Friday pics - the sun!

Click to enlarge.

Tried to be subtle, taking this picture of scores of Japanese tourists, almost all on their phones, lined up at Galeries Lafayette to buy Chanel bags, which cost hundreds if not thousands of euros. Incomprehensible.

The opera. People singing on the square and those sitting on the steps applauding. What a building.

The Jardin du Palais Royale. Heaven for people, magnolia trees and little dogs.

Chartres

Man in the Gare Montparnasse playing honky-tonk piano.

 Impossible to capture the beauty of the windows and interior of Chartres with an iPhone

 Hope you can read it - not every day you read a sign like this. It says Henry IV was crowned here in 1594. Un peu d'histoire.

So strange with its two different towers, looming over the small town. Magnificent.

Last night - impossible as it is to believe, the noise got worse. The construction site left some sort of machine, a pump maybe, running on and off all night. Illegal, surely? Anyway, I am doing my best zen imitation. The sun is out! I'm drinking a beautiful cup of coffee and out into the day.

finding peace

Friends, I have regained mon equilibre. A few rocky days there, no question. And last night, I came back in the rain to the quiet apartment after emailing and blogging and asked myself, What the @#$# am I doing here? I spent the other night working on my Documents file, deleting all the files for the Beatles book - scores, hundreds of pages, draft after draft using just about every title of a Beatle song, so much verbiage, extremely depressing.

So the other night, after a take-out supper, I sat down to work and was paralyzed. Why go through that again? Why drag myself into another exercise in memory, through countless drafts, only to waste countless hours for seventeen readers?

Well, why write it at all? I asked myself. Who'd care? Why not just watch TV, or read the hawk book, or go back to the bar and troll the internet some more?

Because I want to tell the story, came the answer, and I'm here to tell it. So I sat down and started. Three attempts later, something came, a start. I've already got a draft, but it had problems and needed a new take. And I may have found it. It was most satisfying. Then some reading and bed, to awake for that half hour of blessed peace before the noise.

But yesterday I talked to a workman and found out the drilling is going to last 4 weeks or so, so - that's just the way it is. This morning I just put in my earplugs and went about my business, making breakfast and plans. And somehow, I didn't care.

Here are yesterday's pictures:

Jeff Koons at the Pompidou, with a dark, rainy Paris in the background

A children's wading pool full of chunks of wood. Made me laugh.

Really made me laugh - the Hulk as an organ.

 Mmmm. Which colour to choose?

La Place des Vosges, so beautiful and calm, and the sun came out briefly.

Today I went to the Gare Montparnasse and took the train to Chartres, the incredible cathedral finished in 1268, vast, towering over the small town. It's famous for its 176 stunning stained glass windows. Of course it's better to see them in the sunshine - like La Sainte Chapelle, better with light glowing through. But they were still profoundly moving and glorious. How was that massive building made? It boggles the mind. The workmanship in the sculptures and windows, the columns, the carving everywhere, a marvel. The windows were removed during both the first and the second world war and stored somewhere for safety. What a miracle they've survived this long.

Had lunch in a simple but terrific restaurant, a delicious two course meal with wine and of course basket of bread for about $27. Great ambiance, service, everything; felt hugely nourished. Got to the station just on time for the train back to Paris, to realize I'd read the wrong billboard - my train wasn't for another hour. So out into the rain, to walk around the great cathedral again.

And now drinking a dark rich hot chocolate while emailing at the cafe (internet not working very well today), then home to work. Tomorrow, when the noise starts, I won't care. I'm in Paris. Even though the weather today was worse than ever - freezing and very wet and windy - I didn't care either. C'est comme ca.

mercredi

It’s 9 a.m. Wednesday morning and the test of my character continues. I woke at 7.15 to delicious silence, a few birds, nothing, and appreciated the hell out of it, because at 8 the pounding began, and at 8.10 the drilling. They drilled all day yesterday. What can possibly demand days and days of drilling? The regular construction noise is a pleasure next to the drill. This place is great before 8 and after 5. In between, as Jon Stewart says, NOT SO MUCH.

I just have a few more days of this – the weekend will be quiet, and I’ve booked a room in a small hotel in my old neighbourhood for next week. My landlady here is going to reduce my rent, so I can afford a treat. The hotel has the internet. Being without the ‘net is an added difficulty when I’m making plans or want to check in with my real life. Or just troll. Or watch Jon Stewart.

And … it’s dark and raining. That is the real test, because if it were nice, I’d leave for a day of wandering. Nothing better than wandering in Paris. Harder to do in the rain.

So right now, I’m lying on the sofa under a blanket with earplugs in, Bach on my computer, the heat on to dry my socks, trying to decide what to do today, along with every other tourist who looked outside and said, “Shit!”

Some wise person said, stress occurs when the mind tries to reject what is. The drilling and rain is. Nothing to do but live with it. I’m warm, I have a roof, I’m not sick. I’m in the most beautiful city in the world.

Last night, I went to dinner with friends Annie and Paolo, to what she says is the best creperie in Paris, delicious – a salty one for the meal and a sweet one for dessert. It was a friendly warm room on a cold wet night. Much appreciated.

A great joy is the book “H is for Hawk” by Helen Macdonald. It’s had rave reviews, which is why I bought a hardcover, which I almost never do. Beautifully written and moving, but ye gods, these people obsessed with hawks are lunatics. Crazy people. And yet there I am, avidly learning how to train my goshawk. That’s what good writing can do.

5.15. I'm at the bistro drinking a beer and saying hello to my world - it's after 5 so I can go home now. I spoke to one of the workmen - the drilling is going to continue for a month. You can hear it for blocks. 

Out into the drizzle, saw that the closest bus went to the Pompidou Centre so decided to go there. Lined up for 20 minutes before it opened, proud to be nearly first in line, only to find out when I bought a ticket that the floor for "modern art" was closed - that is, all the Matisses, Picassos, Bonnards, Monets, the best collection in Europe - closed, only "contemporary art" was open. I have to say, I hated Paris in that moment. However, I set off to see what I could: a special exhibit on Jeff Koons, very funny but not my favourite, and a whole floor of contemporary art, people making fascinating paintings, drawings, films, sculptures and bizarre things that are a bit of everything. I'm sure some of it is terrific. But often I find that modern artists have their heads too far up their own *sses - working for other artists, perhaps, not for us. Lots of kids there, having a great time. And of course, the building is spectacular.

Wandered through the Marais, the old Jewish district, unchanged in years, had lunch and sat in the sun in the stunning Place des Vosges, went to the great Carnavalet - Museum of the City of Paris, free and packed with stuff. My guidebook said to see the archeological treasures from Roman times; that section was, of course, closed. But saw lots including Proust's cork-lined bedroom. (Pictures tomorrow - I forgot to bring the download cord to the bar.) On my way to the museum, it started to hail, and while I was inside it poured, but when I got out it was sunny again. Walked down beautiful streets full of beautiful things and houses and art and people and got the bus home. And now, a quiet evening with no drilling, a good book and my own fevered brain. Yikes. 

PS Weather forecast - rain through the weekend. This IS. 

Paris sous la pluie

 She's still there.

The tall spire is still there too. You'll be happy to know.

 And so is the whole city, a symphony of ivory and grey and brick red.

The view from my balcony of the construction site.

The view I'd rather have - a nearby oasis.

Today was a real test. The other day there was a polite little note in the elevator of the apartment, warning of impending renovations on the 4th floor, two floors above me - and sure enough, this morning, not only was the construction site next door exploding with noise, but there was drilling overhead. Amazing that I did not weep. I almost laughed instead.

But I did go out asap to wander, went to Shakespeare and Company to try to sell them my book, saw Our Lady, of course, jammed with people, walked along Boul. St. Germain, went to the top of the Tour Montparnasse for the great views - well, it was raining, which meant there was no line-up if a less than spectacular view. The rain got heavier so I went to get the metro home - only there was an abandoned package on a line somewhere and the entire metro was closed down. Chaos. I managed to find a bus and get home in the pouring rain - but the noise of drilling was infernal. Even listening to Paul McCartney on my computer did not help. So out in the rain to email and post at my favourite cafe. Just drank a divine very rich dark hot chocolate. Am going out for dinner tonight with friends. Paris is dark and cold and wet. But it's still Paris. This too shall pass.