Observations and not very high ku from the streets of Paris
3. Dans les rues de Paris
3.1) I love Paris . . . in sub-zero
Ah, the opposite
of tropics: snow flaking
like dessicated
coconut.
Constant Gardener and I were scurrying to the Galeries Lafeyette to do a spot of shopping, when we started seeing spots: a sudden, exquisite snow shower. The toasty Galeries is vast, a Louvre for clothing. Loooking up the atrium in the ladies’ wing, we admired the glorious dome of Belle Epoque glasswork. It’s not the Louvre, it’s a cathedral, for Notre dames. And imagine if it was a gigantic snowdome. I have:
3.2)The streets of Paris
So how can you tell me you’re lonely,
and say for you that the sun don’t shine,
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I’ll show you something to make you change your mind.
I’ve always found Ralph McTell’s song patronising, its pity faintly smug; still, it’s unforgettably a classic, hitting its mark with unsubtle force. But as he has confessed, it was inspired by les rues de Paris.
In this weather there are not many homeless around; we’ve seen a dozen or so — there was one in rue Buci on a bustling sunny Sunday, getting in everyone’s face and and gibbering in lingo.
The one who was absent, a metre pile of material marking hisher bed. A Cartesian display of a wheelie case, boxes and a check laundry bag was snugly fitted into the niche in the wall above.
The one with a mattress on the sidewalk, its bottom lined with a cardboard box, two corners and a flat end serving as a bed head. Apart from exposed pantlegs, the recumbent was smothered under a single thin blanket. The bundle was shivering.
The fella lying in the sunshine over a pavement grate.
One night we saw a figure sitting on some steps, legs swathed in blankets, torso bulbous in a puffer jacket so that he looked like a Michelin Man down on his luck, treads gone full bald; the only protusion from the tubular fiolds was the promontory of his grand gallic nose. Flapping above him two large banners advertised an Andy Warhol exhibition within: “Making Money Is Art.” If true, the poor man wasn’t even a Sunday painter.
3.3) Hot cop
Lost in the freezing twilight, map and iCompass offering no succour, arguing about directions, I finally approached a young cop standing at the corner.
– Excuse moi, sil vous plait, parlez vous anglais.
– Ay, non, désolé, la-yada, le-yada, ya da da da…
Evidently fresh from the provinces because he didn’t comprendre l’anglais, a rare condition in the centre; and he couldn’t point us to the Seine; ie north. In fact, as we discovered, he sent us in the opposite direction.
Of course, the reason he had been at the corner all that time was to stand over the pavement grating which was issuing great gouts of hot air; the city’s extravagant ducted heating.
3.4) Paris, 2001
“Unrelenting elegance” — Constant Gardener’s pinpoint description of the Paris streetscape is predicated on the French rage for order — the consistency of the quality in design and construction (beautiful, excellent) and height, buildings in agreement at 5 or 7 or 9 stories high for the length of a street. A consistency almost an affront to an Anglocultural — British eccentricity, American individualism, Australian perversity et al. Which is why, one grey afternoon, crossing rue de Rennes I was startled to see a giant grey shaft on the horizon at the vanishing point. Seeing that, like a manifestation of the monolith from 2001, made me believe for a moment.
When the Montparnasse Tower — the only skyscraping competition to the Eiffel — was built, it resulted in a ban on future skyscrapers in the city centre; its serene isolation is assured. The Eiffel is a friendly marker in comparison; we saw it from across the Seine one night — for ten minutes every hour it goes into a random fury of flashing lights — a chaotic frenzy that made me think of an epileptic seizure.
5 Comments
Incidentally I think it was instructive that Paris has abandoned the NY fireworks extravaganza.
3.1 “Galeries Layfayette for a spot of shopping”. Hmmph.. GL is mostly tourist territory. We real Parisians go to BHV or Le Bon Marche (the only Leftbank department store).
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3.2 “…In this weather there are not many homeless around;”
In really cold weather they allow the clochard to sleep overnight in the Metro.
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3.3 “In fact, as we discovered, he sent us in the opposite direction.”
You are obviously a novice traveller. One of the first rules of travel is “don’t ask the locals!” Either they are not familiar with what you want or don’t understand, but are too embarrassed as locals to admit it; or in the developing world they are illiterate when it comes to maps. You must always look for another traveller–which usually means an easily identifiable backpacker. However, you really couldn’t find the Seine in Paris? Put your dunce cap on and go stand in the corner! Quite apart from the basic dumbererness of that admission, you compounded it with not realizing that anytime you need to orient yourself you head to either a Metro (with their very good map of the quartier) or ditto the bus shelter maps.
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3.4 “Unrelenting elegance”. Yes indeed. The old joke, originally applied to the Eiffel and then transferred to the Montparnasse, goes: Q: what is the sole benefit of going to the expensive restaurant at the top of the Montparnasse tower? A: It is the only spot where you cannot see the Tour Montparnasse.
The thing is I do not know (because I have not managed to read my several books on Haussman) is whether it was planned/mandated or just a happy accident of engineering at the time (the height limit being a mix of construction issues and human ease of walking up steps etc). One might have imagined it to have led to unrelenting tedium yet it has led to the astounding elegance you write of. Your picture also shows why Paris was correct in banning any hi-rise (above 31 floors–see all the apartment towers in the redeveloped 13th arr. some of which are now showing their age; also note that for the past 20 years they no longer build those medium-hi-rise in new redevelopments, eg. around the east side of the 13th–near Bibliotheque Mitterand). Redevelopment of brownfield sites in Australia (eg. Melbourne Docklands) should have learnt the lesson. Not only does it achieve the highest residential density in the Western world (you have to go to places like HK to surpass central Paris’ density) but not coincidentally it creates a terrific urban environment, instead of the arid desert of Docklands with its vast, windy, under-utilized, pedestrian-unfriendly spaces between hi-rise.
In fact the most desirable parts of some of the most desirable cities followed the Parisian pattern (again perhaps partly by accident of the times) such as Upper West Side, Soho, Greenwich Village of NYC, the Eixample of Barcelona etc. Alas, as I wrote in Crikey a few years ago, in Australia even sensible people like Bob Carr seem to see only two possible diametric opposites of town planning/human habitation: exurban sprawl versus “inhuman” hi-rise.
(I get very long winded on this topic.)
“the French rage for order — the consistency of the quality in design and construction (beautiful, excellent) and height, buildings in agreement at 5 or 7 or 9 stories high for the length of a street. A consistency almost an affront to an Anglocultural — British eccentricity, American individualism, Australian perversity”
The Anglo thing is really pure laissez faire capitalism, though in Australia it is pure ignorance. At a meeting with local city planners here in Brisbane (yes I know, what was I thinking) concerning redevelopment of some inner city brownfield sites (Newstead River Park; Bowen Hills, West End) I brought this issue up and asked if there was a mandated minimum height (since it is exceptionally short sighted to build lower than those 6-8 floors) I got a stupified look. No, of course not! Thus, why our Anglo cities are plug-ugly dog-breakfasts. Other cities on the Paris model, in addition to those above (and incidentally the NYC apartment houses of late 19th and early 20th century were explicitly modelled on Paris) would include Buenos Aires, Cairo/Alexandria, old Shanghai (the French quarter being far superior to anything else which is why it is mostly the only old part not totally flattened). Some of these examples (particularly BA & NYC) show that there was no reason why our (20th century) cities could not have been planned to be much better.
Dear Michael,
Thanks for your rich and complete responses. Pardon the delay getting back, we’ve been busy.
You’ve made me consider or re-consider some points:
3.1) Non, non! We had a great time at Gal Lafeyette. You see, it’s SOLDES time, and the prices drop, as you know, with every week it’s on. So I got a great bargain with some Bally shoes, which seemed the epicentre of a frenzy of Asian shoppers. The moment I tried on my pair of textured brogues (hard to describe) a couple of folk immediately focussed on them and wanted a pair too.
And their enormous Maison wing across the street is totally classy — far fresher and more stylish stuff than DJs or Grace Bros ever stock. We picked up stacks of house gifts there.
3.2) We haven’t been in the underground late enough to see if the clochard are there; certainly not before 11:30pm. But where do they go during the freezing day? Apart from sitting above the grates where the hot air from the metro lines come up.
3.3) Au contraire! The most useful or engaging or entertaining things come from talking to locals, even yokels. A smile and goodwill seems to take one a long way. They take pity. or an interest in you and tell you stuff you’ll never find in a guide book; like where to eat (in the Marais, at Le Dome Marais) and what the name for the Louvre wifi is (padre pio). ANd I consider myself as part of the industry they want to look after — I’m not a traveller, I’m a tourist, a turismo. I’m in their care.
3.4) Of course Paris is rather more relentingly elegant outside the well-heeled, touristic centre. The surrounds of say, the wonderfully-named Stalingrad station, is hardly salubrious. Control is pretty hard to maintain except for short fascistic periods. Though, there are other pressures — for intsance, in Slovenia, even though there is a good deal of hideousish communist period apartment buildings and official towers, naerly all the houses beyond the city have a common house shape — a house shape any child would be able to draw. Quite why there is such consistency of convention I don’t know — but while the individualist may not be thrilled it does give the country a superb coherence and community feeling.
But city planning ideas are way beyond me. What the answers are for, say,. Melbourne over the next 20 years are deeply problematic what with the sequential govts being entirely unable to wrestle with the fundamentals of infrastruture. It will only get worse — there, I’ve said it.
Au revoir.
WHC.
I was mostly being mischievous. Though it is true that I went to BHV all the time and only occassionally to GL. Partly because I lived close by on Ile St Louis. But have you been to the basement in BHV? I know it is not what people go to Paris for but it is the most fabulous bricolage store in the world. I did like GL’s annual Fete d’Australie–a week during which they mount special displays and Oz-themed goods.
3.3) I think my rule of travel is correct but of course when you live there you ask everyone for advice. I would still say that the long-term etrangers (the Brits, Americans others) still are more savvy about the kind of questions one asks. It is a consequence of when you are a foreigner living in a place, especially Paris, you take a lot more attention to everything, while the French locals usually have quite a settled idea of things they do etc. (However I am sure you and HKF move in much more celebrated circles than I. Though I would also say the French are quite hospitable to Australians.) (Reminds me of an example from my last visit a few years back when I stayed with a french friend. In conversation with his 3 kids it turned out they had vaguely heard of Pere Lachaise but had never been there so I dragged them all off there the next day; as I am sure you know it is the most fabulous cemetery in the world and a great, beautiful, calm place to spend a few hours as well as learn some French history.)
Anyway I enjoyed your travelogue. In fact I am looking seriously at trying to spend part of each year there, maybe even buy some property (tells you something about absurd Australian property values!).
Regards.
Dear Michael,
well thank goodness. I had mistakenly took it at face value that you were being straight. Must be the cold.
The shopping in Paris is wonderful — and you don’t even have to buy anything, except when it’s SOLDES season and the discounts are at 50%, it’s pretty tempting.
I think it would be easy to keep coming back, but I am hampered by not having the language — and yes, the younger folk can manage perfectly acceptable English, but it is a handicap to achieving a certain kind of relaxation. I walk around in a fog of mystery; the writing is ont he wall, but I don’t have the dictionary.
But lucky you, that you might repose in some sweet little pied-a-terre, or maybe a glamorous chateau in the green fields of Bordeaux.
Cheers, WHC