...of mine on p21 of the latest edition of Wanderlust. At a mere 250 words, blink and you'll miss it. But the editor commented "J'aime ça", gave it 5 stars and promoted it to print. So I'm a bit chuffed.
NB: Careful readers may note a reference to a husband. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a wife (or a Communist, come to that). This is what we in the writing community call Artistic Licence.
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paris. Show all posts
Tuesday, 28 July 2009
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
How do you like the Sacré-Coeur?
If you're in Montmartre, you really can't miss the Sacré-Coeur Basilica. Once you get above a certain point on the hill, it's everywhere you look. Reach the top of a flight of steps, stop for a quick breath and lift your head. There it is. Come round the corner of a cobbled alleyway. Yep, there it is again. Pause to smile at the picture-perfect Parisian children playing in the sandpit. Guess what's behind them?
But actually, if you catch at the right sort of angle it can be quite attractive. Not, admittedly, when you walk up the final set of steps to the main entrance. That really is the full-on meringue experience.
So what's the best way to look at the Sacré-Coeur?
Full-on meringue?
Interesting arty backdrop?
Or à la Victor Hugo?
But actually, if you catch at the right sort of angle it can be quite attractive. Not, admittedly, when you walk up the final set of steps to the main entrance. That really is the full-on meringue experience.
So what's the best way to look at the Sacré-Coeur?
Full-on meringue?
Interesting arty backdrop?
Or à la Victor Hugo?Words and Pictures © 2009 Louise Heal
Thursday, 30 April 2009
Montmartre (Part I): Artists, Writers and Other Dissolutes
I didn't think much of Moulin Rouge as a film, but I did like the depiction of Montmartre. Somehow, the idea of a village within Paris that was home to writers, painters, drinkers and artists seemed incurably romantic. And I'm a card-carrying pragmatist.
Even the hotel and street names in Montmartre are artistic. I stayed in the Hotel Utrillo, on rue Aristide Bruant:
Aristide Bruant by Toulose-Lautrec
Armed (again) with Historic Paris Walks, I began my tour down at the bottom of Montmartre, where the real-life Moulin Rouge now boasts (natch) a convenient souvenir shop where tourists can anything from Moulin Rouge key rings to Moulin Rouge umbrellas, via Moulin Rouge baseball caps.
The Moulin Rouge today. And not a hint of Ewan McGregor or Nicole Kidman anywhere...
The Elysée Montmartre, another 'Belle-Epoque' cabaret, hasn't fared quite as well
But there's always one person who has to spoil it for everybody. In Montmartre's case (IMHO) this came in the shape of M. Louis Renault, who saw fit to test his new petrol-fired automobile in the Place du Tertre, thus marking the beginning of the French motor industry. The petrol heads had arrived!
Shortly followed by the first parking ticket
Even the hotel and street names in Montmartre are artistic. I stayed in the Hotel Utrillo, on rue Aristide Bruant:
Aristide Bruant by Toulose-LautrecArmed (again) with Historic Paris Walks, I began my tour down at the bottom of Montmartre, where the real-life Moulin Rouge now boasts (natch) a convenient souvenir shop where tourists can anything from Moulin Rouge key rings to Moulin Rouge umbrellas, via Moulin Rouge baseball caps.
The Moulin Rouge today. And not a hint of Ewan McGregor or Nicole Kidman anywhere...
The Elysée Montmartre, another 'Belle-Epoque' cabaret, hasn't fared quite as wellThe permanent residents of Montmartre must have extremely shapely and well-toned legs. The village is on a hill, many of the streets are cobbled and narrow, and there is a network of steps to take you up and down:
You know it's good for you!
Up at the top of Montmartre, the Dali Espace Montmartre (hosting an exhibition in 2009 to mark the 20th anniversary of his "disappearance") is at No. 1 Rue Poulbot. This being Montmartre, Francisque Poulbot was an artist in his own right. He's most well known for his cartoon-style pictures of Parisian urchins, so much so that the word 'Poulbot' entered the French language to indicate a 'Montmartrois' child.
(This, incidentally, is quite a big deal. The Academie Française keeps an iron grip on the language to prevent any untoward (read: English) words creeping in).
A 'Poulbot', in both senses of the word
Le Consulat
You know it's good for you!Up at the top of Montmartre, the Dali Espace Montmartre (hosting an exhibition in 2009 to mark the 20th anniversary of his "disappearance") is at No. 1 Rue Poulbot. This being Montmartre, Francisque Poulbot was an artist in his own right. He's most well known for his cartoon-style pictures of Parisian urchins, so much so that the word 'Poulbot' entered the French language to indicate a 'Montmartrois' child.
(This, incidentally, is quite a big deal. The Academie Française keeps an iron grip on the language to prevent any untoward (read: English) words creeping in).
A 'Poulbot', in both senses of the wordWhat's the point of being a starving artist/writer if you don't have any good stories? Or anybody to tell them to? Or, more to the point, a place where you can tell them? Montmartre boasts 2 such places: Le Consulat and La Bonne Franquette. These are right next door to each other (there was strong competition for the custom of starving, broke artists).
The Impressionist group of Monet, Renoir, Sisley, Cézanne, Pissarro and Toulouse-Lautrec all hung out here. Van Gogh painted at La Bonne Franquette. Emile Zola developed an attitude here (I'm guessing). Woody Allen, amongst others, has filmed here.
La Bonne Franquette
The Impressionist group of Monet, Renoir, Sisley, Cézanne, Pissarro and Toulouse-Lautrec all hung out here. Van Gogh painted at La Bonne Franquette. Emile Zola developed an attitude here (I'm guessing). Woody Allen, amongst others, has filmed here.
La Bonne Franquette
But there's always one person who has to spoil it for everybody. In Montmartre's case (IMHO) this came in the shape of M. Louis Renault, who saw fit to test his new petrol-fired automobile in the Place du Tertre, thus marking the beginning of the French motor industry. The petrol heads had arrived!
Shortly followed by the first parking ticketWords and Pictures © Louise Heal 2009
Life on a Bike Edge (Part II)
I had a grand plan for my bike trip. In the true tradition of all grand plans, this naturally had one very major flaw.
Before I left London, I borrowed Historic Paris Walks from my local library. I quite fancied the "Americans in Paris: from the Lost Generation to the Beats" walk, combining as it does the Latin Quarter with literary Paris (which happen to be two of my favourite things).
So then I came up with a bright idea: "I know, I won't walk the walk. I'll cycle it". This was shortly followed by a bout of self-congratulatory patting on the back and a smug feeling.
Unfortunately this smug feeling departed rather rapidly when I started cycling. What I had failed to consider was the number of one way streets on the walk. Now, this isn't a problem if you're walking, but it clearly is if you're on a bike! When I navigated the Boulevard St Germain for the 3rd time, I realised I would have to wing it.
I was fairly prepared for the full lunacy of the Parisian traffic, but some of the manoeuvres took my breath away. I lost count of the number of hatchbacks that beetled past me, spotted a parking space and then (without drawing breath), screeched to a stop and reversed straight into my path.
So I got off the main roads as soon as I could and pottered happily around the back streets of the Latin Quarter for an hour or so. There is something good for the soul about floating down a Parisian street in the spring sunshine, passing another row of perfect chestnut trees and smelling the café. I found a few of the places on the walk, such as the original site of Shakespeare and Company.
Then I had the pleasure of interacting with a Gendarme on a motor bike. My crime? Apparently I'd gone through a red light over a particularly snarled up junction . Parisian Gendarmes are bred especially, in order to ensure the necessary level of misanthropy. The general feeling I was left with was "Well Madame, it may only be a red light today, but franchement (frankly) it's a short road from here to mass murder".
I pottered contritely off, found the nearest Vélib station and returned my bike. That café was calling.
12 Rue de l'Odeon, the site of the original Shakespeare & Company bookshop
Owned and run by Sylvia Beach, it was a second home to Hemingway, Fitzgerald et al.
Without this, there would possibly have been no Great Gatsby
And without Sylvia, there would have been no Ulysses
Today's bookshop. Still plays host to a selection of readers, writers and general vagabonds
Before I left London, I borrowed Historic Paris Walks from my local library. I quite fancied the "Americans in Paris: from the Lost Generation to the Beats" walk, combining as it does the Latin Quarter with literary Paris (which happen to be two of my favourite things).
So then I came up with a bright idea: "I know, I won't walk the walk. I'll cycle it". This was shortly followed by a bout of self-congratulatory patting on the back and a smug feeling.
Unfortunately this smug feeling departed rather rapidly when I started cycling. What I had failed to consider was the number of one way streets on the walk. Now, this isn't a problem if you're walking, but it clearly is if you're on a bike! When I navigated the Boulevard St Germain for the 3rd time, I realised I would have to wing it.
I was fairly prepared for the full lunacy of the Parisian traffic, but some of the manoeuvres took my breath away. I lost count of the number of hatchbacks that beetled past me, spotted a parking space and then (without drawing breath), screeched to a stop and reversed straight into my path.
So I got off the main roads as soon as I could and pottered happily around the back streets of the Latin Quarter for an hour or so. There is something good for the soul about floating down a Parisian street in the spring sunshine, passing another row of perfect chestnut trees and smelling the café. I found a few of the places on the walk, such as the original site of Shakespeare and Company.
Then I had the pleasure of interacting with a Gendarme on a motor bike. My crime? Apparently I'd gone through a red light over a particularly snarled up junction . Parisian Gendarmes are bred especially, in order to ensure the necessary level of misanthropy. The general feeling I was left with was "Well Madame, it may only be a red light today, but franchement (frankly) it's a short road from here to mass murder".
I pottered contritely off, found the nearest Vélib station and returned my bike. That café was calling.
12 Rue de l'Odeon, the site of the original Shakespeare & Company bookshopOwned and run by Sylvia Beach, it was a second home to Hemingway, Fitzgerald et al.
Without this, there would possibly have been no Great Gatsby
And without Sylvia, there would have been no Ulysses
Today's bookshop. Still plays host to a selection of readers, writers and general vagabondsWords and Pictures © Louise Heal 2009
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Is timing everything?
If timing really is everything, then Jean-Baptiste Lamarck (1744-1829) got it badly wrong. His 1809 Philosophie Zoologique pre-dates Darwin's Origin of Species by 50 years (and influenced Darwin immensely), yet Lamarck is obscure by comparison.
Jean-Baptiste Lamarck
Jean-Baptiste LamarckLamarck's pre-theory of evolution did, admittedly, have a few flaws. He postulated that species change into new species over time, but then postulated that acquired characteristics can be inherited.
So was he just ahead of his time or was Darwin's theory just better? I would never have heard of Lamarck had it not been for a guidebook note and this street in Montmartre named after him. Maybe timing really is everything.
So was he just ahead of his time or was Darwin's theory just better? I would never have heard of Lamarck had it not been for a guidebook note and this street in Montmartre named after him. Maybe timing really is everything.
Not for M. Lamarck the 200th anniversary celebrations accorded to Darwin
Words and Pictures © Louise Heal 2009
Monday, 27 April 2009
Life on a Bike Edge (Part I)
On Wednesday morning, I decided to branch out, have a new experience, live life dangerously and..rent a bicycle. I mean, I'd hardly dare drive a car in Paris, so why did I think that cycling would be a stress-free experience?
At least getting the bike was stress-free. There is a city-wide Paris bike rental scheme called Vélib, as in Vélo (Bicycle) and Liberté (Freedom). It works like this:
At least getting the bike was stress-free. There is a city-wide Paris bike rental scheme called Vélib, as in Vélo (Bicycle) and Liberté (Freedom). It works like this:
- Find one of the Vélib 'stations' (i.e. pick-up/drop-off points). You should rarely be more than 300m away from one, so this part shouldn't be too tricky Go to the machine and follow the instructions (in English if you need to). For a 1-day pass, you'll pay €1. The first 30 mins of every rental is free, then it's a fixed charge per extra 30 mins (e.g. 90 mins costs €3 + €1 daily rental). You do need to have a credit card, as a fee of €150 is payable if you don't return the bike
- You can then take a bike and cycle off
- When you've finished your trip, return the bike to any Vélib point and put it into a free slot
- Voilà!
The bikes are functional rather than trendy.
They come with 3 gears, a front basket and a security chain
(Note: The BBC reported here that this may be coming to London too. Bang up to the minute!)
Words and Pictures © Louise Heal 2009
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Musée d'Orsay
I'm ashamed to say that until today I'd never been to the Musée d'Orsay. Either I was in the wrong part of town, I had other things planned or the queue was unfeasibly long when I got there. Today, however, I finally rectified that. And, my, didn't I feel bad when I got inside. I was one step away from phoning all my friends and relatives and saying 'Stop whatever you're doing and come here NOW. You must. You absolutely must'.
First there's the building. It seems a shame that such a beautiful structure ever housed a station (but hey, that was the Victorians for you) as it seems tailor-made for an art gallery. The light trickles through the ceiling to make even the glummest of paintings or the most serious sculptures seem positively happy.
On the principle of 'Always leave wanting more' I didn't stay too long - 90 mins was plenty to give me a good overview but, in the words of Arnie, I'll be back. Best €8 I've spent in a while.
Station/Musuem Clock
Van Gogh
Monet
Monet (again)
Degas
Cabanel
Winterhalter (Mrs Rimsky-Korsakov)
The main hall
Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux's Four Parts of the World
First there's the building. It seems a shame that such a beautiful structure ever housed a station (but hey, that was the Victorians for you) as it seems tailor-made for an art gallery. The light trickles through the ceiling to make even the glummest of paintings or the most serious sculptures seem positively happy.
On the principle of 'Always leave wanting more' I didn't stay too long - 90 mins was plenty to give me a good overview but, in the words of Arnie, I'll be back. Best €8 I've spent in a while.
Station/Musuem Clock
Van Gogh
Monet
Monet (again)
Degas
Cabanel
Winterhalter (Mrs Rimsky-Korsakov)
The main hall
Jean-Baptiste Carpeaux's Four Parts of the World
Words and Pictures © Louise Heal 2009
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Expecting the Unexpected
There were some things that I didn't believe until I saw them with my own eyes on my travels. These include:
- The size of the Pyramids (HOW big?)
- The sight of a mirage in the desert
- Just how stunning the Taj Mahal really is
The grapes producing the rare 'Clos Montmartre' wine
I can't imagine there's a huge need for helpers when it comes to the 'vendange'
I can't imagine there's a huge need for helpers when it comes to the 'vendange'
Just across the road from the vineyard is the 'Au Lapin Agile' (The Agile Rabbit) cabaret. (Is this Paris's answer to the Playboy Mansion?). This is notable for its owner, one M. Aristide Bruant, who was painted in black coat and hat by his good friend M. Toulose-Lautrec.
In fact, the whole of Montmartre is filled with artistic ghosts. More on this tomorrow. For now, it's been a long day and I'm off for un bon diner! Bon soir & Bonne Nuit.
Has anybody told Hef?
In fact, the whole of Montmartre is filled with artistic ghosts. More on this tomorrow. For now, it's been a long day and I'm off for un bon diner! Bon soir & Bonne Nuit.
Has anybody told Hef?
Words and Pictures © Louise Heal 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)