Les Entretiens 2007
I attended a small conference for project managers yesterday. It was organized by the
Paris branch of the Project Management Institute, in a little conference space down near
Les Halles. The point for me was as much French lesson as professional development, and frankly the effort of following the speakers left me exhausted by lunch. The fellow seated next to me at lunch lapsed into English for a while, for which I was grateful, but other than that I spent the whole day trying to think in French. A week or so like yesterday would accomplish what the last year and a half of classes has failed to do.
The second speaker was a recruiter. Note his second recommendation (click on the picture to enlarge)I have gained some sympathy for the Quebec drafters of bill 101. It surprises me how much English there is in daily life here. Advertisements in magazines often use the English slogans and tag lines, with a little asterisk and the French in a footnote. English music is as common on the radio as French. And anglicisms in the language are more frequent than the odd French word we insert at home.
In professional life it's even more prevalent. Yesterday wasn't the first time I've been to presentations where the slides, produced for a general business audience, were in English while the speaker addressed them in French. Or mostly French: words like "outsourcing", "management", "reporting", "coaching", "business case", "stakeholder", and "best practices" (all heard yesterday) are not translated but have simply been adopted. And that's not even mentioning all the computer words that have no French translation. If it were my language, I'd be concerned for its future.
Once More In Our Cups
The spring
Salon des Vins, the wine show of the
independent producers, took place this weekend. We get a good number of free tickets in the mail from exhibitors from whom we've made purchases in the past. It's about half the size of the fall show, but there are still vastly too many vintners attending to visit more than a fraction. We made a lists of the Champagne and Sancerre vintners, and were unable to complete either of those lists, although we tried pretty hard on the Champagne side.
Janet negotiating at the booth of Pierlot FilsNow that we know we're moving this summer, the question is: do we go through the hassle of importing our wine cellar to the States, or just drink it all up before we leave? Since we left the show on Saturday with more wine than we could fit into our grocery
chariot, I think that question has been answered.
The male kestrel turned up yesterday morning, perched in the same window sill that the female was seen earlier. Then today they were both in the courtyard, engaging in a little spring-time antics that suggest they are thinking of trying again to start a family. But it was too fleeting a visit to suggest we might hope they'll be nesting across from our window again.
Wine Again
Lavinia had another of their special wine tastings for club members last night.
Ma pauvre Janet had a sniffle and stayed home, so I went alone. As with the
champagne tasting event, last fall, many top houses turned out to present their wares. Most of the
chateaux in attendance were
grand cru classés, and most of the wines, while not altogether out of our price range, would certainly be special occasion bottles in our modest cellar.
Halfway through the list and going... a little squiffy
Almost half of those attending seemed to be foreigners like me. I think Lavinia, being almost a wine department store (and not far from
les grand magasins), is quite visible to ex-pats, whereas French Parisians probably prefer smaller boutiques in their neighbourhood with whom they can foster a relationship. Nonetheless, it was a popular event and a bit of a crush. Squeezing by the Chateau Palmer booth I encountered a Japanese gentleman who agreed that it was a bit like the Tokyo subway, "
mais plus agréable avèc un verre!"
The kestrel turned up again this morning. I don't know if she's building a nest, but I've heard her cries a couple of times recently, and this morning she was sitting on the window sill where she nested last spring.
Farewell to Mum
I took Mum to the airport bus today. Four weeks with one's mother sounds like a lot, and to be honest we thought it might be, but if anything it was too short.
After I left her at the bus stop, I walked Southeast for a mile or so. I had to pick up a package that I left at the restaurant on Saturday night, but I walked because I don't know that area very well and after almost two years in Paris I still love to find new areas to explore. There aren't many places in any city I've lived where after this much time there are still charming and historic neighbourhoods to stumble across.
These periodic discoveries have gained poignancy since we decided to leave this summer. Janet has accepted an offer to be a VP at a prestigious company whose headquarters is in New York, so entre-les-murs will be within-the-bridges-and-tunnels come August.
Musée Marmottan
We went to the
Marmottan museum yesterday, which is mostly about Monet (and has nothing to do with alpine rodents as you might have expected). If you're into impressionists, it's an important pilgrimage. Paintings that were there when the movement was named are hung at the Marmottan.
An interesting thing about Monet is that he collected Japanese prints, an interest of his which I share. There was a special exhibition from his collection upstairs, which included a large number by Hokusai - including several from his famous "36 views of Mount Fuji" (here are
24) - and Hiroshige. Somehow the colours in Japanese prints are never as vivid as they are in reproductions - you'd think it would be the other way around - but it was marvellous to see so many excellent pieces.
A little unfortunately, it's a museum that is bucking the current trend by not only maintaining a prohibition on photography but banning the use of cell phones as well. Not altogether unsupportable, to be sure, but it meant that I couldn't get pictures.
Pomze Again
Today we went downtown to
Les Grand Magasins to do a little shopping, then stopped at
Lavinia for a wine tasting.
Chateau La Puy was showing their wares. I clearly preferred the bottle that was considered the best; so perhaps I've learned something about wine after all. Of course, it was five times the cost of the other bottles, so it's a dangerous skill to acquire.
Afterwards we took Mum to
Pomze, the apple-themed restaurant we went to for Janet's birthday last year. The
maitre d' remembered us, and could recount details of our conversation with him almost a year later. And more to the point, the meal was as excellent this time too.
Corsica
I didn't expect that a Mediterranean island could have an off-season, but the French island of Corsica must, because Janet found us seat-sale fares and even then the plane was not much more than half full. We took Mum for a long weekend, Saturday to Tuesday. We rented a car in Ajaccio and more or less circumnavigated the island.
Our first night was spent in
Bonafacio. Many of the cities of Corsica started as fortified towns, owing to centuries of European powers' tugs-of-war. Bonafacio's old town is surrounded by walls and perched atop an aerie, which overlooks a natural harbour below on the inland side and the sea approaches on the other. As a sailor, Mum thought the place heavenly. Without what I gather is usually a horde of tourists, it was also a fairly quiet town but then there was much less open to see and do than would normally be the case. We did manage to find a wonderful meal in a grotto of a restaurant (the only one open, we were informed).
The town of Pruno, which we had to pass through to reach its suburb of San Gavino d'AmpugnaniThe next day we drove North to a tiny town (called San Gavino d'Ampugnani) where friends have a house that they were kind enough to lend us. The keys were provided by the mayor of the town (which is maybe 15-20 houses). It was a 300-year-old stone house of three stories, well appointed for the most part, but in the midst of renovation and decoration so there was little actual furniture. We lit a fire in the fireplace and made ourselves a nice meal; and in the morning found smoke coming up through cracks in the hearth. I managed to open the
cave below and discovered that in fact the floorboards were on fire. Long story short: fire was doused, our hostess was called, the mayor promised to keep an eye on the place, and we tidied up and made our way off on tiny passenger-ennervating roads through the centre of the island.
We passed ski hills to reach our destination, although I have my doubts about the quality of the skiing. With not a speck of snow in early March, how good can it be even in January? But the mountains, the gorges and the pigs on the winding roads made for a scenic and challenging drive. Our final night was in a mountain village called Evisa. The swimming pool was an unhealthy green colour, and the flowers were plastic, but the hospitality was warm and they had a parrot in the dining room.
We spent half of our final day back in
Ajaccio, birthplace of Napoleon. We spent some time at the Musée Flesch, the enjoyment of which suffered somewhat from our recent trip to the Louvre: the paintings were not nearly as high quality, but I did find some good dogs for J. The museum is adjoined by a chapel containing some impressive
trompe l'oeil and the Napolean family crypt.
In a month or so the trees get their leaves and the hill sides bloom, and the tourists return. It was stunningly as it was; it must be truly spectacular in season. But I'm just as happy to have missed the crowds.
Late to the Louvre
The Louvre is open late on Wednesdays and Fridays. Mum and I spent a couple of hours yesterday evening with the French painters. I had a marvellous picture with her in the Richelieu passage, with the glass pyramid in the background; but unfortunately they don't seem to make tripods for telephones and I couldn't hold it sufficiently still for the light conditions.
I did take a bunch of dog pictures for my friend J, as is my habit. Dogs mostly appear under banquet tables, in ladies' portraits, sometimes hunting, and - for some reason - under the bed in deathbed scenes.
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This painting by
Chardin is one of the few in which a dog appears as a central subject
End of Mum's Side Trip
Mum spent a few days in the UK, visiting rellies. She came and went on the TGV, through the chunnel (which I have yet to do although I'd like to; it's usually cheaper to fly, but it's much simpler to take the train). I picked her up at the Gare du Nord last night.
New Favourite Restaurant
We went out for dinner last night to a restaurant that Janet spotted in one of our books, called
Le Vin dans les Voiles (
Cityvox,
EatInParis). It's fairly nearby, but on a side street off Exelmans (near the bridge where it crosses the Seine) so we wouldn't normally even walk by it. From the outside there's not much to notice either; and inside is nice but unremarkable (except for the upholstered walls).
Wine is the focus, and there seems to be a constantly changing selection. A blackboard listed the "
Vins du moment". We asked the
maitre d' for recommendations, and, unusually for a Frenchman, he offered us non-French wine, in this case a Chilean. We chatted with him on the subject (haltingly - we seem to be losing our French rather than improving it) and he argued that it would be better for the domestic wine industry if the French were more open to overseas wine. A very rational point of view but somehow surprising to hear from a French restauranteur.
The food was excellent too, and I almost dissolved in ecstacy over the
foie gras. I feel sorry for the geese, but it's really worth it.
The second speaker was a recruiter. Note his second recommendation (click on the picture to enlarge)
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