Sirens won't save us from litter

Keeping up on the news back in Florida, I read with keen interest about an environmental group that dumped a massive amount of plastic garbage on the front steps of the state capitol building in Tallahassee.  The day before, Tom pointed out this poster to me on the Avenue Emile Zola:

"The Sirens don't exist.  The trash cans, yes."  

"Marine litter has most often been thrown on the ground."

"Litter is for the garbage can."

The sources of that disgusting (and deadly, for sea life) plastic garbage floating out at sea are litterbugs all over the world.

This cleverly created poster is part of a campaign by Clean Gestures, a project of a French nonprofit organization called Progress and Environment, founded in 1971.  I found this interesting tidbit on the Clean Gestures web site:  "Clean Gestures estimates about 520,000 tonnes of litter was discarded in 2018 in France, the equivalent of 52 Eiffel Towers."

Passing by the St. Louis church at Les Invalides
on the way to dinner.

Inexplicably, the Florida legislature has blocked attempts to ban or control single-use plastics.  The legislators initially left a loophole in their preemptive law, leaving plastic straws free to be banned.  And so a few cities in the state did ban plastic straws.  This year, the legislature attempted to put a moratorium on the enforcement of these local plastic straw bans, but the governor vetoed that attempt.  This battle will rage on.

In the European Union, officials are banning some single-use plastics, including disposable cutlery, plates and straws, in an effort to reduce the rate of marine pollution.  In 2016, France became the first country in the world to ban disposable plastic cutlery and dishes.

Still, that leaves all the pollution that is already afloat out there, causing problems for marine life.  A group of 18 nations (France and the U.S. included) has come together in the Marine Litter Solutions project to work on this global catastrophe.  If humans don't fix this problem, there will soon be more plastic than fish in the ocean.

When you dine out in Paris, you do not see plastic straws.  We almost never have seen them used in restaurants or cafés in the 22 summers we've been here.  Plastic straws truly are unnecessary, except for people with some disability that affects their ability to drink from cups or glasses.  For them, there are re-usable straws.

Sitting in the indoor/outdoor area at Restaurant Felix.

For people who insist on using disposable straws, a Vietnamese company is now making them out of grass.  Reportedly, the grass straws do not get as soggy as paper straws do.

We did not see any straws last night, of course, when we dined at Restaurant Felix on the Avenue de Ségur.  We always order a big bottle of sparkling water to share at dinner.  The water is cold when it is brought to the table.  Glasses are provided, of course, but generally we are not given any ice unless we ask for it.  Straws?  No.  I wonder if straws are even available at most restaurants in Paris.

We shared a refreshing and flavorful beet salad as a starter course.  Then Tom had a bass filet again, with spinach and finely chopped veggies and tabbouleh.  I ordered the skate, with capers in a lemon-butter sauce, served with a big pile of spinach.  I always wonder why skate isn't served more often in Florida restaurants.  It is so fine!

Sea bass (above) and skate (below) make a fine seafood and veggies dinner
at Restaurant Felix.

We shared a café gourmand and pain perdu for dessert.  I hope yesterday's four miles of walking burned some of those calories.

When we left the restaurant at 9PM, we were surprised to see that we were the only diners there for the evening.  Perhaps somebody walked through the door after 9, but by 10PM, the dinner hour is coming to an end in France.  Not so in Italy and Spain, but definitely in France.

Days are shorter now.  We sat on the apartment's balcony for a half hour, watching the dying light and enjoying the cool breeze.  Let August begin.

Scenes below from the garden at UNESCO.

For the people

The simplicity and starkness of the church of Saint-Jaques-du-Haut-Pas is striking, especially after you've visited many churches throughout Paris.  The two main reasons for its plainness are the poverty of its original parishioners and the presence of the Jansenist movement in its early history.

The organ at the Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas church.  Tom found this part
of the church's floor, a dark wood herringbone, to be very interesting.

The parishoners wanted a more Gothic-style church (like that of the other Saint Jacques' church, Saint-Jacques-de-la-Boucherie, of which only the bell tower remains -- the well-known Tour Saint Jacques), but they could not afford it.  Because of the difficulty in raising funds in the impoverished parish, the church of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas took a long time to build. 

Inside the church of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas.

The Catholic church heirarchy wasn't terribly supportive of the poor folk in this area.  When they didn't even have a parish yet, they'd taken to praying in the Benedictine monastery located there.  The monks felt inconvenienced by this imposition, and so demanded that these common people leave.  So in 1582 the bishop gave permission for a small church to be built on the site at what is now the rue St. Jacques and the Rue de l'Abbé de l'Epée.

The congregation quickly outgrew the small church, so Parliament created a new parish there in 1633.  Then the decision was made to name the new church for Saint Jacques Le Mineur, the other Saint Jacques (or Saint James in English).  The church is also dedicated to Philip the Apostle.

The nearby abbey of Port Royal was the home of the Jansenist movement.  When the Jansenists installed an annex near the site of the Saint Jacques church, their influence was felt. Wikipedia says that Jansenism "was a Catholic theological movement, primarily in France, that emphasized original sin, human depravity, the necessity of divine grace, and predestination." Jesuits didn't like Jansenists, and accused them of being like Calvinists.  I can see that, but I don't think Calvinists are all that bad.

Finally, Anne Genevieve de Bourbon, who was a protector of the Port Royal abbey stepped up and offered significant funds to construct the church.  The main work was finally completed by 1685, thirty-two years after Parliament created the parish.

The Rue Mouffetard, in the 5th arrondissement.

Jean-Denis Cochin was the priest at Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas from 1756 to 1780.  He was mainly occupied, throughout his life, with helping disadvantaged people.  He founded a hospital for them nearby; it was named Hôpital Saint-Jacques-Saint-Philippe-du-Haut-Pas initially, and it treated poor workers who were injured in nearby rock quarries.  Later, it was named for Father Cochin.  Today, Hôpital Cochin is a major public assistance hospital, and home to the system's central burn treatment center.  Since 1990, it has also been a biomedical research center, specializing in genetics as well as molecular and cellular biology.

In the late 12th century, before the Benedictines were installed at the site of what is now the Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas church, that land was owned by the Order of Hospitallers, a medieval Catholic military order which was headquartered in Jerusalem.  I find it odd to think that the Catholic church had military orders, but those were the days of the Crusades. 

The Hospitallers' main job was to care for the poor, sick, and injured people who made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem.  They originated in Italy, in a place called Altopascio, hence the name Haut Pas.  They built a small chapel on this site in 1360, but Pope Pius II suppressed their order in 1459.  That's what left the land open to the Benedictines in the 1500s. 

Isn't it interesting that the site's early development was dedicated to helping the poor and that was reinstated with the departure of the Benedictines and the arrival of the parish of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas?

***

The church of St. Médard, at the southern end of Rue Mouffetard.

Our long walk began with a subway ride to the Place Maubert and a walk down the rue Montagne de Sainte Genevieve, a humble and non-gentrified spot in the 5th arrondissement.  Then we continued down the rue Descartes and rue Mouffetard, which some people claim is the oldest street in Paris.  But I think, how can that be, because it was outside of Paris when it was built?

Details.  The pedestrianized Rue Mouffetard is charming as can be, with its cobbled surface, colorful shops, and quaintness galore.  At the end of it, we visited the St. Médard church briefly.  After admiring the flowing fountain near the church, we continued westward.

Lovely scarlet and gray leash for a cat, for sale on rue Vavin.

On the Rue des Feuillantines, we paused to see that the City of Paris has a technical school there for glass artisans, including people who make verrieres -- these glass-and-metal structures and awnings that we admire so much.  This was also the site of the Barbet school, which was attended by Louis Pasteur from 1838 to 1843.  Earlier, Victor Hugo spent part of his childhood here on this street named for the convent of the Feuillantines.

After we visited the church of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas, we walked along the southern edge of the Luxembourg gardens and skirted over toward the Boulevard Montparnasse on the colorful rue Vavin.  Right in front of us was one of our favorite brasseries, Le Select, so we stopped for refreshments.

Refreshments at Le Select, on the Boulevard Montparnasse.

After a good, long pause, we continued down the boulevard to the Rue de Sevres, back into the 15th arrondissement.  We paused again to rest on a bench in front of the future home of the left bank Hilton Hotel.  The main building it will occupy is the former centrale téléphonique from 1900 (renovated in the 1930s) on the Avenue de Saxe.  When it was established in 1900, it was one of seven centraux téléphoniques in the city's "new" telephone network.  Some of today's phone network's apparatus is still in the structure, and it will remain there when the Hilton opens.

The former centrale téléphonique on the Avenue de Saxe is scheduled to open
as the new left-bank Hilton Hotel in 2019.

We meandered over through the Boulevard Breteuil and Place Georges Mulot neighborhood to the Avenue de Suffren, where I spotted a small apartment that I'd seen listed for sale, next to the Hotel Bailli.  It looks nice, but would be noisy since it faces the sidewalk on the street level.

Restaurant Félix, on the Avenue de Segur, in the 15th arrondissement.

At last, it was time for dinner at Félix, on the Avenue de Segur, where we dined on July 16.  I promised myself then that I'd try the razor clam starter course, which I did.  It was excellent, even though one of the clams had some gritty sand in it.  That's probably the supplier's fault, not the restaurant's. 

Razor clams starter course at Félix.

We each selected the delicious filet mignon de porc for our main course, and we finished with a café gourmand (includes three small desserts) for Tom and creme brulée for me.  The creme brulée was divine.  The evening was lovely.  By the time we walked home, we'd logged 8 miles and lots of memories for the day.

Filet mignon de porc, above, and assorted small desserts, below.

Dinner and a Parrot

July 17, 2018 -- Tom and I were ready to eat well yesterday evening.  I had perused the ratings of restaurants in lafourchette.com, and discovered a place within walking distance that had fine reviews, and lots of them.  The location, on one of the leafy avenues of the 7th arrondissement near UNESCO, appeals to us -- especially if we take the scenic route to go there.

Filet de dorade royale at Restaurant Félix.

However, when we left the apartment, we were in a bit of a hurry to meet our reservation time because work at the computers had delayed us longer than it should have.  We didn't hurry too much because of the summer heat, but we moved efficiently along the less scenic, more direct route to Avenue Segur.  Still, we made it to Restaurant Félix at 79 Avenue de Segur right on time.  We were the only English speakers there (but of course we spoke French).

The place is named for its chef, Félix Michau.  He trained at fine restaurants in France and Scotland, and then opened this place of his own in 2016.  His philosophy is to offer only the freshest, seasonal products, prepared "without arrogance," emphasizing quality above all else.  As a result, the menu changes so frequently that it is simply printed on a page that is then placed on a clipboard -- no vinyl covers at Restaurant Félix!

We did not order any starters, but instead focused on a bottle of cold sparkling water to begin the repast.  The bread that soon arrived was of that delicious dark sourdough variety, with a crunchy crust.  Nice.

Filet mignon de cochon at Restaurant Felix.

Tom had a filet mignon de cochon (pork) that came with a rich, creamy sauce and delicious wild mushrooms.  My filet of dorade royale (golden sea bream) sat upon a small pile of perfectly cooked fresh spinach, and was topped by a colorful mix of finely chopped vegetables and capers

The evening was very warm, but the restaurant was completely open in front.  Still, the dining room could have benefited from a fan.  Tom decided to have ice cream for dessert.  True to the chef's philosophy, it was top-quality ice cream.  I had a little scoop of it inside a profiterole that was covered in very dark, rich chocolate sauce -- like the sauce we used to get at Le Pario.

Bravo, Chef Félix Michau!  We shall return.  I must try the razor clams next time.

The profiterole with rich, dark chocolate sauce at Restaurant Félix.

After dinner, we walked slowly up the Avenue de Segur and the Avenue de Suffren to the Champ de Mars, catching a soft evening view of the Eiffel Tower just before sunset.

We enjoyed serene views in the Champ de Mars, just as I had done in the morning.

Yesterday's lovely evening view of the Eiffel Tower, from the
Champ de Mars.

One of the unusual sightings I made in the morning on the Champ de Mars was a parrot.  That's right, a bright green, full size parrot!  Research tells me that these are rose-necked parakeets from Africa.  I thought parakeets were smaller, but the one I saw was really parrot-sized.  Evidently, they were introduced to the Paris region as escapees at the Orly airport.  Now they have become an invasive species and are disrupting native bird populations.

I made a mental note of the sound of the parrot's cry, so that I might listen for it as I walk through the Champ de Mars.  The apple-green bird was very hard to see when it was sitting in the green foliage of a tree.  One reason I saw it was that I happened to be staring up at a space between trees when the parrot flew there.

Another reason I spotted the bird was that I was making myself sit still for a half hour on a park bench yesterday morning.  As all bird watchers know, it is amazing what you can see if you simply sit still and remain observant for 30 minutes or more.

So I will try to pause more, to soak it all in.