part of the main structure is now engulfed in new scaffolding.

The main entrance caught my eye yesterday.  It is positively gleaming.  I especially admire the handsome doors.

The main entryway doors to the École Militaire.

Maybe in just a few more years, the entire École Militaire will be perfect, and it will rise to its challenge as the other anchor, opposite the majestic Eiffel Tower, on an end of the Champ de Mars.

We went walking earlier in the afternoon than we expected.  We'd been working hard, and then Tom received the sad news about the death of one of his closest friends, Chris.  While we knew Chris was seriously ill, we did not expect the end to be so near.  The world will miss this wonderfully smart, gentle, and kind man.

Work was then abandoned.   We walked out into the sunshine for comfort.  I could sense the grace of God in this beautiful day.

We strolled along the Avenue de Suffren and the Avenue de Ségur, littered with sparkling dots of sun amid lacy shadows from the tree canopy overhead.  The streets were calm and uncrowded.  We passed by a couple of favorite restaurants.

I've always liked the jolly face carved above the doorway on this apartment building on the Avenue de Suffren. 
The European Space Agency is in the background on the left of this photo. 
The scooter and bike are rentals that you can just scan, using an app on your phone, and then you can go.
These things are everywhere now.  The scooters go dangerously fast, and the folks on them generally do not wear helmets!

Then, up ahead on the Avenue de Ségur, we could see lots of police and police vehicles.  When we were closer, I could see that the police were wearing heavy protective vests.  Then we heard demonstrators chanting as they marched up the Avenue Dusquesne or Avenue Breteuil.  The police had the roads leading to the École Militaire and Les Invalides totally barricaded.

I told Tom that I wanted to turn around and go back the other way, away from this confrontation that was about to happen.  But Tom wanted to wait and see what was going on.  We hesitated long enough to see the head of the demonstrators' parade.  The banners clearly marked the group as members of the national trade union group, the CGT (Confédération générale du travail).  It is one of the top two labor union organizations in France, with a little over 700,000 members.

We did turn back before any confrontation could occur.  "That's how you live a long life," I explained to Tom while insisting that we leave.  When I see police in riot gear, I do not want to be there.

So we walked around to the Avenue de Lowendal and up to our favorite brasserie, La Terrasse.  There we had our afternoon tea (actually, sparkling water for both, espresso for Tom, glass of wine for me, and ice cream for Tom).  I just love that place because it is elegant and comfortable at the same time, and it is dependably good.  We feel welcome there.

When we were totally relaxed, we walked back to the apartment.  A couple hours later, we emerged to walk to dinner at Madame Claude, just off the Avenue de la Motte Picquet.

Dinner was delightful, beginning with a lobster salad that we shared (photo below).  It was a surprising mix of veggies like peas and sprouts, with a generous appetizer portion of fresh lobster.

Tom's sautéed veal with sticky rice and my chicken with morel mushroom sauce and puréed potatoes were excellent.  With the 40 percent discount from Lafourchette.com, the price was acceptable; it would have been pricey for what it was, without that discount.

Sautéed veal

Chicken with morel mushroom sauce and potato purée.

Dessert was a chocolate and fruit concoction, which we shared.

This would not have been a good place to go in a heat wave, but on a delightful evening like yesterday's, it was comfortable enough.

Back at the apartment, we enjoyed sitting on the balcony for the first time this year.  We have a small but mighty marble and iron bistro table out there, along with a couple metal ice-cream-parlor-like chairs.  Sit on one side of the table and you can watch the sunset over and in between the towers of the Front de Seine.  Sit on the other side, and you see the warm sunset glow bathe the apartment buildings and the old theater building on our block.

Not a bad way to end of one these lovely, long summer days in Paris.

Who wouldn't want to be in Paris if being home wasn't possible?

August 26, 2016 -- Ann Hildago, the mayor of Paris, got her start in politics here in the 15^th arrondissement.  She’s a liberal, and the 15^th arrondissement is generally more conservative than she is.  Nevertheless, she has proven to be a good administrator, and so she was elected to replace longtime mayor, Bertrand Delanoe, when he retired in 2014.

Shoppers in the rue de Furstemberg.

She is an immigrant, born in Andalusia, Spain, in 1959.  Now as mayor, she is determined to build two refugee camps in Paris.  She says it is not possible to “sit idly by while the Mediterranean becomes a graveyard for refugees.”  The number of refugees in France is expected to grow to 30,000 in 2017.

I have seen coverage of this new refugee camp story in British news media outlets, but I haven’t seen any in American publications so far.  So I share this with you.

Construction of the camps has started, but the exact locations have not been disclosed because the City wants to avoid violent protests.

One of the camps will be somewhere in the densely populated northeast part of the city – where many refugees are already camping.  The other camp will be south of the city – perhaps not far from the 15^th arrondissement.  One camp is for single men; the other is for women and children. These camps will have modular shelters for up to 1,000 people, and will conform to United Nations standards.  They are scheduled to open sometime in September.

Rilletes of trout with toast, a mis en bouche at Stephane Martin

Meanwhile, there is a large makeshift camp in the Jardin d’Eole, north of the Gare du Nord and Gare de l’Est train stations, on the edge of the 18^th and 19^th arrondissements.

French police have broken up makeshift camps in the capital more than two dozen times this year.  They take the campers to local shelters, but these shelters are only for short-term stays.  Soon, the refugees are back out on the streets, looking for a place to camp for the night.

Most of the refugees here in Paris are from Sudan, Eritrea, and Afghanistan.  Paris and Calais are the main destinations for migrants in France.  In Calais, they seek a way to cross the channel and enter Great Britain.

Charities and individuals in France are also being encouraged to take in refugees.  Many are doing so.

Back in the spring, Mayor Hildago angered wealthy residents of the 16^th arrondissement by announcing a plan for an “emergency accommodation center” for homeless and migrants in that arrondissement’s Bois de Boulogne (a huge park).

Also in the Spring, ten restaurants in Paris opened their kitchens to refugee chefs from Syria and other countries.  They cooked from June 17 to 21, for what was called the Refugee Food Festival.

Yesterday evening, we took shelter from the extreme heat at the Restaurant Stephane Martin – an honestly and truly air conditioned place on the rue des Entrepreneurs.  We thoroughly appreciated an elegant dinner of bass filet and eggplant for me, and veal and mushrooms for Tom.  Tom also had a lovely apple tart for dessert, and I had a rich little fondant of dark chocolate imported from Tanzania.

Bass filet with thin slices of grilled eggplant

We were surprised when we entered the place to be greeted by Steven, the server who used to run the dining room at l’Alchimie until three years ago.  We had a lively conversation with him – especially because we were the only diners in the restaurant!  The heat must be causing people to stay home.

I took my long walk in the early morning again today, to avoid the heat.  This time, my route included the avenues de Suffren and de la Bourdonnais.  Seeing the brasseries set up their rows of little round tables and chairs in the morning is fun.  I also enjoy seeing the delivery trucks supplying wonderful ingredients for the days’ meals in various eating establishments along these commercial ways.

Roasted veal and button mushooms cooked in butter

I generally take very few photographs when I’m out walking alone in the morning.  For security reasons, it is better to look like a Parisian who knows where she’s going rather than a vulnerable tourist pausing to photograph the wonderful sights.  I’m just being extra cautious; the streets of the 7^th arrondissement, where I walk in the mornings, seem to be extremely safe, as are most streets of the 15^th.  (Actually, a violent crime rate map that I recently saw indicates that the 15^th is even safer than the 7^th.)  

One commentator on TripAdvisor states that, “The violent crime rate in Paris is a fraction of the rate of any US city.”

Apple tart at the Restaurant Stephane Martin

According to this interesting U.S. State Department report, pickpocketing is the only main concern, and that is particularly around tourist attractions – and, I would add, on line 4 of the metro.  Read that State Department report if you want to know more.

Toward the end of my walk, I sat in the Place du Commerce to cool off and admire the flower beds before going home to water the flowers on the balcony.  I remembered that yesterday evening, as we walked home from Stephane Martin, we saw a sign at one end of the park, announcing a regular boules tournament there -- the Boulodrome!  

Moelleux au chocolat made with dark chocolate from Tanzania

To accommodate enthusiastic boules players, a high temporary wire fence has been constructed on either side of that far end of the park.  This is to prevent them from hitting passersby in the head with their boules.

That would be an ignominious way to go:  "Tourist killed by errant boule in Paris park."

For those of you who are not familiar with this game, according to Wikipedia,  "Boules (French pronunciation: ​[bul]) is a collective name for a wide range of games in which the objective is to throw or roll heavy balls (called boules in France, and bocce in Italy) as close as possible to a small target ball."

Even though the evening air was stifling hot, dedicated players were out in the park, throwing and rolling their boules.

Laissez les bon temps rouler . . . .