tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41385186551449586942024-03-17T23:00:35.990-04:00Travel OysterTravel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-22372032794129601472024-03-05T12:54:00.004-05:002024-03-06T04:19:40.798-05:00Covered Passages of Paris<p style="text-align: justify;"><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtt8HQvzHTK2W0j6zwyeMG9hSd_d7swEOPevYxqTrqHylzPLgmToIuKis4J6r1_OIy2Oul54BInkeVLikzCeIVf9L0W8OsaO9Pw6lblWEXHHnyAymwSIhAXqWKuXdxhVJPHVUcZG-W1buhcvy2oswCQfkA5OOOOQVr2tt_lWCbH75Hnl31H9HpHOA6zA/s2047/IMG_3784-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2047" data-original-width="2047" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtt8HQvzHTK2W0j6zwyeMG9hSd_d7swEOPevYxqTrqHylzPLgmToIuKis4J6r1_OIy2Oul54BInkeVLikzCeIVf9L0W8OsaO9Pw6lblWEXHHnyAymwSIhAXqWKuXdxhVJPHVUcZG-W1buhcvy2oswCQfkA5OOOOQVr2tt_lWCbH75Hnl31H9HpHOA6zA/w640-h640/IMG_3784-COLLAGE.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi90Q1yhNfY7KzzuK72_1qn4pkCz9GEpV3N1EVxK2mooOud50k0koGTJ7YLwyGNVPwFrzpbgIZ88y3GWtlQmuhlMUFRrCGE50t2icZbNBjgWgIyCIh1CrhY-nFzGE-QcELaNpmz-G5L6yMnAeM79UyJbH6vfjuMiCvDWQiz7Xm_BqNjc_1_FQv5KS3VMzU/s3774/IMG_3926.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3774" data-original-width="2765" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi90Q1yhNfY7KzzuK72_1qn4pkCz9GEpV3N1EVxK2mooOud50k0koGTJ7YLwyGNVPwFrzpbgIZ88y3GWtlQmuhlMUFRrCGE50t2icZbNBjgWgIyCIh1CrhY-nFzGE-QcELaNpmz-G5L6yMnAeM79UyJbH6vfjuMiCvDWQiz7Xm_BqNjc_1_FQv5KS3VMzU/s320/IMG_3926.jpeg" width="234" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;">As my good friend <a href="http://adrianleeds.com" target="_blank">Adrian Leeds</a> always says: "You don't come to Paris for the weather." And, I would add, certainly not in February. The weather site Meteoart had this advice for February 2024: "if you want to stay dry, get out your rubber boots and your umbrella." They went on to predict eight to fifteen days of rain in February, but they were way off. We have been here for 29 days and have had just one sunny day. To be fair, there have been intermittent minutes of sunshine and even a fabulous double rainbow one day, but mostly it's been grey, windy and rainy. </div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">One of the things I most enjoy doing in Paris is setting out on an unplanned walk to people watch and to take in the sites and sounds of the city. I wrote about it in this post, <a href="https://traveloyster.blogspot.com/2015/03/a-flaneur-in-paris.html" target="_blank">A Flâneur in Paris</a>. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwV1W8dv1UxlRuSZNZBysVoee3ZL4xw0pT72Aa01Rry_K7ezZdkTssnUR4GF64zcjFWcayTnnPzlZlBDirJNTtyaMGEKiZwPAt84uIHpXHz58zyeviejrbskuHWYKSJHUeRoLRDKJrpddr858krbZKHenCw1MkFsq5YbCoO40GmuXxX8woVb2ZKRVh2A/s4032/IMG_3886.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKwV1W8dv1UxlRuSZNZBysVoee3ZL4xw0pT72Aa01Rry_K7ezZdkTssnUR4GF64zcjFWcayTnnPzlZlBDirJNTtyaMGEKiZwPAt84uIHpXHz58zyeviejrbskuHWYKSJHUeRoLRDKJrpddr858krbZKHenCw1MkFsq5YbCoO40GmuXxX8woVb2ZKRVh2A/s320/IMG_3886.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>Wandering aimlessly about is an activity that loses some of its appeal when the rain pours down and the wind blows your umbrella inside out. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Fortunately for me, I'm living this year in an area of Paris that is full of covered shopping arcades known as </span><i>Passages Couverts. </i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> With their glass ceilings, ornate decorations, interesting boutiques, book stores and cafes, they are a perfect rainy-day respite. There are seven of these marvels within a few minutes of my apartment and if I plan my route wisely, I can almost avoid the rain. </span></div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">For Parisians of the 18th century, rain was the least of their worries. There was no sewage system, no sidewalks</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> and most of the narrow, dark streets were unpaved. Passages or galleries, as they are also known, became a place where people could stroll, shop, see and be seen. At night, under the glow of newly-introduced gas lamps, patrons could visit theaters, bars and dance halls. Above the shops, there were private apartments and in some passages, houses of prostitution.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The passages owe their existence indirectly to historical events in 1789. In that year, France outlawed</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> feudalism and nationalized and sold the holdings of the Catholic church, which, in turn, led to </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">a period of financial speculation and a construction boom. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Between the end of the 18th century and the middle of the 19th century, 150 covered passages were built in Paris</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> - each with its own style and each a world unto itself. Architectural styles included everything from Neo-Classical to Renaissance to Pompeian to Art-Deco. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDfpoTxt3nErhg1ipdtQIoQmjVal5pjEQUBKyMQC37h_HIu2KB_ZRIPW9c8TX7k0OuEsrkWuVGP_To6OJoEI2Cv63e_gVXdJfvk3Ep5lRrlLuqHB2N3He65KR4zIupzdriS4sN2kPm9cCJKaDlOZ5-mgI3D4p_myRFOug-OuvEitUzPRN_U9lgh_oEho/s2500/Galeries_de_Bois_du_Palais-Royal_-_interior,_drawing_1.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2500" data-original-width="1412" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIDfpoTxt3nErhg1ipdtQIoQmjVal5pjEQUBKyMQC37h_HIu2KB_ZRIPW9c8TX7k0OuEsrkWuVGP_To6OJoEI2Cv63e_gVXdJfvk3Ep5lRrlLuqHB2N3He65KR4zIupzdriS4sN2kPm9cCJKaDlOZ5-mgI3D4p_myRFOug-OuvEitUzPRN_U9lgh_oEho/w226-h400/Galeries_de_Bois_du_Palais-Royal_-_interior,_drawing_1.jpg" width="226" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Of those 150 passages, today only 30 remain Most of the others were torn down during the renovation of Paris by <a href="https://blogs.loc.gov/maps/2023/05/exploring-haussmannian-paris/" target="_blank">Georges-Eugène Haussmann</a> between 1853 and 1870. The passages are privately owned, but the owners receive financial aid from the city. The aim is to preserve these national treasures and to ensure that they remain a place where people live, and where specialized commerce can thrive - or where one can wander aimlessly on a grey, rainy day in Paris. T</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">he Palais Royal is where the first </span><i>Galeries de Bois</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> or wooden galleries were built in the 1770s. Balzac in his novel </span><i>Les Illusions Perdues </i><span style="font-family: verdana;">(Lost Illusions) called them "one of the most renowned Parisian curiosities." By day, they were the gathering place for the aristocrats, intellectuals and financial leaders of France. But as Balzac went on to write: "The poetry of this amazing bazaar shatters at night" when the galleries became a place of gambling, prostitution and chaotic debauchery.</span></div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuX9nVdbLr6touekb4c7n3lDhfkwbo_P6T3KJ4rCein5lAU7idfPSJnALW0ZBFcOZKK6tyJsvl7JyZ9jRqGQtAXZ5kkng84uOEPIwZ3O-1mhjG6h8LFdZeJtI_VeobObxSEs4T5k9EqF-gJpr1MdAGTY9QwzSvCJD9wQXqIvW1bfKDNnmBVa67Er7bj_M/s4032/IMG_3595.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuX9nVdbLr6touekb4c7n3lDhfkwbo_P6T3KJ4rCein5lAU7idfPSJnALW0ZBFcOZKK6tyJsvl7JyZ9jRqGQtAXZ5kkng84uOEPIwZ3O-1mhjG6h8LFdZeJtI_VeobObxSEs4T5k9EqF-gJpr1MdAGTY9QwzSvCJD9wQXqIvW1bfKDNnmBVa67Er7bj_M/s320/IMG_3595.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Reading Balzac, one can vividly imagine the scene. On this day, however, chance and the magic of cinema left nothing to the imagination. As I entered the Palais Royal, there were crowds of people in 18th-century dress, strolling among market stalls. Suddenly, in the square, a sword fight broke out, and the crowd surged forward, cheering on the two young, dueling aristocrats. <i>"Coupez"</i> came a loud voice, and the action stopped. I had not stepped back in time, but rather had come upon the filming of an episode of "Marie Antionette" for the TV station Canal Plus. </div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">After watching for awhile, I crossed the square and walked along the elegant shops under the opposite arcade, with the sounds of the 18th century fading quietly away. I left the Palais Royal, crossed the street and climbed the steps to pass through the smallest passage in Paris, the <i>Passage des Deux Pavillons. </i>Then it was on to the <i>Galerie Colbert </i>and the <i>Galerie Vivienne. </i>Just steps away from one another, they are the two of the most beautiful passages in Paris.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hTS5zSmLZBXy2MpdsFuAB0Ei_j43JEYGV8H81nhuceoFQ-jvKBTW4FjOVQPlDT42V9R7RBTTiY1-CF9BSFw3a4f18EnooKQ_Zgtu2y7Cj5vbSYYjnDwnMDGna7hAZqwQBWwANM71voEOIaIknpnjRA3OJa_wWlmWLvQV7ArcbHGmJbGUDVLyNSDVAZw/s4032/IMG_3852.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8hTS5zSmLZBXy2MpdsFuAB0Ei_j43JEYGV8H81nhuceoFQ-jvKBTW4FjOVQPlDT42V9R7RBTTiY1-CF9BSFw3a4f18EnooKQ_Zgtu2y7Cj5vbSYYjnDwnMDGna7hAZqwQBWwANM71voEOIaIknpnjRA3OJa_wWlmWLvQV7ArcbHGmJbGUDVLyNSDVAZw/s320/IMG_3852.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Formal and elegant, the <i>Galerie Colbert </i>is the property of the Bibliothèque national, France's national library. It's home to the National Institute of the History of Art and the National Heritage Institute. There are no shops, but visitors are allowed in to view the magnificent rotunda with its glass cupola and lovely sculpture.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITKF0zsfMQYm7exUBxiFcHTMvp-_7yyEG-dohNuDd2PmzugvKyq1BrjON3MkKbsamB4EdMiJ1-QfCU9IrbrVLZMkoyh7fJDlAuTeWvYbTGMFLLILgMEh7N3mk-3B_SgQzczpKihEzfeLZJ9_KipbSzxrsQlwwla_abUOoPNu-SruqwLUNcUYXQiqYMiQ/s2971/IMG_3847.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2432" data-original-width="2971" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITKF0zsfMQYm7exUBxiFcHTMvp-_7yyEG-dohNuDd2PmzugvKyq1BrjON3MkKbsamB4EdMiJ1-QfCU9IrbrVLZMkoyh7fJDlAuTeWvYbTGMFLLILgMEh7N3mk-3B_SgQzczpKihEzfeLZJ9_KipbSzxrsQlwwla_abUOoPNu-SruqwLUNcUYXQiqYMiQ/s320/IMG_3847.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>An historic monument that opened in 1826, the <i>Galerie Vivienne </i>is a garden of sensory delights. Elegant and refined, its Pompeian, Neo-classical decor is adorned with Corinthian columns and frescoes. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Overhead, a glass ceiling and a spectacular cupola bathes the gallery in diffused light, even on a rainy day. Underfoot, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">the marble and mosaic tile floors are a work of art, beautifully intact along the entire length of the 180-meter gallery. The mosaicist, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giandomenico_Facchina" target="_blank">Giandomenico Facchina</a>, inscribed his name in tile at the entrance to the gallery. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Walk slowly and look around. There is so much to see and the shops are so varied - a wonderful toy store, a book vendor, a tailor, a boot maker, a fine fabrics store, a stamp merchant, a wine shop, and several cafes and restaurants. </span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrwOdashG1ozUmND1oYLEO5GiBe4Qa-qhJFv0QIerXs2k4Mq7WmpYNypCd5VfnlG1SOfQVO_hehg7jHlc_NZGINNvS0R8ctAUv46mp_sCRA1xNubd_FClFYyssnSA5h86uDFD1nh6QDxr522YQ7Z0npikViGzxiWzVG7VsXg4-lOD5FmXdPWrtZIGW54/s3004/IMG_3988.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3004" data-original-width="2980" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghrwOdashG1ozUmND1oYLEO5GiBe4Qa-qhJFv0QIerXs2k4Mq7WmpYNypCd5VfnlG1SOfQVO_hehg7jHlc_NZGINNvS0R8ctAUv46mp_sCRA1xNubd_FClFYyssnSA5h86uDFD1nh6QDxr522YQ7Z0npikViGzxiWzVG7VsXg4-lOD5FmXdPWrtZIGW54/s320/IMG_3988.jpeg" width="317" /></a></div>My first stop was <i>Le Valentin Vivienne, </i>a traditionally beautiful </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">restaurant with delicious home-made pastries. It's packed at lunch, but it's a delightful place to wile away the morning. Next stop was the </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <i>Librairie Jousseaume</i>, one of the oldest and most charming book stores in Paris. Operated by the Jousseaume family since l870, it has been a fixture in the Gallery since its opening in 1826 when it was known as the <i>Petit-Siroux, </i>a name that is still embossed on the shop window. Customers have included such famous French authors as Collette and Jean Cocteau.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">If you linger long enough to enjoy all the treasures of the gallery, by the time you reach the other end, you can stop for a glass of wine or a cup of tea at the <i>Bistrot Viviennne</i>. Or you can walk 10 minutes north, where you'll find the <i>Passage des Panoramas</i> and the <i>Passage Jouffroy, </i>home to the <a href="https://www.grevin-paris.com/" target="_blank">Musée Grévin</a>, Paris's famous wax museum.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwyyL7sUu1yCtvZ0jeUK_fWQEC6aRf62i2l6G6dI-Vo2np8LL1ETuIPRJCg1tTXnpoacSDJe6coYStkBKgnnDLrrygsIdZrgMLRZ3fbFlqXbRGRzAguo9Bh0vHa6r1Zkj1dEA8juMgvWn21TKfCeHnd83Z6Y9zntENATDYcEHwVxhzMx-Nv8Crhug8poo/s4032/IMG_3996.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwyyL7sUu1yCtvZ0jeUK_fWQEC6aRf62i2l6G6dI-Vo2np8LL1ETuIPRJCg1tTXnpoacSDJe6coYStkBKgnnDLrrygsIdZrgMLRZ3fbFlqXbRGRzAguo9Bh0vHa6r1Zkj1dEA8juMgvWn21TKfCeHnd83Z6Y9zntENATDYcEHwVxhzMx-Nv8Crhug8poo/s320/IMG_3996.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I, instead, turned my steps toward home. My last stop was the </span><i>Galerie Véro-Dodat, </i><span style="font-family: verdana;">one of my favorites. The gallery takes its name from the two investors who opened it in 1826. At the time, it was famous for its modern gas lighting and for the refinement of its decor. It was supplanted by more modern galleries and in the 20th century, was threatened with demolition. In the late 1970s, it was purchased by a group of antique dealers, who completely restored it in 1997. Vero-Dodat is now home to antique stores, art galleries, jewelry shops, and high-end furniture and clothing boutiques, all attracted by the nostalgic charm of the gallery. </span></div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I hope the sun shines on you when you come to Paris, but if it doesn't, the covered passages await you.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">For more photos, click <a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/8v4VivARAcxim8JY9" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rZy8d2wxtdFsCPVgtpzfisPKzrdqIYFkL_N4pKzyloGkEpiEKPx24Oe78xpjv-0T_gEkgCm0z_Nf6LKZ7wVDXe1ARhviILLgFZoYlEwhlwL-r0MIrwXao_A4ynI-hkeRrb36by2hNnLB5ppDqWjLF1EiGJofVV_o9nkuLhlyqpPhteH4PK-GYAShWzs/s3088/IMG_3900.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9rZy8d2wxtdFsCPVgtpzfisPKzrdqIYFkL_N4pKzyloGkEpiEKPx24Oe78xpjv-0T_gEkgCm0z_Nf6LKZ7wVDXe1ARhviILLgFZoYlEwhlwL-r0MIrwXao_A4ynI-hkeRrb36by2hNnLB5ppDqWjLF1EiGJofVV_o9nkuLhlyqpPhteH4PK-GYAShWzs/w150-h200/IMG_3900.jpeg" width="150" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A bientôt, </span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Geraldine</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: xx-small;">Photos by GK unless otherwise noted</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-81279528565293971602024-02-14T10:05:00.007-05:002024-02-28T06:42:55.321-05:00PARIS - OUT OUR WINDOW<p> <br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQy_u7ZZ2gmN7uBxUNoeMxxhQGD2T6D0e8OOIKxOuEepOrXkBN8XId2Tb8Hum20T1cCN5vIfR9HS30YLK-BjMmIrTq8NXvqXJd4U97eptVyCGNZvPtSuXNVCAghmUWrY4fvFMhT6-kIO9DVPLzo9RCsEHrrnIb6ourdPUGAicgbpqt26URDKkUk1DMps/s4032/IMG_3639.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijQy_u7ZZ2gmN7uBxUNoeMxxhQGD2T6D0e8OOIKxOuEepOrXkBN8XId2Tb8Hum20T1cCN5vIfR9HS30YLK-BjMmIrTq8NXvqXJd4U97eptVyCGNZvPtSuXNVCAghmUWrY4fvFMhT6-kIO9DVPLzo9RCsEHrrnIb6ourdPUGAicgbpqt26URDKkUk1DMps/w714-h480/IMG_3639.jpeg" width="714" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small; text-align: right;"> </span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div>We are back in Paris. This year, we are living right in the heart of the bustling city, but our fifth-floor view </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>is wide open and spectacular. F</span><span>rom our south-facing windows, w</span><span>e look out on to the <a href="https://w.wiki/9AbR" target="_blank"><i>Bourse de Commerce</i> </a>and its adjacent gardens and walkways. The gardens are home to</span> house sparrows whose songs outside our windows add a touch of brightness to these cloudy Paris mornings.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkEzGxENvgnZnbjcoLMI6MvJ2auIj42M0Vsq0rk4ssBfcLk3wkQi2bJBOHpyPHJL9ZJHOTeTAWwpQc043LYH7M2wKuRCyDHSbNABsEVLNzi0WuzWxZOow7t1HcNms1RXMX9__DPBGi6MlUSMVyDmUANLD060cVcjLzALfXSK-Om7rvWahMvUA0930Mas/s3197/IMG_3623%20(1).jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1699" data-original-width="3197" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkEzGxENvgnZnbjcoLMI6MvJ2auIj42M0Vsq0rk4ssBfcLk3wkQi2bJBOHpyPHJL9ZJHOTeTAWwpQc043LYH7M2wKuRCyDHSbNABsEVLNzi0WuzWxZOow7t1HcNms1RXMX9__DPBGi6MlUSMVyDmUANLD060cVcjLzALfXSK-Om7rvWahMvUA0930Mas/w400-h213/IMG_3623%20(1).jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>From our balcony, we see the undulating, translucent glass canopy of the <i><a href="https://www.travelfranceonline.com/les-halles-historical-district-paris/#:~:text=Les%20Halles%20%E2%80%93%20Foundation&text=In%20the%20early%2012th%20century,Les%20Champeaux%20to%20transfer%20it." target="_blank">Les Halles</a> </i> shopping center. Looming up behind it is the multi-colored glass and metal structure of the modern art museum of the <i><a href="https://www.centrepompidou.fr/en/" target="_blank">Centre Pompidou</a></i>. </span></span><span><span style="font-size: medium;">We have to go outside to see the flying buttresses of the imposing Saint Eustache church, whose bell tower annou</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">nces its presence with the melodious chiming of the hours. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>On 13th-century Paris maps. our street is visible just inside the now non-existent walls of Paris. The main market of Paris was located in the surrounding area, where <i>Les Halles </i>now stands. Built on marshland that had been drained and converted to fields, the market would occupy the same area for almost 800 years. It began as a dry goods and grain market and over time, wholesale food halls were added. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWGwOPO1Q45yb2sv1lOiThZDy_JqUzA2JF2FZk_KaIktBkAmcD679Af0TumENxNp0DF3XeII4DUgd5xcXNTQTsibhhShEq0UIK6yjUH5X2_RH4rtkOydiT1bvDKYeQ5w_glzjUYRIq_Ltly9BL5p3Qtu0f7qXshhwuDLsC2Wg2HW52cDLz-oNn-n3m24/s2048/Vedere_a_Halelor_din_Paris_de_pe_Biserica_Saint_Eustache.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1377" data-original-width="2048" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJWGwOPO1Q45yb2sv1lOiThZDy_JqUzA2JF2FZk_KaIktBkAmcD679Af0TumENxNp0DF3XeII4DUgd5xcXNTQTsibhhShEq0UIK6yjUH5X2_RH4rtkOydiT1bvDKYeQ5w_glzjUYRIq_Ltly9BL5p3Qtu0f7qXshhwuDLsC2Wg2HW52cDLz-oNn-n3m24/s320/Vedere_a_Halelor_din_Paris_de_pe_Biserica_Saint_Eustache.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Different structures were built and demolished over the centuries, but the most famous of the buildings were the beautiful iron and glass pavilions erected in the 1850s. The buildings, designed by <a href="https://www.wga.hu/bio_m/b/baltard/victor/biograph.html" target="_blank">Victor Baltard,</a> were one of the must-see sights of Paris for more than 100 years. They were demolished in 1973, and the market was moved outside of Paris. </span>For years the site was a huge hole in the ground as various ideas for the new construction were debated and rejected. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSiy6wetG4jbAgX5Erb8D3EihOAPVQt0WXYSxn5ZDLOSOnY84D32xh-XkkY3CTOtWmHfmQk_tFe_-LqixA3AaiTwlTSWm_Q-lVoxkSbEy2tJ9HVLVde3vyXtTuADhhxcdw1r2RYAw522ZpDpaHDMwDHIJg-4u4ASgAH3tNAmZ4xhXYvrkWDESaS_IUmzM/s4032/IMG_7845.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSiy6wetG4jbAgX5Erb8D3EihOAPVQt0WXYSxn5ZDLOSOnY84D32xh-XkkY3CTOtWmHfmQk_tFe_-LqixA3AaiTwlTSWm_Q-lVoxkSbEy2tJ9HVLVde3vyXtTuADhhxcdw1r2RYAw522ZpDpaHDMwDHIJg-4u4ASgAH3tNAmZ4xhXYvrkWDESaS_IUmzM/s320/IMG_7845.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>When the new shopping center was finally built, it was in the opinion of many, an eyesore in the heart of Paris. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">The remodel, with its two and a half hectare canopy composed of 18,000 glass panes was completed in 2018. Like the pyramid of the Louvre before it, it is loved by some, hated by others.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEwCkHCq-DWHK3BcKvfkre30L8MPQhpzWw2tY4T4UV8IjC6BN7BAW967XFBlaBofL4DE5F0pIAKTlKk7zi8p30yMQftbsRy8QwUgylUFL0o2OiDRfz4BwzPZXZOI1BsvweIzgymv9HDLFIFiUdlvPjMfXEX58RBq9WDi-TfiDW9ohsstPC54oFNq4N90/s4032/IMG_7845.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUEwCkHCq-DWHK3BcKvfkre30L8MPQhpzWw2tY4T4UV8IjC6BN7BAW967XFBlaBofL4DE5F0pIAKTlKk7zi8p30yMQftbsRy8QwUgylUFL0o2OiDRfz4BwzPZXZOI1BsvweIzgymv9HDLFIFiUdlvPjMfXEX58RBq9WDi-TfiDW9ohsstPC54oFNq4N90/s4032/IMG_7845.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQIfCI67JgrgY5QQ0Fr_INjCNvo0ASIg8bdObPmCCBtsb-q9Z5zQxGkeUdDVZsEysLJ1YV_ijlf-vBV-lY1mkF4j5Ol33XnLno0CPAk6nw3-ng8-LrWADOP9YvaM6cObPSNXwoaz50vhIcydFy0YsYbchrQm80cQHfJKA_eRW9rv3xNqFemT_HAdh4GA/s3000/Soisson.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1547" data-original-width="3000" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvQIfCI67JgrgY5QQ0Fr_INjCNvo0ASIg8bdObPmCCBtsb-q9Z5zQxGkeUdDVZsEysLJ1YV_ijlf-vBV-lY1mkF4j5Ol33XnLno0CPAk6nw3-ng8-LrWADOP9YvaM6cObPSNXwoaz50vhIcydFy0YsYbchrQm80cQHfJKA_eRW9rv3xNqFemT_HAdh4GA/s320/Soisson.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In 1582, near the emplacement of the market,</span><span> <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Catherine-de-Medici" target="_blank">Catherine de Medici</a>, the queen consort of France, built</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span> </span><i>L'hôtel de la Reine.</i><i> </i><span> She adorned her sumptuous residence, known afterward as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C3%B4tel_de_Soissons#:~:text=The%20H%C3%B4tel%20de%20Soissons%20was,hotel%20was%20enlarged%20and%20embellished." target="_blank">L</a><i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C3%B4tel_de_Soissons#:~:text=The%20H%C3%B4tel%20de%20Soissons%20was,hotel%20was%20enlarged%20and%20embellished." target="_blank">'hôtel de Soissons</a>, </i>and its large formal gardens </span><span>with paintings and sculptures from her extensive art collection. Catherine enjoyed her palatial residence for just seven years. She died in 1589 and for almost two hundred years afterward, the estate passed to various counts, dukes, princesses and princes. The last owner, the Prince of Carignan, died in financial ruin in 1741. His creditors clamored for compensation and in 1749, the building was razed and its material sold to pay his debts. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span>The only vestige of Catherine's fabulous home is a 31-meter stone column. It is thought that she had it built for her Italian astrologer Cosimo Ruggieri, a supposed master of the occult, but its actual purpose has never been confirmed. </span></span><span> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAPEMdXbq5pRXeBz9e6gr8BNbGqDWIzpqOTxdnguTbie9deJGcjr2Y4i7xC-awNx43g0OsrhIcnRkVfmh-NO9O9Ti6SZCdGOmusg5dlTqVAokTWP0hzCtthIc1f3fnM1rj4zZ7M8inzYYacPboSbrq46KWeKVD06t5HvC1sVOFMUNv4WGJ1jAfcvYQRyw/s4032/IMG_3636.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAPEMdXbq5pRXeBz9e6gr8BNbGqDWIzpqOTxdnguTbie9deJGcjr2Y4i7xC-awNx43g0OsrhIcnRkVfmh-NO9O9Ti6SZCdGOmusg5dlTqVAokTWP0hzCtthIc1f3fnM1rj4zZ7M8inzYYacPboSbrq46KWeKVD06t5HvC1sVOFMUNv4WGJ1jAfcvYQRyw/s320/IMG_3636.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>As in the days of Catherine de Medici, the building is once again filled with art. Originally a grain market, then a stock exchange, it is now Paris's newest museum, <a href="https://www.pinaultcollection.com/en" target="_blank">The Pinault</a> - Bourse de Commerce Collection. Renovated at a cost of more than 200 million dollars by the French billionaire François Pinault, the museum hosts temporary exhibits showcasing Pinault's vast modern art collection. The Medici column remains and is now topped by Philippe Parreno's "Mont Analogue." The museum describes the art piecee thusly: "a lighthouse signaling the <i>Bourse de Commerce</i> from the top of the Medici column, Mont Analogue throbs with lights of different hues and sends its utopian message out in the Paris sky" - and right into our living room.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbn4_VZEUMJ3bRoNJW7DYxKSgFNDneKJKq6mNl71pLFJYrS_Ndfgyuu5gEMv0JAS5-zyckvidx83nhBiF5qdl4HMuIBp1ORGs_vR6QCTyCu99i1NmKQkbILITdULw7c0EkYK-z6WAZRvwy-bRg6VYm3oKwfAoKh0bQd7KcRFCU97tkpSA2NHVJW1Rka3w/s3888/IMG_3625.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2916" data-original-width="3888" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbn4_VZEUMJ3bRoNJW7DYxKSgFNDneKJKq6mNl71pLFJYrS_Ndfgyuu5gEMv0JAS5-zyckvidx83nhBiF5qdl4HMuIBp1ORGs_vR6QCTyCu99i1NmKQkbILITdULw7c0EkYK-z6WAZRvwy-bRg6VYm3oKwfAoKh0bQd7KcRFCU97tkpSA2NHVJW1Rka3w/w640-h480/IMG_3625.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>The museum also houses a restaurant, <a href="https://www.halleauxgrains.bras.fr/en" target="_blank"><i>La Halle aux grains</i>,</a> located in the rotunda of the dome. Its big windows give us a birds eye view of the restaurant.</span><span> I</span><span>n one window are the chefs in their toques, surrounded by the sous-chefs and their helpers, all of them hard at work. Waitpeople rush into the brightly-lit kitchen and then glide smoothly into the elegant, softly-lit dining room. Candles flicker, wine glasses are raised, delicious food is enjoyed while behind the scenes the chefs work non-stop late into the night. It's like a private viewing of the English television series, "Upstairs, Downstairs." </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnXkmgvXkeH4LX72jHPPL0e8pHmfldy_an5Ey4_NAiEP0-cjXPyXzo09MwTuM0ClhWg9cwz5S4G0_3DGNyVU9209quGV7XSon0tmlEaQXpeo1QFy1wsRgpZ-hHxweNYVHSry2ie8pWDqa6eIBulojRJZaXu8R_tXh6htbCr8j9Xh11r4tSGdiWeaUpWk/s3814/IMG_3673.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3814" data-original-width="2829" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEnXkmgvXkeH4LX72jHPPL0e8pHmfldy_an5Ey4_NAiEP0-cjXPyXzo09MwTuM0ClhWg9cwz5S4G0_3DGNyVU9209quGV7XSon0tmlEaQXpeo1QFy1wsRgpZ-hHxweNYVHSry2ie8pWDqa6eIBulojRJZaXu8R_tXh6htbCr8j9Xh11r4tSGdiWeaUpWk/s320/IMG_3673.jpeg" width="237" /></a></div>Down below, there is drama as well. People pass through the park day and night in an ever-changing scene: rushing or lingering, talking, laughing, crying, embracing. There are, however, some constants - the five or six dogs, who arrive every morning with their owners in tow. While the owners exchange polite greetings, the dogs, without any pretext of French decorum run toward each other with a wild canine <i>joie de vivre - </i></span><span style="font-size: medium;">happy to be in the park, happy to see their friends, just happy to be alive. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">We know exactly how they feel. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUp9jnaYPaXzya-hP1HxNtOAc9PGyyclp7Cu00Jn32HDhkEa3T34A7SZRVPNU82V_CBYu6BsIo60XPHDg9LXDClXc03KtlUmp-bRE6YAqhCFCIfHcbAtmoP4XtDzYWlpgoUOigq8piRjh6pN8wAJWzV4P9x7pJ3nIrfMuFG8ASbRBF2yc7ibsQzq71Oc/s3451/IMG_3684.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3451" data-original-width="2712" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUp9jnaYPaXzya-hP1HxNtOAc9PGyyclp7Cu00Jn32HDhkEa3T34A7SZRVPNU82V_CBYu6BsIo60XPHDg9LXDClXc03KtlUmp-bRE6YAqhCFCIfHcbAtmoP4XtDzYWlpgoUOigq8piRjh6pN8wAJWzV4P9x7pJ3nIrfMuFG8ASbRBF2yc7ibsQzq71Oc/w157-h200/IMG_3684.jpeg" width="157" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;">A bientôt,</div><div style="text-align: right;">Geraldine</div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span>For more photos, click <a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/yYg2pcU6ZLpx36Rp8" target="_blank">here</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-52657119230996789222020-08-13T14:29:00.004-04:002020-08-14T12:06:42.747-04:00Natural Wonders<div class="separator" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; clear: both; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14.8274px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xS5D8baf0gc/XzVSvuYYPCI/AAAAAAABjgw/fOeWJFDPfUEWl0iRMcU89FaTW5KhkCUJgCPcBGAsYHg/s4032/IMG_9601.JPG" style="color: #0066cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xS5D8baf0gc/XzVSvuYYPCI/AAAAAAABjgw/fOeWJFDPfUEWl0iRMcU89FaTW5KhkCUJgCPcBGAsYHg/w640-h480/IMG_9601.JPG" style="border-width: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div><span face="" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14.8274px;"><br /></span><p style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 14.8274px;"></p><p> </p><p><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Travel Oyster isn't doing much travel these days. On March 16, while we were still in Paris, France was locked down in an effort to combat the spread of Covid-19. </span><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">We had planned to spend five weeks in Italy after our Paris stay, but that trip had been cancelled back in February. We hoped we might be able to spend that extra time in Paris, but reality intervened, and we rebooked our flight home for March 20. It was one of the last non-stop Air France flights from Paris to Detroit. The big rush of Americans had already fled France and the airports in Paris and Detroit were eerily empty. We were asked to self-quarantine for 14 days on our return to the States. By the time the two weeks ended, Michigan's governor had locked down the State.</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><o:p style="font-size: 12pt;"></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qMGtx6UJBWE/XzVZs3I8GMI/AAAAAAABjic/CiNntUXM32ME56S5sNYe6RJdEDPfMq98QCPcBGAsYHg/s3264/IMG_5289.JPG" style="clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qMGtx6UJBWE/XzVZs3I8GMI/AAAAAAABjic/CiNntUXM32ME56S5sNYe6RJdEDPfMq98QCPcBGAsYHg/w200-h150/IMG_5289.JPG" style="border-width: 0px;" width="200" /></a></span></div><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">By mid-May, when travel to second homes was allowed in Michigan, we came up to our cabin in northern Michigan. In Italy, where the lockdowns have been very effective, our friends are traveling again, and they tell us that they are discovering the beauty of their own country minus the usual crush of tourists. </span><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">In our opinion, it's not safe to travel across the United States, so we've decided to concentrate on the natural wonders that are right outside our cabin door.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">So far, it has been a beautiful summer with warm sunny days and crisp cool nights. Compared to many, many other people in the United States, we feel incredibly lucky. We sleep on our screened-in porch and in this time of the full moon, the trees cast their shadows across the forest, and the river in front of our cabin sparkles in the moonlight. A black bear visited the other night and finding our bird feeders safely locked away sat and moaned plaintively for several minutes before fading back into the forest. Whether she was crying over the missed meal or for some other private bear sadness is something we will never know.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSt09HzxalM/XzVeqjdgNfI/AAAAAAABjjM/tAUD6aWqU6YfkC1D3xaFxZC65K1qEpcHACPcBGAsYHg/s507/82800027_3.JPG" style="clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="507" data-original-width="467" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cSt09HzxalM/XzVeqjdgNfI/AAAAAAABjjM/tAUD6aWqU6YfkC1D3xaFxZC65K1qEpcHACPcBGAsYHg/w184-h200/82800027_3.JPG" style="border-width: 0px;" width="184" /></a></span></div><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">As I write this at my cabin desk, a ruby-throated hummingbird is sipping nectar from the flowers in the planter just outside my window. As he hovers, his wings beat 55 times a second so that even right before my eyes, his wings are a feathery blur. When he's had his fill, he zooms off at 75 beats a second. He courts his mate, who perches in a nearby tree, with a pendulum-like flight, rising 8-10 feet above and 5-6 feet to each side of her. Then they face each and alternately rise and descend ten feet into the air over and over again before discreetly disappearing into the grass to mate.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">The bird feeders around the cabin are visited by young families, including a pileated woodpecker mother, who brings her male offspring to feast on suet. He is bigger than she is, but ungainly and hesitant. He mostly clings to a nearby tree, begging to be fed and his mother obliges. Looking at these large, primitive-looking creatures, spectacular in their black and white plumage with bright red crests, is like looking back millions of years to the age of the dinosaurs, who most scientists think are the ancestors of birds. It is such a intriguing prospect to think that the dinosaurs never really went extinct, but are right overhead in our big oak trees.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">The pileated woodpeckers did all but disappear from Michigan when the state's old growth forests were cut down during the lumber boom of the 1800s. By 1871, all that remained of the habitat that the woodpeckers need to survive were the slash and debris from logging. A drought that summer over much of the Great Lakes region dragged on into October. Crops died in the fields; wells dried up and streams became mere trickles. Disaster struck when the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peshtigo_fire#:~:text=The%20Peshtigo%20fire%20was%20a,affected%20area%20was%20Peshtigo%2C%20Wisconsin." style="color: #0066cc;">Peshtigo, Wisconsin wildfire</a> killed somewhere between 1,200 to 2,500 people on the night of October 8 - the same night the great Chicago fire ignited. In Michigan on October 8, the many small blazes that had smoldered unattended for weeks joined to form a major wildfire that swept across the entire state, burning an estimated 2,000,000 acres and killing at least 200 people. Left behind in the aftermath was a state devoid not only of forests, but also of wildlife, birds, and even the fish in the rivers.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; text-align: start;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U76RMw9FiN0/XzVY-hnicJI/AAAAAAABjiI/gnS7SZd7nBkuNy0usidyLVP3HwqUXHJ7QCPcBGAsYHg/s1600/IMG_1392.JPG" style="clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1167" data-original-width="1600" height="146" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U76RMw9FiN0/XzVY-hnicJI/AAAAAAABjiI/gnS7SZd7nBkuNy0usidyLVP3HwqUXHJ7QCPcBGAsYHg/w200-h146/IMG_1392.JPG" style="border-width: 0px;" width="200" /></a></span></div><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">In the intervening 150 years, nature has returned to Michigan. The river we canoe, the Pere Marquette, is famous for its trout fishing and its autumn salmon run. The forest the river flows through is lush and its banks are abloom with wild Michigan lilies. On the nearby lake where we fish for bluegills, some evenings a solitary loon keeps us company. A beaver, taking advantage of the absence of forest managers who might impede his work, has felled trees and built an impressive dam that has reduced the flow at the outlet of the lake to a trickle. In the last couple of months, the lake has risen several feet and new grasses and beautiful pink smartweed are blooming along with the Monet-like waterlilies.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AYN6pHVd2SM/XzVYUxzHszI/AAAAAAABjh4/bnPS8tSzBtM1RBWoaL4rSAQyZv-UQ9oJwCPcBGAsYHg/s3264/IMG_1569.JPG" style="clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AYN6pHVd2SM/XzVYUxzHszI/AAAAAAABjh4/bnPS8tSzBtM1RBWoaL4rSAQyZv-UQ9oJwCPcBGAsYHg/w150-h200/IMG_1569.JPG" style="border-width: 0px;" width="150" /></a></span></div><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Growing up, Sundays at the beach were a hallmark of summer. It was an hour and a half drive on back roads through New Jersey farmland to the Atlantic Ocean - known in New Jersey as "going down the shore." When the beach was tauntingly close, you came to an old wooden bridge over Barnegat Bay, where traffic always backed up until finally you crossed the bridge with the boards rattling under the tires of the family car. For our beach experience now, we drive 40 minutes to Lake Michigan, an "ocean" without salt, where lighthouses dot the shores. Finding an isolated, uncrowded beach is easy, and in August, at least by Michigan standards, the water is pleasantly warm. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLIZynNFW24/XzVfSwPL8PI/AAAAAAABjjg/de-zHhdYS7YXjo7VVZZzf8PfRPxqy01_wCPcBGAsYHg/s4032/IMG_9565.JPG" style="clear: left; color: #0066cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2326" data-original-width="4032" height="185" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uLIZynNFW24/XzVfSwPL8PI/AAAAAAABjjg/de-zHhdYS7YXjo7VVZZzf8PfRPxqy01_wCPcBGAsYHg/w320-h185/IMG_9565.JPG" style="border-width: 0px;" width="320" /></a></span></div><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">For human company, we go five miles into the town of Baldwin where the twice-weekly <a href="http://www.baldwinsummerconcerts.org/" style="color: #0066cc;" target="_blank">outdoor concerts</a> have resumed. We bring our own chairs, wear masks and social distance. A good portion of the audience stays in their cars where they listen to the music on their car radios via a short-wave transmission. Applause is a chorus of horns honking. It's not the normal mingling, but still, it's comforting to see and talk to friends, even at a distance and music always soothes the soul. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">By the time we get back to the cabin, the barred owls are calling, the coyotes are howling and another day has ended.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Stay well. Keep washing your hands, wear those masks and social distance.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span face="" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1197" data-original-width="977" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBW8Ta79eac/XzWDUCmZqkI/AAAAAAABjp8/B2zXw15zakY1zsClMwmg9ROjdqWboHQAQCPcBGAsYHg/w163-h200/IMG_8542.JPG" width="163" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span face="" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">For more photos, click <a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipPCA1lB-DWh5rVDVuupg9a1wJPNLP5JHlU--dpbxvLg5S9uS9N1vZKCZf14ZwWpGA?key=enlxT0NOWHpEeHdMUF96Qjk5U1lDT3pxREUtZzhB" style="color: #0066cc;">here.</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: right;">Geraldine</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: right;"><br style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-size: 14.8274px;" /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-75059946785340464802019-03-15T06:42:00.000-04:002019-03-24T06:44:28.272-04:00Pigalle and the Moulin Rouge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On one of our first dates, JR and I drove into New York to hear some jazz. It was a frigid mid-winter night and we had a bit of a long walk from the parking lot to the jazz club. Wrapped up in the haze of our new love (and without the benefit of cell phones or GPS which had not yet been invented) we got turned around and discovered we had gone several blocks in the wrong direction. We came to a store whose display window featured knick knacks of no particular theme, but its windows were nice and steamy so we decided to go in and warm up. Once inside, JR pronounced it a nostalgia store. While he browsed in front, I stepped through a curtain into a bigger back room that was a veritable wonderland of sex toys. Never having been in such a shop, I was busily perusing the merchandise (mostly trying to figure out what it was) when JR entered. He took one look around, turned red as a beet and announced: "Let's get out of here. This is not a nostalgia shop!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I was reminded of this story on a recent walk on the nearby Boulevard de Clichy, which runs through the heart of the Pigalle district of Paris. Like most big cities, Paris is full of speciality shop neighborhoods. Not far from our apartment, for example, is a street of left-handed guitar stores. Pigalle's specialty is sex shops which take up several blocks of the wide, tree-lined boulevard. Most are small, with the exception of The Sexodrome, a vast pleasure supermarket that is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The street, named for the village of the same name to the northwest of Paris, was originally the road that connected the Roman city of Lutetia (as Paris was then known) to the sea. The area dubbed "Pig Alley" by Allied soldiers in World War II, is actually named after the French sculptor <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Baptiste_Pigalle" target="_blank">Jean-Baptiste Pigalle</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The neighborhood has had a reputation for easy living since at least the 1700s with the birth of the "folies," country homes surrounded by large gardens. Although many of these country homes were just that, others were libertine pleasure palaces where everyone from the king to rich businessmen would be gather for anything-goes weekends. Later, famous painters, including Degas, Toulouse-Lautrec and Picasso all lived on the street. The 1800s saw the opening of famous themed cabarets such as the side by side Cabarets of Heaven (Le Ciel) and Hell (L'Enfer) and the nearby Cabaret of Nothingness (Cabaret du Néant).<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14.875px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today, the Boulevard de Clichy is a busy, bustling thoroughfare. Every day, thousands of tourists cross the street to begin their trek up the hill to Montmartre. It's when darkness falls that the street becomes a carnival of light. Presiding over it all is the Moulin Rouge, with its signature red windmill. Celebrated in numerous Toulouse-Lautrec posters, the Moulin Rouge opened in 1899 at the height of the Belle Epoque period. It's the birthplace of the original can-can dance, which was performed by carefully-selected local courtesans, for mostly male patrons. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Moulin Rouge is still thriving. The 850-seat cabaret has two shows a night and is almost always full. Each year more than 600,000 people attend its shows, and 50 percent of the audience are women. A night out at the Moulin Rouge is not cheap. The price of a ticket can be as high as three hundred dollars, not including drinks and dinner. Still, most people exiting the Moulin Rouge after a show seem in good spirits and happy with the show.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Although the Moulin Rouge is a decidedly French icon, the female dancers are much more likely to be Australian than French. That's because, to dance at the cabaret, a female must be at least 5'9" (175cm). According to the Moulin Rouge, Australia "is a very good source of beautiful, long-legged girls." Apparently tall strong "boys" (at least 6'1", 185cm) are harder to come by in Australia since the majority of the 16 male dancers featured in the 60 member troupe are more likely to be Cuban, Spanish or Italian. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The Moulin Rouge conducts dance auditions all over the world. Finding a steady job in the dance world is not easy, and the turnout for these auditions is usually high. However, if you are thinking of trying out, you will have to have serious dance training in classical and advanced modern/jazz; meet the minimum height and physical requirements; and have a great stage presence and a bright personality. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The dance troupe performs two 105 minute shows, one at nine and one eleven p.m. It's a glamorous-looking occupation, where the dancers perform in hand-made shoes, clothed in sumptuous costumes of feathers, rhinestones and sequins, but performing and training can be grueling. The can-can is a dance that is fraught with injuries and everyone is expected to be able to perform it - with the exception of the topless dancers, who say not dancing the can-can is one of the perks of their jobs. In numerous television interviews and newspaper articles, many of the dancers say that in spite of their grueling schedule, they are happy to be dancing regularly, to be living in Paris and to be earning a decent if not extravagant wage. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Although the ambiance of Pigalle has not changed much over the years, signs of nearby gentrification are beginning to creep in. Just across the street from the famed music hall, on a site once occupied by the Cabarets of Heaven and Hell, is a Monoprix department store and an upscale natural food store. The neighborhood, however, has maintained its character for hundreds of years. The Moulin Rouge is thriving and in 2014 it celebrated its 125th anniversary. So, it seems that for now and probably for the foreseeable future, the vanes of its famous windmill will continue to turn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To see videos from the Moulin Rouge, click <a href="http://www.moulinrouge.fr/feerie-show?lang=en#video" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A bientôt, </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> (At a jazz club with JR)</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-38222878382044156262019-02-09T11:43:00.000-05:002019-02-10T04:49:06.536-05:00Paris - New Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Paris in February is usually a study in grey with rain that can dampen the spirits of even the city's most ardent admirers. And then comes one of those perfect, rare winter days when the sun shines brightly and you feel there is no place you would rather be. Today is such a day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We arrived in Paris recently for a two-month stay We left behind an arctic midwest, covered with snow and blinding in its sunny intensity. We're living in a new neighborhood, abandoning for this year the apartment we usually rent in the Marais. Instead, we are in a studio apartment in the 9th arrondissement, away from the Paris center that most tourists know. We love the Marais and the spacious apartment we rent, but we've been feeling a bit of wanderlust recently. So when a friend offered us the use of his studio apartment, we jumped at the chance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Compact is probably the best word to describe our new home. Everything, including a very serviceable kitchen, a dining, sitting and sleeping area are all in one room. The bathroom is modern and as big as the one in our Marais apartment, which is another way of saying pretty small. The apartment is bright and cheery. It's in a back courtyard so it's ultra quiet and it can be cleaned in under an hour, leaving a lot more time for exploring our new neighborhood. And today was a perfect day to begin.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-orv-aVS89Q3oJ3AHhPxZkxptGKmrMHD7sYDrKqRSqk3dz8aPEHA7Z6pQ4ZiXQVhxEsvp2DKBcGJ1z7WgMj00YnLdRLGWHjKh5qK-RwHCijYjoOgMQ-fCjAkUkE6Kzc18Ycd7QYwY_QB/s1600/IMG_7809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="1200" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM-orv-aVS89Q3oJ3AHhPxZkxptGKmrMHD7sYDrKqRSqk3dz8aPEHA7Z6pQ4ZiXQVhxEsvp2DKBcGJ1z7WgMj00YnLdRLGWHjKh5qK-RwHCijYjoOgMQ-fCjAkUkE6Kzc18Ycd7QYwY_QB/s320/IMG_7809.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I started out our front door on avenue Trudaine. It's a wide, tree-lined street with a spectacular view up the hill to Montmartre and the Basilica of Sacre Coeur. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Across the street from us is a high school and the garden of the Square d'Anvers. From 1810 to 1867, the site was home to the slaughterhouse of Montmartre. In 1810, in response to complaints from many Parisians, Napoleon ordered that the five <i>abattoir</i> located in central Paris be moved outside the city. At the time, avenue Trudaine was a country road and Montmartre was a small village with stone quarries and gypsum mines. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I walked down avenue Trudaine to the rue des Martyrs, famous since the 5th century when according to legend, St. Denis was beheaded there for preaching the Christian gospel. He promptly picked up his head and walked uphill, expiring many miles away at what is now the site of the Basilica St. Denis. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I did not follow in St. Denis footsteps, but rather walked downhill past the carousel on the Place Lino Ventura. On this sunny day, it was filled with young children and their delighted cries added to the pleasure of the morning. But who, I wondered, was Lino Ventura? In the interest of knowledge, I detoured to a nearby cafe for an internet search. Turns out Ventura was a well-known and very popular actor who appeared (mostly as a heavy) in dozens of French films. Ventura grew up in France, but he was born in Italy - most fittingly on Bastille Day, France's national day. I've noticed over the years that no matter how long I spend in France, there are always these cultural lapses, facts that I should know, but don't. But at least now, if Lino ever comes up in conversation, I'll be ready. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the last few years, there has been a lot of gentrification on the rue des Martyrs and the adjacent area of South Pigalle. Well on its way to becoming one of the hippest areas of Paris, the area even has a new name - SoPi. The change has been happening gradually since 2004, when concept hotels, trendy new restaurants and natural food stores began replacing many of the former adult film stores or rent-by-the-hour hotels. </span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6LNwqZbWWUA/XF7_tdqPWGI/AAAAAAABZCs/gBofNBNyD3QJZpm_D09HcV_KsoR6PdmTQCLcBGAs/s1600/Paris%2B-2029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="150" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6LNwqZbWWUA/XF7_tdqPWGI/AAAAAAABZCs/gBofNBNyD3QJZpm_D09HcV_KsoR6PdmTQCLcBGAs/s200/Paris%2B-2029.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The same change is evident on the rue des Martyrs, where several of the old stores have been replaced by more upscale cousins. The most recent demise is Le Bouquinaire, a pleasant jumble of a bookstore that has been in business for 33 years. Now a sign on the window announces: "Everything must go." In spite of the changes, the street retains much of its small town charm. Many of the stores still cater to everyday needs, including shoe repair, a lock store and an hardware store. There are several fish, vegetable and meat markets, although the shops selling horse meat and tripe have been replaced with others selling olive oil, jam or chocolate. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I browsed in dozens of small stores, restaurants, bakeries and cafes whiling away the day. Ive decided to try out a cafe a day until I find my favorite. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A lot of the fun of being in a new neighborhood is not knowing what is around the next corner. You can wander about, going where your fancy takes you. Inevitably you get lost, but that is part of the pleasure. You see a restaurant or a cafe or a bakery and realize you are hungry or thirsty or just need a rest. You choose one and go in. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A la prochaine,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Geraldine</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-10602900664155938542018-04-12T06:04:00.000-04:002018-04-20T03:39:42.983-04:00Triumphal Restoration in Pisa<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">A portion of <i>il Trionfo della Morte</i>, Campo Santo, Pisa</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just outside of Pisa, where the buildings of the town begin to give way to fields, sits a very large building that looks like an ordinary storage warehouse, except for the high wall around it topped by barbed wire. For the last nine years, this building has been home to some of the greatest art treasures of the Medieval world - the frescoes of the <a href="http://www.opapisa.it/en/square-of-miracles/camposanto/" target="_blank">Campo Santo</a> of Pisa. During those nine years, a team of art restorers has worked tirelessly to restore these 13th-century frescoes, which were severely damaged during the Second World War. The </span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">team includes a Who's Who of the art restoration world, including Antonio Paolucci, the former director of the Vatican Museums, and Gian Luigi Colalucci, the restorer of the Sistine Chapel. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On June 17, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Il Trionfo della Morte</i> by Buonamico Buffalmacco, the last and one of the greatest of the frescoes, will be put back in place in the Campo Santo. Then, </span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"the Sistine Chapel of Pisa," as </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Paolucci, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">has called it, will once again be complete. </span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D4nMB49bzEc/Ws3rRDgFxHI/AAAAAAABWBc/4nW_Me-u73EpCYeQHoK3wG73kFnAB0TGwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6385.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="1200" height="152" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D4nMB49bzEc/Ws3rRDgFxHI/AAAAAAABWBc/4nW_Me-u73EpCYeQHoK3wG73kFnAB0TGwCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_6385.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Recently I was invited by </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">the <a href="http://www.opapisa.it/en/" target="_blank">Opera Della Primaziale</a>,</span></span><i style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"> </i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">the non-profit group in charge of monuments in Pisa,<i> </i></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">to view </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"The Triumph of Death"</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> up close and to learn about the restoration process. On hand were were a small group of academics, art historians and restorers.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> (In the laboratory, the panels of the frescoes are not yet joined together, but will be when the fresco is reinstalled.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1E_S2-UbSd0/Ws3ubu1NY7I/AAAAAAABWB8/clcP-SiwAqgN3I0S5bCH8w7TROJDvNU5QCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1E_S2-UbSd0/Ws3ubu1NY7I/AAAAAAABWB8/clcP-SiwAqgN3I0S5bCH8w7TROJDvNU5QCLcBGAs/s200/IMG_6387.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Amid the scenes of everyday medieval life in the fresco, death is ever present. Even while nobles take pleasure in the hunt and young people enjoy themselves in a garden, a nearby demon is busy snatching the soul from the mouth of a recently-deceased woman. Overhead, scores of hellish and heavenly figures wrestle for the souls of the newly departed. It's message to the believer is that death comes to all, noble or peasant, rich or poor. It's the ultimate warning that actions have consequences.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Campo Santo in Pisa was once more famous than the city's Leaning Tower. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Begun in 1277, its purpose was to provide, "a large and dignified, secluded and enclosed space" for graves and ancient sarcophagi, which previously were scattered somewhat haphazardly around the cathedral. The Crusaders are said to have brought tons of earth from the Holy Land back to Pisa for this monumental cemetery, thus its name as the holy field. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Gleaming white marble was chosen for the outer walls of the Campo Santo. Its inner walls were adorned with 20,000 feet of luminous frescoes by renowned artists of the time, including Francesco Traini, Buonamico Buffalmacco and Benozzi Gozzoli. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then during the Second World War, on the hot summer evening of the 27th of July 1944, in the course of a battle between German and American forces, a stray American artillery shell struck the roof of the Campo Santo. An article in the Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs, published in February 1945, described the event as follows:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">..a fire broke out immediately above Benozzi Gozzoli's painting of fire and brimstone raining down upon Sodom. Fanned by a westerly breeze, the fire spread through the dry roof timbers; there was no water because the Pisan mains had been cut some days before; the few Italian volunteers on the spot were unable to breach the roof sufficiently to stop the flames....In four hours the whole cloister roof had been burned. Blazing beams crashed against the frescoed-wall surfaces; molten lead ran down upon the pavement and on to the marble monuments ranged along the walls, cracking them with the heat. </span></blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtrAy2xJiMBUH6_LmjGgY6GSKhxdOTJTi-naDS-_hbDa5IZo9n5jd7Ta6yiY5w4HVfE0RZ0Ezsrjlq4RaQNcUWhJA4m997irRtVPHt6aSKNHApTcjMmIh7Jfc10VAtHe23bPI36rtAJmq/s1600/IMG_6394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtrAy2xJiMBUH6_LmjGgY6GSKhxdOTJTi-naDS-_hbDa5IZo9n5jd7Ta6yiY5w4HVfE0RZ0Ezsrjlq4RaQNcUWhJA4m997irRtVPHt6aSKNHApTcjMmIh7Jfc10VAtHe23bPI36rtAJmq/s400/IMG_6394.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Conditions in the city were so bad and building material so scarce that it seemed impossible that the frescoes could be saved. Unlike Florence, which was given special protective status by the allies during the war, Pisa was heavily bombed. Nonetheless, Italian restorers and ordinary citizens began work immediately, gathering up thousands of pieces of the frescoes and constructing whatever protective coverings they could. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">They were greatly helped in their efforts by the arrival of <a href="https://www.monumentsmenfoundation.org/intl/it/the-heroes/the-monuments-men/keller-capt.-deane" target="_blank">Deane Keller</a>, a captain in the Monuments, Fine Arts and Archive division of the U.S. Army. Keller's job was to protect and salvage art and monuments in Italy. One of the famous Monuments Men, Keller, with a small team aided by Italian army personnel and fresco specialists, managed to protect the Campo Santo and prepare it for later restoration. After the war, Keller returned to the US and to a professorship at Yale University. He died in 1992 and, in gratitude for his efforts, his ashes now repose in the Campo Santo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Restoration continued over the years. Some frescoes were only slightly damaged; others were in thousands of pieces scattered about the burned ruins. The pieces were tirelessly fitted together and replaced on the walls, but the frescoes retained only a hint of their former glory.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In 2008, after years of debate, the decision was finally taken to remove all the frescoes of the Campo Santo for restoration. Intensive research was done before any physical work could begin. Restorers knew that g</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">lues and resins used in previous restoration work had often done more harm to the frescoes than the fire. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Although a roof covers the fresco galleries, they are open to the interior central square. Moisture and condensation are a constant problem.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To solve the moisture problem, restorers used specially developed heating grids behind the frescoes that automatically react to changes in outside temperatures, preventing condensation. Although p</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">revious restorers could not remove the old glue and resin without irremediably damaging the frescoes, today's restorers have new materials at their command.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> N</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">atural bacteria, </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">pseudomonas stutzeri, </i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> applied to the frescoes, eat the old resins and glue without damaging the paint underneath. Then, their work finished, the bacteria die - unwitting heroes in the service of art.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">For an hour, we visitors were given the opportunity to look at the fresco up close, to photograph it, and to talk to the restorers. Every action these experts take must be based on facts at their disposal. Some things - the original brightness of a color, the disappeared words on a banner - cannot always be known. And so, there are gaps in the fresco, missing pieces that can't be filled in. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The restorers have made the most reasoned decisions possible. They have done their very best, but none of them think they have returned the frescoes to their ancient splendor. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some of the effects of time and war can never be undone. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ciao,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;">Click <a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/hUf5r59ykJfDCZvG2" target="_blank">here</a> to see more photos</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;">Click </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7aeY6Z2VZ6g" style="font-size: medium; text-align: justify;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-size: small; text-align: justify;"> to see a video of the Campo Santo.</span></span></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-17160748251587551922016-12-15T14:30:00.004-05:002017-11-16T21:51:30.282-05:00Road Trip USA, Part 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Basin and Range, Nevada<br />
To see more photos, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/1ZdR3uitYoDKPopQ7" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Part 3, Snowmass Colorado to Portland Oregon</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the United States, Labor Day Weekend marks the official end of summer, and nearly 30 million travelers celebrate the three-day weekend with a final road trip. We left Snowmass on the third leg of our cross-country journey on the day after Labor Day. Traffic was gone and children (not that we have anything against them) were safely back in their classrooms. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The open road stretched before us across Colorado and Utah and into Nevada, where we would be setting up camp at <a href="https://www.nps.gov/grba/index.htm" target="_blank">Great Basin National Park</a>. It's about a seven-hour drive, but we took a lot longer because the scenery is so spectacular that we found it impossible to pass by a single viewing spot. At every stop, you gaze out on the splendid effects of hundreds of millions of years of geological history. At the San Rafael Swell in central Utah, we could actually see where the earth's crust has been heaved up and then sculpted by time into jagged cliffs and deep slot canyons. To learn more about the geology of the area, read John McPhee's <i>Basin and Range</i>. You can read an excerpt <a href="http://web.mit.edu/allanmc/www/mcphee.pdf" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">An information plaque told us of a darker history of the area, of a time when Native Americans were captured and sold into <a href="http://historytogo.utah.gov/utah_chapters/pioneers_and_cowboys/slaveryinutah.html" target="_blank">slavery</a>. Another contained the lament of a Mormon woman, railing against the "wretched men who have sent us out to colonize this cursed landscape." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The <a href="https://www.nps.gov/grba/planyourvisit/the-great-basin.htm" target="_blank">Great Basin</a> covers parts of five states. The road sign on Route 21 leading west toward the park warned us of "no services" for the next 70 miles. No services turned out to mean no towns, no gas stations, no houses, no people, nothing but endless sage-covered valleys and narrow mountain ranges. Awe-inspiring but also a bit frightening in its isolation, the vista before us made it easy to imagine the dread of that long-ago Mormon woman.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We'd come to the park on the recommendation of our friend Stephanie, who grew up in the house next door to us in Ann Arbor. Her husband, Steve, is the park's superintendent. A glacier-carved marvel, Great Basin's beauty begins underground in its otherworldly limestone and marble <a href="https://www.nps.gov/grba/learn/historyculture/lehman-caves-history.htm" target="_blank">Lehman Caves</a>, and ends at the tip of the 13,063 foot high Wheeler Peak.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> The ecosystem in between is so diverse that on the Park's 12-mile scenic drive, you traverse the same variety of environments as on a road trip from Nevada to the Yukon. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Two things Great Basin doesn't have are bears and mosquitoes, which, in itself, is reason enough to go there. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: medium;">(To read about our earlier encounter with bears, click <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.com/2010/08/bears-in-night.html" target="_blank">here</a> to read Travel Oyster's "Bears in the Night.")</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We arrived late and pitched our tent in Baker Creek Campground, right next to the babbling brook. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">After dinner, we sat in a clearing and watched as night descended.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Great Basin has some of the darkest night skies in the United States, providing the perfect background for stargazing. During the summer, there are astronomy programs, but tonight we were alone with the stars, millions of them shining brightly, forming constellations, and tumbling through the endless sky. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Not nearly as old as the stars, but among the oldest living organisms on earth are the park's 2,000 to 3,000-year-old Bristlecone Pines. Oddly enough, the trees live just at the tree line where conditions are harshest. A paean to the beauty of old age, the time-sculpted trees would nonetheless be perfectly at home in a museum of modern art. We ate a picnic lunch among the pines, and then hiked up to the park's spectacular rock glacier. From its lofty heights, you can see for miles down the mountain to the basin and on to the next range of mountains.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The next day we drove in to Baker, the very small town just outside the Park, where</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> JR gave a math talk to the enthusiastic students in the one-room schoolhouse. That evening Steve and Stephanie brought elk burgers to our campsite and we cooked them over a wood fire. Afterward, Steve treated us to a personal tour of Lehman Caves, a geological wonder discovered in the 1880s. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">On our last day in the park, we hiked six miles to Baker Lake to do some trout fishing. It's a tough 3,000 foot climb, but we were rewarded with beautiful views, fall colors and a silently flying <a href="https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Northern_Goshawk/lifehistory" target="_blank">Goshawk</a> who glided by us practically at eye level. When we arrived at the lake, a Golden Eagle lifted up from the shore and best of all, the lake was alive with feeding trout. The water is so crystal clear that we could see the trout racing each other across the lake to snap up our fly. Dinner that night was fresh grilled fish. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We left the next day bound via a circuitous route for Portland Oregon. Our first stop was the <a href="https://www.nps.gov/crmo/learn/index.htm" target="_blank">Craters of the Moon</a> National Monument in Idaho, a 52-mile stretch of fantastical black lava fields. Remnants of </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">an ocean of volcanic rock that once covered 618 square miles (1600 sq. km), they began forming 15,000 years ago when a</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> long series of eruptions caused lava to well up from the <a href="http://imnh.isu.edu/digitalatlas/geo/greatrft/greatrft.htm" target="_blank">Great Rift</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We spent the night in a motel (with showers) in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arco,_Idaho" target="_blank">Arco</a>, Idaho. It was there in 1951, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">thanks to the nearby National Reactor Testing Station, that Arco became the </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">first town in the world to be lit by electricity generated entirely by nuclear power. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Next, we headed in a northern arc through the Sawtooth Mountains. Unfortunately, a huge wildfire had preceded us and burned more than 65,000 acres of national forest. Our sadness at the destruction of the forest was softened by a campground on the Middle Fork of the Payette River, with perfect hot springs where we soaked after breakfast. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our last stop was a remote spot in eastern Oregon </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">recommended by our son for its beauty and</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"> great trout fishing. Without his detailed instructions, we would never have found this place on the edge of Oregon's Wallowa Mountains. Apparently no one else could find it either. The beautiful, six-site campground was empty so we picked the best campsite and fished for two days under beautiful sunny skies, keeping just enough fish for our evening meals.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then it was on to Portland for the best part of the whole trip - the birth of our our first grandchild. The other grandparents, who just happen to be our dear friends Gerard and Marcelle, flew in from Paris, making it a special family time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">(Long-time readers of Travel Oyster may remember Marcelle as my partner in several Travel Oyster adventures, such as <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.com/2010/03/the-biggest-show-in-paris.html" target="_blank">Biggest Show in Paris</a>, <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.com/2014/01/paris-under-paris.html" target="_blank">Paris Under Paris </a>and <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.com/2011/01/path-of-impressionists.html" target="_blank">The Path of the Impressionists</a>, among others.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To see more photos, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/1ZdR3uitYoDKPopQ7" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-36163622066440911832016-11-29T10:46:00.003-05:002017-11-16T21:50:44.299-05:00Road Trip USA, Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We left Denver on a fine, late-summer day heading to Snowmass. Instead of the Interstate highway, we opted for <a href="http://www.topoftherockiesbyway.org/" target="_blank">"The Top of the Rockies National Scenic and Historic Byway."</a> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The byway winds through an area whose recent history is written in its place names - Cooper Mountain, Leadville, Gold Dust Mountain - names that attest to the area's mining boom in the late 1800s. The land was traditionally the hunting grounds of the Ute Indian tribe and before them to hunter gatherers stretching back to prehistoric times.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YJ0aU-E58Xg/WC38yppsZ5I/AAAAAAAARfM/n3WYPs50l48gyH00iXMhTW3gIGqOd26ngCLcB/s1600/IMG_3148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YJ0aU-E58Xg/WC38yppsZ5I/AAAAAAAARfM/n3WYPs50l48gyH00iXMhTW3gIGqOd26ngCLcB/s320/IMG_3148.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One hundred and fifteen miles long from end to end, the byway leads up and over the Rocky Mountains through Independence Pass and then down into Aspen Colorado. Although well paved, the road's hairpin turns and precipitous drop-offs make for slow going, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">but slowing down and getting off the beaten path is the essence of the Great American Road Trip. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As we climbed, clouds rolled in and the temperature dropped, but we were spared the summer storms and snow that can fall on any day of the year. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The byway is the highest paved state highway in Colorado, reaching its apex of 12,096 feet at Independence Pass and the Continental Divide. We stopped and hiked out beyond the crowded viewing site. From our wind-swept, treeless, westward-facing vantage point, we could see the line of mountains where the waters of the continent part ways. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the natural course of events, all the rivers and lakes to the east of the Rocky Mountains flow to the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean; all those to the west flow to the Gulf of California and the Pacific Ocean. In the West, as in many parts of the world where water has become the new gold, nature has very little say over rivers. In Colorado, 80 percent of the precipitation falls on the western side of the Rockies, but 80 percent of the population lives on the eastern side. Huge tunnels, dug through the mountains, divert the river waters from one side and move it to the other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Just a few miles from Independence Pass are the headwaters of the Roaring Fork River. According to the Colorado Water Trust, "at times, more than 90 percent of the native flow of the Roaring Fork is diverted from the river for trans-mountain delivery to the Front Range." The mighty Colorado River, which provides water to 40 million people in seven western states, is dammed and diverted in so many places that today only one percent of its water actually reaches the sea. </span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">None of this diminished state is obvious to us as we drive down the mountain toward Aspen, crossing and recrossing the Roaring Fork. It is</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> a beautiful, fast-flowing stream, known for its great trout fishing, and farther downstream for its white water rafting. As we descend, the wind-swept, treeless summit gives way to confer forests and then to the delicate quaking aspen trees that give the town its name. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Like many towns in the region, Aspen got its start as a mining town. By 1891, the town had railway and tram lines, electrical power throughout the city, and a municipal water system. Fancy hotels, restaurants, and an opera house lined its downtown. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Aspen was flooding the market with silver, producing one-sixteenth of all the silver mined in the world. Under pressure from influential mine owners to keep prices high, the US Government enacted the Sherman Silver Purchase Act. During its three years of existence, the Act required the US Treasury to make a monthly purchase at market price of 4,500,000 ounces of silver.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">When the Act was repealed in 1893, the silver market crashed and Aspen began its decline into what are known as "The Quiet Years." Then after World War II, veterans of the Army's <a href="http://www.drum.army.mil/AboutFortDrum/Pages/hist_10thMountainHistory_lv3.aspx" target="_blank">Tenth Mountain Division</a> brought the rapidly growing sport of alpine skiing to Aspen Mountain. They used their war-gained skiing experience to lay out ski trails, and build ski lodges and lifts. With its abundant, feather-light snow, and a beautiful town at its feet, it was an area just waiting to be developed. Today, it's a world-class skiing resort. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Other towns were not so lucky. On our way down the mountain, we passed <a href="http://aspenhistory.org/tours-sites/independence-ghost-town/" target="_blank">Independence</a>, the first thriving community in the Roaring Fork Valley. Today it's a ghost town, maintained by the Aspen Historical Society. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As we drove through Aspen on this late August, day, the town was uncrowded and lovely - a bit like a college town when the students are not there. We drove on, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">headed for nearby Snowmass, where we are lucky enough to have family. No roughing it for us - our nights for the next week would be spent in a lovely, soft bed with spectacular views of the mountains just out the window. Hiking, biking and lots of good food and good times were on the menu. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">To read more about the Aspen/Snowmass area and to see photos, check out this Travel Oyster Blog, </span><a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.com/2009/08/colorado-outdoors.html" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Colorado Outdoors</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Next we'll be heading across Utah and on to Great Basin National Park in Nevada where the real outdoor adventure begins.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Our route - starting in black and returning in yellow. 6,500 miles (10,500 km)</span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-40433270099779643032016-11-04T15:33:00.000-04:002017-11-16T21:49:40.227-05:00Road Trip USA, Part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Our route - starting in black and returning in yellow. 6,500 miles (10,500 km)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Part 1 - Ann Arbor Michigan to Denver Colorado</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">There is a famous old American advertisement that features Dinah Shore singing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qhR8GZ_WWMM" target="_blank">"See the USA in your Chevrolet."</a> The ad is designed to sell Chevys, but it also encapsulates the dream of lots of Americans to jump in their car and take to the open road. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last February, when JR and I learned that we would be grandparents for the first time, we knew that come September we would be in Portland Oregon for the big event. Whenever we visit Portland, we fly across the country, catching only glimpses of wide-open plains and high mountain peaks. This time, why not unearth our trusty two-person tent, pack the car and hit the road? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So late in August, with a borrowed car-top carrier and the entire car stuffed with camping and fishing equipment, strollers, high chair and other baby paraphernalia, we left Ann Arbor bound for our first real stop, Colorado. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(To read Travel Oyster's Ann Arbor blog, click <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.com/2009/10/ann-arbor-traveling.html" target="_blank">here</a>.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">We began by traversing the rolling hills of southern Michigan; skirting the edge of Lake Michigan; bypassing Chicago near the once-great, but now down-trodden steel town of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gary,_Indiana" target="_blank">Gary</a>, Indiana; and rolling on through Illinois, Iowa and into Nebraska. For a good part of this segment of our trip, we were on Interstate Route 80, a transcontinental highway that begins in Teaneck, New Jersey and ends 2,900 miles (4,668 km) later in San Francisco, California. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Driving 1,228 miles (1,976 Km) in two days doesn't leave much time for photos or sightseeing As a result, all I remember of Iowa are the themed highway </span><a href="http://www.ctre.iastate.edu/pubs/midcon2003/mastellerrest.pdf" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank">rest stops</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> set amidst endless fields of corn. In 2015, Iowa farmers grew 2.5 </span><i style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">billion </i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">bushels of corn, making it the #1 corn-producing state in the US. If you're looking for a nice sweet ear for your campfire dinner, however, you can pretty much forget it since only one percent of all those bushels is grown for human consumption. The rest is used for fuel, animal feed and a surprising number of other </span><a href="http://www.bcps.org/offices/lis/models/slamdunks/amaizeingdebate/Assignment_9_McCall_Products_That_Use_Corn.pdf" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank">products</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">, from automobile spark plugs to toothpaste. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We tested our camping skills that first night at the Platte River State Park between Omaha and Lincoln, Nebraska's two biggest cities. Fittingly, we set up camp not too far from what was once The Great Platte River Road. Originally a Native American trail, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">the road was a convergence point </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">in the mid 1800s f</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">or several westward trails, including the Mormon Trail, the California Trail, and the Pony Express Trail. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">During its peak years of 1841 to 1866, an estimated 250,000 travelers followed the road heading west. Today's Route 80 runs over a portion of the trail. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uVhN6xnhwSk/WBuSk1G4AbI/AAAAAAAARbc/gCYi27nJik8tRWiFzULI3QKUrQQXIzQ0ACLcB/s1600/IMG_3256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uVhN6xnhwSk/WBuSk1G4AbI/AAAAAAAARbc/gCYi27nJik8tRWiFzULI3QKUrQQXIzQ0ACLcB/s200/IMG_3256.JPG" width="141" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Even though it was still August, the park was empty and we had our choice of campsites. Our dinner was <a href="https://fishpeopleseafood.com/" target="_blank">Fish people's</a> wild salmon in chardonnay sauce, which we served over couscous. The Oregon company uses only American wild-caught fish from sustainable species. To prove it, you can even trace the origins of your very own fish on their website Fishpeople dinners are great for busy professionals, but the vacuum-packed meals, ready after three minutes in boiling water, make perfect and delicious camping food. It rained during the night, but our tent, older than I care to admit, kept us dry and comfortable. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Nebraska is sometimes referred to as the state where the West begins. As you drive westward, you leave behind the green, gently rolling hills and enter the High Plains, an area of semi-arid range land dotted with cows as far as the eye can see. The State has</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> more than three times as many cows as people (1,868,515 humans, 6,150,000 cows). It ranks second only to South Dakota where the ratio is more than 4 to 1. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As we dipped southward into Colorado, the road continued to climb. By dinnertime, we pulled into <a href="http://www.denver.org/" target="_blank">Denver</a>. The city came into existence in the 1858 Colorado Gold Rush with the arrival of 107 prospectors. The party set up camp on Cherry Creek at what is now Confluence Park in downtown Denver. By the next year, <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Horace-Greeley" target="_blank">Horace Greeley</a>, the American newspaper editor, described Denver as a "log city of 150 dwellings, not three-fourths completed, nor two-thirds inhabited, nor one-third fit to be." </span><span style="background-color: #f7f1e1; font-family: "verdana w01 regular" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">By 1861, the gold rush was over and Denver, like many other towns in the area, could have become a ghost town. Events certainly seemed to be conspiring against it. Over the next few years, the town's business district burned to the ground; Cherry Creek flooded, killing 20 and causing millions of dollars of damage; and an Indian war broke out, cutting off Denver's supplies. Somehow Denver survived and continued to reinvent itself. By 1870, it was thriving as a western railroad service and supply center. The town had </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">an opera house, luxury hotels and a millionaire's row of mansions. It's mile-high setting with a stunning backdrop of the Rocky Mountains continues to attract newcomers, and today, Denver is the one of the fastest-growing big cities in America. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We spent the weekend with our nephew Josh and his finance Carolyn in nearby Aurora. A senior draftsman with a local science and technology company by day, Josh is a guitarist by night in the regionally-popular rock band Stereoshifter. You can check out their music </span><a href="http://stereoshifter.bandcamp.com/music" style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Stereoshifter wasn't playing on the Saturday we were visiting, so we decided to spend the evening in downtown Denver. We took the light rail train in Aurora and arrived about 20 minutes later at Union Station in the heart of downtown. For its 100th birthday in 2014, the station underwent a $54 million renovation. Amtrak trains and light rail trains arrive at the station's lower level while the main lobby has been turned into what the planners call Denver's living room. In spite of its 65,000 square-foot size, the Beaux-Arts lobby has an intimate feel with tasteful groupings of sofas, wing chairs and soft lighting. Travelers with suitcases and groups of Saturday night revelers mingle together, sipping locally-made craft beer; working on computers; or waiting for a table at one of the station's many restaurants. The station also hosts lots of locally-owned stores; an artisan food market; and the lobby of the elegant Crawford Hotel. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Our dinner reservation was at nearby <a href="http://www.vestagrill.com/" target="_blank">Vesta</a>, a restaurant known for its grilled meats, accompanied by a selection of dipping sauces. Maybe it was a reaction to all those cows we had seen that led me to order garlic grilled scallops, but, to my pleasant surprise, they were among the best I have ever eaten. When we mentioned that we were celebrating Josh and Carolyn's engagement, the waiter quickly arrived with congratulations and complimentary glasses of champagne. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the attractions of Denver is that it is a big city with beautiful nearby nature. On Sunday, we explored <a href="http://redrocksonline.com/the-park/recreation/trails" target="_blank">Red Rocks Park.</a> Once a traditional Ute tribe camping ground, the area is filled with fantastical red sandstone outcrops. In 1941, the City of Denver added the Red Rocks Amphitheater, an outdoor concert venue. The day we were there, the Amphitheater was featuring <i>Reggae on the Rocks</i> and by mid-afternoon, the natural beauty of the red rocks was augmented by the colorful outfits of thousands of reggae fans. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We bid goodbye to Josh and Carolyn the next morning, but we'll be back in Denver next June for their wedding. Ahead of us was a crossing of the Continental Divide and our next stops, Snowmass Colorado and Great Basin National Park in Nevada.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To be continued...</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-44692777977027116262015-03-19T10:45:00.001-04:002024-02-26T10:16:34.723-05:00A Flâneur in Paris<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Springlike weather arrived in Paris last weekend and with it came the urge to imitate Baudelaire's <i><a href="https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/flaneur">flâneur</a>,</i> strolling idly around Paris, watching people and admiring the city. Since this<i> </i><i>flâneur</i> loves company, I invited JR to join me in my wanderings.<br />
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We cheated a bit by beginning our day not on foot, but on Line 1 of the metro. The city's first line, it opened in 1900 to take passengers to the various sites of the <i>Exposition Universelle,</i> the world's fair that was held that year in Paris. The line's present-day, 16.4 km length connects the 14th-century <i>Chateau des Vincennes</i> at its eastern end with the ultra-modern skyscrapers of <i>La Defense</i> at the western end. From our stop in the center of town, we took the line about half its distance to the <i>Les Sablons</i> stop, just outside the <i>Bois de Boulogne</i>. A former hunting ground for the kings of France, the <i>Bois de Boulogne</i> is now a wooded public park with miles of hiking, equestrian and bike trails. There are lakes, playing fields, picnic areas, children's playgrounds and the famous Autueil and Longchamp horse racing tracks.<br />
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The park's newest attraction is the <i><a href="http://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/la-fondation.html">Fondation Louis Vuitton</a>,</i> a private museum and cultural center that opened in 2014. Built by the luxury-goods company <a href="http://www.lvmh.com/">LVMH</a>, it is one of only a handful of private museums in France. The building was designed by the architect <a href="http://www.achievement.org/autodoc/page/geh0bio-1">Frank Gehry</a>, whose works include among many others, the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao and the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. Covered with 112 soaring, curved glass panels, the structure resembles an enormous, dreamlike sailboat. Its location at the extreme edge of Paris might seem an odd choice but, in fact, the company also owns the concessions of the nearby <i>Jardin d'Acclimation, </i>a children's amusement park. The garden, a modern masterpiece in its own time, was opened in the <i>Bois de Boulogne</i> in 1860 by the Emperor Napoleon III. A blending of the modernization of Paris by Baron Georges Eugene <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/1991/03/24/arts/architecture-view-baron-haussmann-urban-designer-par-excellence.html">Haussmann</a> and a growing public interest in zoology, it housed a large zoo among its other attractions. <br />
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By 11 a.m., the line to enter the museum was already long. Even with its beautiful, light-filled spaces, it was too nice a day to be inside so we decided to leave the interior visit for another time. Instead, we walked around the outside of the building to see it from different angles. Because of the many surrounding trees, it's difficult to get a view of the entire building from afar. As we strolled along one of the park's many paths, the gleaming manmade structure disappeared from view, giving way to the beauty of the forest.<br />
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From the park, we headed east into the high-rent, residential neighborhood of the 16th arrondissement. Originally made up of the rural villages of Auteuil and Passy, the area only became part of Paris in 1860 under the modernization project of the city by Napoleon III and Baron Haussmann. Since it was lunchtime, I consulted my downloaded version of the Paris guidebook, <i>Les bonnes tables à petits prix. </i>The guide, which was recommended to me by a friend, lists good, reasonably-priced restaurants all over Paris. It is published by the same group that produces the weekly journal <i>L'Itinérant, </i>which is sold on the streets of Paris by 700 venders, most of whom come from the City's homeless population. The same venders sell the restaurant guide, which is also available online. Among the 22 restaurants listed for the 16th, we chose <a href="http://www.delpapa.fr/">Del Pappa</a><i> </i>on the avenue Malakoff. Not long afterward, we were seated at a lovely table by the window digging into a delicious pizza.<br />
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After lunch, we decided to walk down the Avenue de la Grande Armée until we were tired and then we could take the metro home. But who ever tires of Paris? The <i>Avenue de la Grande Armée</i> was created under the reign of Louis XV in 1668 to give the king a better view from his palace in the Tuileries. The only obstruction was a hill on the site of today's <i>Place Charles deGaulle-Etoile</i>. When you are king, however, all problems can be solved. The hill was removed and the king got a lovely 15-kilometer view into the surrounding countryside. Today that long view leads to the <a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/paris-museum-monument/71478/Grande-Arche-de-la-D%C3%A9fense">Grande Arche</a>, with the modern skyscrapers of La Defense rising like Oz behind it. Fittingly, the avenue that once led to the wide open spaces is today lined with the headquarters of automobile and bicycle companies. <br />
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Next stop was the <i><a href="http://www.arcdetriompheparis.com/">Arc de Triomphe</a>, </i>commissioned by the Emperor Napoleon in 1808 following his great victory at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Austerlitz">Austerlitz</a>. Our route was the same one Napoleon took in 1810 when he entered Paris in triumph with his bride Marie Louise of Austria at his side. At that time, only the foundation had been built so Napoleon and Marie Louise passed under a wooden model that had been specially constructed for the occasion. Napoleon would never see the finished monument. He died in exile in 1821, 19 years before the <i>Arc de Triomphe</i> was completed. Today, the monument honors those who fought for France, especially in the Napoleonic wars. It also contains the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier from World War I, a war that killed approximately 1,350,000 French soldiers.<br />
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Of the 12 streets that radiate out from the <i>Arc de Triomphe</i>, the Champs Elysées is by far the most famous. In contrast to today's imposing wide boulevard, the street began life as a swampy, uninhabited area. Well into the 1700s, it was considered a dangerous neighborhood with mediocre bars full of ruffians, prostitutes and thieves. Gentrification did not begin in earnest until about 1790 when fancy cafes began to replace the dingy bars. Sumptuous residences were built and the gardens expanded. By the 1900s, the luxury stores had moved in. It's these stores as much as the fame of the area that draw millions of people to the Champs Elysées each year. In my role as a <i>flaneur, </i>I looked about and saw a seemingly fair representation of all the nationalities on earth. In the outside world, they may have their differences, but here on the Champs Elysées, clutching their elegant shopping bags, they all seemed united in a happy state of consumerism.<br />
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Borne along on this tidal wave of good cheer, we passed by the metro station at the Place de la Concorde and continued into the <i>Jardin des Tuileries</i>. The gardens were commissioned by Queen Catherine de Medici in 1559, and were used by royalty for several centuries before becoming public gardens at the time of the French Revolution. As we walked into the gardens, we saw that they had been taken over by another group of French royals - fashion models. Strolling about the gardens in impossibly high stilettos, the models, clad in the latest creations of the great fashion houses, were followed by hordes of photographers and spectators. We strolled in their wake, unobserved, which is just what a good flaneur should be.<br />
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By this time, we were only a mile or two from our apartment. Ahead of us lay the Louvre, Notre Dame and the Isle St. Louis. It was our last weekend in Paris for this year so we walked on, trying to savor it all.<br />
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To see more photos, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/iRXopcT2iSTEkyH28" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-1617852769071714492015-02-18T04:05:00.000-05:002016-12-16T14:22:20.413-05:00Grenoble - Capital of the Alps<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We left Paris on a rare bright sunny day, bound for Grenoble in Southeast France. Just three hours from Paris by TGV, <a href="https://www.google.fr/maps/place/Grenoble/@45.1841656,5.7155425,13z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m2!3m1!1s0x478af48bd689be6f:0x618c10cd6e995398">Grenoble</a> sits on a vast plain at the confluence of the Isère and Drac rivers. Only 214 meters (702 ft.) above sea level, Grenoble is the flatest city in France. That might sound like a dubious distinction, but in the case of Grenoble, it provides a perfect viewing site for the majestic peaks of the French Alps which surround the city. The writer <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2991757/">Stendahl</a>, talking about his hometown, said that at the end of every street in Grenoble, there is a mountain. It was already dark when we arrived so that view would have to wait. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A short walk from the train station took us to the <a href="http://www.royalhotelgrenoble.com/">Royal Hotel</a>. The rooms there are small and minimally appointed, but that fact was offset by the cleanliness of the hotel and the genuine friendliness of the staff. The next morning, after a good breakfast in the hotel dining room, JR went off to the university and I set out to explore Grenoble. I began with a walk through the old town, planning to wend my way toward the river. Grenoble, in spite of the surrounding mountains, does not get much snow, but today was an exception The snow was falling fast and the sky was grey and low. Stendahl’s mountains at the end of every street were nowhere to be seen. Signs posted along the main streets reminded citizens that “snow removal is the responsibility of all.” That collective <i>all</i> did not seem to translate, however, into the individual <i>I. </i>Not a snow shovel was to be seen and the sidewalks became increasingly slippery and snow-filled. This was not a day for a walk. It was, on the other hand, a perfect day for a museum, and Grenoble happens to have one of the best.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The <a href="http://www.museedegrenoble.fr/962-english.htm">Grenoble Museum of Art</a> was founded in 1798, but it is housed in a modern, light-filled building that was constructed 20 years ago. There was so much to see that I spent the entire day there. I began with a great temporary exhibit of modern sculpture by the Italian artist <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giuseppe_Penone">Giuseppe Penone</a> and then wandered slowly through the ages beginning with Egyptian antiquities and ending with the museum's renowned collection of 20th-century art. In between, I took time out for lunch at the museum's restaurant, <i>Le 5. </i>The restaurant was completely booked, but I was able to get a seat at a big communal table. The food was great and my lunch companions were friendly and talkative.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Our first day in Grenoble ended with a wonderful dinner at the home of a mathematician friend who at one time thought of becoming a chef. He chose mathematics, he says, because it was easier!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The next morning, I set out early to explore the city in earnest. Most people begin a tour of Grenoble with a cable car ride up to the Bastille, a medieval fortress built above the city. The cars are bubble shaped and on a clear day provide a great view of the river, the town and the surrounding mountains. As I gazed up at the Bastille from below, its ramparts were just visible below the clouds. I decided to leave the the cable car ride for another visit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The old town is located where 2,000 years ago Grenoble came into existence as the Gallic village of Cularo. Remnants of these early settlers can be found in the town's <a href="http://www.musee-archeologique-grenoble.fr/919-le-musee.htm">archeology museum</a>. In today's old town, there are remnants of the town walls and small cobblestone streets lined with medieval and renaissance dwellings. More modern 19th-century buildings are grouped around airy squares and parks. The parks were all in winter repose, but having just walked through Grenoble's covered market, where colorful fruits and vegetables were heaped high, it was not difficult to imagine the gardens filled with similarly bright flowers on a sunny summer day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The history of Grenoble is told through a series of exhibits at the <i><a href="http://www.grenoble-tourisme.com/en/catalog/activity/musee-de-lancien-eveche-77109/#.VN3STinQBFA">Musée de l'ancien évêché</a></i>. Housed in the splendid rooms of the old palace of the local bishop, the museum traces the history of the region from paleolithic times to the present day. While there, a museum guard also gave me a good tip for a restaurant for lunch,<i> La tavola calda, </i>a nearby family owned restaurant. Eating Italian in the home of fondues and gratins may seem odd, but, in fact, Grenoble has a large Italian population and dozens of Italian restaurants. <i>La tavola calda </i>turned out to be a place where no one, except me, entered without kissing and being kissed by the pizza chef, who was installed in front of his wood-burning oven in the middle of the restaurant. On the advice of two regulars sitting next to me, I ordered pasta and was not disappointed. Contact established, my seat mates and I talked about everything from architecture, to Fox New's Paris <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2015/01/canal-st-martin-not-no-go-zone.html">"No-Go Zones,"</a> to the rebirth of Detroit. At the end of the meal, they introduced me to the chef, the waitress and the woman whose father started the restaurant. I'm pretty sure if I went back again, I would be welcomed with kisses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Big department stores line the main streets, but the old town is full of small artisan shops. During the 18th and 19th centuries, Grenoble was famous for its high-end leather gloves which were sold the world over. Less-expensive imports signaled the decline of the industry, but there are still one or two luxury glove makers in Grenoble. The glove store was closed when I went by, but I did buy a hat at a small shop nearby. (A new company, FST Handwear, is trying to revive the glove industry in Grenoble by giving a new look to classic Grenoble gloves. Their products are available <a href="http://www.fsthandwear.com/">online</a>.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On Saturday with the sky over Grenoble still grey and heavy, we decided that if the sun would not come to us, we would go to the sun. With borrowed snowshoes, we piled into a friend's car and headed toward the ski resort of <a href="http://www.chamrousse.com/">Chamrousse</a>, one of many ski resorts near Grenoble. As we twisted and turned up the mountainous road, the snow became heavy on the trees and the fog became denser. Hope began to wane, but then, like magic, we drove through the clouds into an enchanted world of crystal blue skies, brilliant sunshine and and new, pure-white snow sparkling like diamonds. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We parked the car, put on our snowshoes and started up the trail at a place called <i><a href="http://www.chamrousse.info/page32.html">Bachat Bouloud</a></i> at 1,735 meters of altitude (6,000 ft.). Jackets, sweaters, hats and gloves came off as we climbed to our destination, 400 meters (1,300 ft.) up the mountain. The trail begins in a pine forest that eventually gives way to open slopes with, on most days, a bird's eye view of Grenoble in the valley below. Today, however, Grenoble was lost under a lake of snow-white clouds, which, rather than diminishing the view, only added to its mystical quality. We climbed to a pass where we could see two mountain ranges; spread our coats on the snow; and dined on fresh baguette, comté cheese and fruit. After a little nap in the sun, we headed back down and ended the day with a beer on the terrace of a mountain cafe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">After a great four-day visit, we left the next day on a morning where the sun did make some brief appearances. Finally I was lucky enough to get Stendhal's view of the mountains from Grenoble. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-40041438256549439112015-01-23T06:06:00.000-05:002016-12-16T14:23:39.234-05:00Canal St. Martin - Not a No-Go Zone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At a dinner party the other night at the <i><a href="http://www.maisondesx.com/restaurant-Le-Poulpry" target="_blank">Maison des polytechniciens</a> </i>several of our French friends were talking about the supposed "no-go zones" in Paris. In case you haven't heard about it, </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">after the recent terrorist attacks in Paris, </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">the American TV network Fox News, broadcast repeatedly the completely false information that Paris has zones that are so completely Muslim, and </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">ipso facto </i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">so dangerous, that non-Muslims, not even the French police, dare enter them. Their "expert" - with a map of Paris behind him - even described some of the zones as places that were more like Iraq or Afghanistan than Paris. After being subjected to several days of ridicule by the French satirical program </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.canalplus.fr/c-divertissement/pid6378-c-le-petit-journal.html" target="_blank">Le Petit Journal</a> </i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">and half the internet, Fox News issued a complete apology to all the people of France. Their information was wrong and they were sorry for the errors. But, as our French friends said, damage has been done, witnessed by the fact that even after Fox's apology, the internet is still full of forums with people asking if it is safe to go to Paris. The mayor of Paris has announced that she is considering suing Fox News on behalf of the City of Paris. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(Click </span><a href="http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=28b_1421201170&use_old_player=1" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> to see the segment on </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Le Petit Journal </i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">with subtitles</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> in English.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Several of the "dangerous" areas on Fox's Paris maps are not far from our apartment. So, in the interests of journalistic honesty and to give Travel Oyster readers a first-hand view, I decided to risk life and limb and spend the day in one of the Fox News NO-GO ZONES!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My walk began at the <i>Place de la République, </i>the starting point for the recent solidarity <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2015/01/paris-2015-je-suis-charlie.html" target="_blank">walk</a> following the terrorist attacks. The huge square, with eleven converging streets, covers almost eight and a half acres (3.4 ha.) </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A gathering place since the mid-1300s, t</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">he present square was recently renovated to make it more pedestrian and bike friendly. At one end there is a glass-enclosed cafe and restaurant that's a good place to relax and take in the sights. I decided to go instead to the award-winning boulangerie <i><a href="http://dupainetdesidees.com/en/" target="_blank">Du Pain et des Idées</a> - </i>a most definite go zone.<i> </i>This year, Le Point magazine named the bakery's <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2012/01/galette-des-rois.html" target="_blank"><i>Galette des Rois</i> </a>the best in Paris. Not a big fan of the traditional holiday galette, I had my favorite, <i>Le chausson à la pomme fraiche.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">From the bakery, I walked to the Canal St. Martin, a tranquil oasis in the middle of a bustling neighborhood. The canal was built at the behest of Napoleon Bonaparte in the 1820s, to supply Paris with fresh water. In the 20th century, canal boats plied its waters bringing food and building materials to the center of Paris. I sat on a bench midway along the four and a half kilometers of canal that remain above ground. On Sundays the adjoining streets are closed to traffic, but as I happily ate my chausson, </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">cars and bikes whizzed by. T</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">rees and bushes along the waterway helped block out their sound and I sat for a while </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">admiring the beautiful arched pedestrian bridges that traverse the canal.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> I walked down the canal, on the lookout for signs of danger, but saw only parents pushing baby carriages, </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">young guys on skateboards, and </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">older men playing <a href="http://www.discoverfrance.net/France/Sports/DF_boules.shtml" target="_blank">boules</a>. One of men did ask me for a cigarette, but when I told him I didn't smoke, he thanked me and went back to his game. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My next stop was the Hôpital Saint-Louis. The hospital is just outside the official Fox no-go zone, but the short detour into a go zone is well worth it. It was built by order of King Henri IV in the early 1600s to isolate victims of the plague from the rest of the population. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">C</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">lassified a historic monument, </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">the hospital's double walls enclose one of the most beautiful and least-known squares in Paris. Designed by the king's architect Claude Chastillon in 1607, it is a forerunner to the </span><a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2013/02/place-des-vosges.html" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;" target="_blank">Place des Vosges</a>, <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">which Chastillon designed</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> in 1612. A much larger modern hospital now welcomes patients, but the square is open to all. After a walk around the practically deserted square,</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> I wandered through several streets on my way back to the canal. I windowed shopped and even stepped into a few stores, including </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.antoineetlili.com/" target="_blank">Antoine et </a></i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.antoineetlili.com/" target="_blank">Lili</a> with its three brightly painted storefronts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After all this walking, it was time for lunch. I considered a Cambodian restaurant and a small couscous joint, but in the end I went for the traditional and had lunch at the </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.hoteldunord.org/en/" target="_blank">Hôtel du Nord</a>. </i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Famed as the setting for a well-known French novel and an even more famous <a href="http://www.hoteldunord.org/en/history/the-film.html" target="_blank">film</a>, it was built around the same time as the canal. It was originally a workingmen's hotel, but by the 1970s it had run-down and was scheduled for demolition. In the good French tradition, citizens rallied to save it and by 1989, its facade was declared a national heritage. The restaurant has a wonderful old bistro atmosphere and a very good 13,50 euro lunch menu. I had a puff pastry stuffed with tomato and mozzarella, followed by grilled fish with eggplant caviar. I lingered a bit over coffee and then set out again still in search of what made this neighborhood "no-go."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I wandered north and there the streets got a bit dirtier and more crowded. The stores were a bit less chic, but even more interesting with eclectic boutiques and bazaars filled with products from all over the world, appealing to the people of the diverse cultures who live there. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">What the neighborhood didn't seem was threatening or dangerous or no-go. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As the day wound down, I made by way home and arrived there safe and sound. After surviving my first expedition, I'm looking forward to exploring some of the other no-go zones in Paris. If the expert from Fox News wants to come along, I'd be happy to hold his hand and show him the sights.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To take a photo tour of my No-Go Zone walk, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/ej2q7cEwHJtDhunU9" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-2865087242054328662015-01-12T09:16:00.000-05:002016-12-16T14:24:46.969-05:00Paris 2015 - Je Suis Charlie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The holiday lights are still twinkling in the streets of Paris, but our first four days in the city have been somber indeed. On the morning of our departure, we awoke to the news that gunmen had killed 12 people, including two police officers, in an attack on the headquarters of the French satirical magazine <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Hebdo" target="_blank">Charlie Hebdo</a>, whose offices are located not far from our apartment. The next day a policewoman was killed in a related attack and the day after that, four people were killed in a hostage-taking situation in a kosher supermarket.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There are many issues brought to the fore by these attacks: freedom of the press versus civility and respect for others; anti-semitism; backlash against immigrants; and a government's ability to protect its citizens from extremists bent on terrorism. Different people, in France and around the world, have divergent opinions on how this latter can be achieved. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On Sunday, however, a crowd of almost 4 million people, along with 40 world leaders took to the streets of France to demonstrate the values that unite them rather than those that divide them. In Paris alone, the crowd was estimated at 1.7 million people. JR and I and a group of our friends were among them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As we set out for the <i>Place de la République</i>, the starting point of the march, we knew immediately that the turnout was huge. All the streets leading to </span><i style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">République </i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">from every direction were blocked with people. We joined the throngs on one of the many broad boulevards that lead to the square, but could see nothing of it from our vantage point. What we could see were thousands and thousands of people, many holding signs that read: <i>Je suis Charlie. </i>The slogan, "I am Charlie," has become a symbol of solidarity in France. Two women in front of us carried a sign that that seemed to speak for all. It read: "We are Charlie; </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We are </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Police; We are Jewish; </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We are women;</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> We are Muslim; We are French; We are human; We are not afraid." </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DmwZ-GQLd34/VLPOj0Z8iII/AAAAAAAAQA8/b1gEQEtVNYM/s1600/IMG_7700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DmwZ-GQLd34/VLPOj0Z8iII/AAAAAAAAQA8/b1gEQEtVNYM/s1600/IMG_7700.JPG" width="163" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We stood for a while without moving until some marchers near the square realized that it was blocked. From behind us like a wave came the command passed from person to person to turn around and march in the other direction. "A La Bastille, "some people cried. Smiling, the crowd turned and began moving </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">in the most orderly fashion t</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">oward the <i>Place de la <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Place_de_la_Bastille" target="_blank">Bastille</a></i>. There the press of people trying to make their way to the many small streets that encircle the square was almost suffocating. But, </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">with an orderliness that marked the whole day, there was no pushing, shoving or harsh words. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We lost track of a couple of our friends, but eventually, we spilled into a side street and marched onward to the <i>Place de la Nation</i>, the ending point of the rally. Police helicopters flew overhead and 2,200 police and military personnel were stationed on the streets and rooftops. When a group of vans loaded with <i>Police Nationale </i>passed by, marchers up and down the route clapped and cheered for them. Our friend Claude, a veteran of many a Paris street protest said: "This has got to be the first time in history that the cops have been applauded by the demonstrators!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It took us almost four hours to cover just three or four kilometers, but finally we reached the <i>Place de la Nation.</i> As we turned to make our way home, there were still uncountable thousands marching toward the square. Night had fallen, but the lights of Paris and the courage of its people illuminated the city. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">To see more photos, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/nHacV3g6fC19Uytq6" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A bientôt,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-78099956136458656902014-12-15T09:03:00.000-05:002019-09-07T15:32:11.292-04:00Great Books VI<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Woman Seated on a Sofa by Edouard Vuillard, The Art Institute of Chicago</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Travel Oyster is back with the sixth edition of its Great Books series. This year's recommendations are all memoirs of a sort, but each book is infused with history: the history of a family, a language, a time, a cuisine. </span><br />
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Hare with Amber Eyes</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A Hidden Inheritance</span></i></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">by Edmund De Waal </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2010, 351 pages</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>The Hare with Amber Eyes</i> has all the qualities one hopes for with every newly-begun book. It's beautifully written, throughly engrossing and full of interesting characters. De Waal, already well-known as a ceramic artist before writing this book, is a descendant of the famously-rich Ephrussi banking family. When he inherits a family collection of 264 tiny Japanese wood and ivory carvings called netsuke from his great uncle in Tokyo, he sets out on a quest to learn more about who made them and who owned them. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />De Waal is a discreet moderator and he has the wisdom and restraint to stand in the background and let his family history speak for itself. Their story begins in the 1850s, where the Ephrussi, a Jewish family in Odessa, have become the greatest grain exporters in the world. By the 1870s, the family has established a financial empire in Paris and Vienna. In Paris, De Waal's great-uncle Charles is friends with Degas, Manet, Monet and Renoir. An avid collector and art critic, Charles is also the first owner of the netsuke. </span><br />
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As De Waal traces the history of his inheritance, he gives life to these small, inanimate objects and to the history of 19th and 20th-century Europe; its buildings; its people; its art. And, as his family fortunes turn in the era of Nazi Germany, De Waal reflects on loss and the importance of cherished family objects. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">From the very first page, I was entranced with <i>The Hare with Amber Eyes</i> and arrived at the last page with a small sense of loss myself that such a wonderful book had to end.</span></span><br />
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<i><b><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My Love Affair with Italian, The World's Most Enchanting Language</span></b></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">by Dianne Hales</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">2009, 290 pages</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Years ago when I began studying Italian, many people asked me why. In this charming book, Dianne Hales answers that question, weaving together the study of this beautiful language with the history and culture of the country. As a professor in her book remarks: "You cannot separate our language from our culture. When you learn Italian, you enter our history, our art, our music, our traditions." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For more than 25 years, Hales visits the country taking Italian lessons and spending enough, she calculates, to finance a down payment on an Umbrian villa. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We meet her friends and acquaintances, everyone from the actor Roberto Benigni to a Roman cab driver who gives her a lesson in Italian cursing. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On the road to fluency, she studies everything from the graffiti on the walls of Pompeii to the melodic beauty of Dante's </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Divine Comedy</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">. And as she traces the evolution of the language, the history of the country, its art and its food, she serves up linguistic delicacies that give us a taste of what makes Italian such an emotionally expressive language.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Italian is number 24 on the list of the world's spoken languages, but it's the fourth most studied language in the world. So if you have ever studied Italian, dream about studying it or just want to know more about 'the world's most enchanting language," then this is the book for you.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">by William Least Heat Moon</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">1982, 411 pages</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In the late 1970s, after losing his wife to another man and his teaching job at a Missouri college to budget cuts, Least Heat Moon decides that "a man who couldn't make things go right could at least go." And so begins his journey down America's back roads (printed in blue on old maps). It's a three month, 13,000-mile trip that takes him through 375 mostly small and often forgotten towns - towns with names like Bug, Chucky, Grit, Snowflake and Nameless. (Click <a href="http://littourati.squarespace.com/storage/moon-files/moon_map.htm" target="_blank">here</a> to see all the towns he visited.) Along the way, he meets extraordinary people living often ordinary lives. They invite him into their homes and he, in turn, tells their stories with empathy and wit, perfectly capturing the cadence and style of their language. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After reading this book, you may want to take to the back roads yourself. If you do, you will find that the Blue Highway America is still out there waiting for you. JR and I discovered that not so long ago when we took the back roads home to Ann Arbor from our cabin in northern Michigan. In the process, we stumbled on Trufant, “the Stump Fence Capital of America." Everywhere in this small town perched on the edge of a lake called Muskellunge,</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> homes, gardens, parks and squares are enclosed with fences made of enormous stumps</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> of long-ago-logged Michigan trees. In case you are interested, the town also has an annual fall jubilee where after your pancake breakfast, you can participate in the frog jumping contest or the greased pig scramble. </span></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">My Life in France</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">by Julia Child with Alex Prud'homme</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is a lovely, funny, charming memoir by the woman who introduced America to the art of French cooking. As Child herself puts it, it's a book about "some of the things I have loved most in life: my husband, Paul Child; la belle France; and the many pleasures of cooking and eating.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The book begins in 1948 when Julia arrives in Paris with Paul. She speaks not a word of French, knows nothing about France, and can't cook. Her desire to learn and her zest for life, however, soon take her to the Cordon Bleu for cooking lessons. For the next six years, her life in France unfolds in a series of vignettes which she infuses with her love for France, its people and most of all, its food.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Yes, Meryl Streep played a wonderful Julia Child in the film <i>Julie & Julia,</i> but for the voice of the real Julia Child, you'll want to read this captivating book.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-34048696238307551982014-06-25T10:38:00.000-04:002016-12-16T14:26:21.864-05:00Michigan Blue Heaven<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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An American friend of mine in Paris, who is definitely a big-city kind of girl, shakes her head in disbelief when I describe our cabin on a river in northern Michigan. She knows that we spend two months in Paris and two months in Pisa each year and can't imagine going from the myriad offerings of those two cities to what she calls "wilderness." "What do you do there?" She practically wails when she says this. </div>
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It's true that life at the cabin is definitely a far cry from the bright lights and big city feel of Paris or the medieval splendor of Pisa. In fact, it's a pretty far cry from anything. The closest grocery store in Baldwin, population 800, is about six miles away on roads that are largely unpaved. There are no fancy restaurants, cafes, cinemas or art museums. The town does have two canoe liveries, a hardware store, a good little library with internet, an ice cream and fudge shop and, most surprising of all, twice-weekly jazz and blues <a href="http://www.baldwinsummerconcerts.org/">concerts </a>all summer long. There are lakes and streams for fishing and canoeing and hundreds of miles of forest bike and hiking trails. Lake Michigan, where you can find beautiful, secluded white sand beaches, is just 40 miles to the west. </div>
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Our cabin is modest. At 720 square feet, it's just a bit smaller than the 80-square meter apartment we rent for two months each year in the Marais neighborhood of Paris. The screened-in porch adds another 200 square feet - and a view that many Parisians might envy. It's here that JR and I have our "offices," facing a bend of the Middle Branch of the Pere Marquette River, a national scenic trout stream. There are a few other cabins not far from us, but they are lost from view around the serpentine bends of the river. The opposite bank is federal land, where the only neighbors are forest animals, birds and butterflies. White oak, sugar maple, aspen and cedar trees fill the forest and tower over the cabin. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9bu5aETa4Q0/U5oGuAlzH6I/AAAAAAAAPSI/V4Zak_MX3bs/s1600/IMG_8392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9bu5aETa4Q0/U5oGuAlzH6I/AAAAAAAAPSI/V4Zak_MX3bs/s1600/IMG_8392.JPG" width="150" /></a>Guests get to stay in the <i>Love Shack</i> - a separate building that was in complete disrepair when we bought the property 15 years ago. JR and I rebuilt it and restored it to its former rustic glory, and my sister Michele, one of its first occupants, named it. It's just big enough for a bed, a dresser and a chair, but its four big windows bring the outside in. A bistro table and chairs, a gift from my French friend Marcelle, bring a touch of Paris to the Love Shack's screened-in porch. The small espresso machine is a reminder of Italy.</div>
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The river up near our cabin is small, but deep and cold. Trout hide in the under banks and in season, steelhead and salmon spawn in its gravel bottom. The calm bends of the river are filled with mounds of watercress, whose slender green shoots spill out into the river, gracefully undulating in the fast-moving current. In springtime wild asparagus line the riverbanks. In summer, bright orange Michigan lilies and startlingly red Cardinal flowers take their place. Spring through fall, mushrooms - morels, chanterelles and porcini - flourish in places that will remain my secret.</div>
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Although not as obvious to the casual observer, life in the "wilderness" is just as busy and chaotic as life in the big city. It hums with activity day and night and its bucolic appearance belies the great dangers that lurk for the creatures who live there. When we arrive in springtime, though, love is in the air. An attentive observer can find the architecturally perfect nest of the hummingbird; hear the high-pitched cheeps of the Towhee nestlings; witness two wood turtles making love; or come upon a fawn bedded down in the tall grass. </div>
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The city <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2013/01/sounds-of-paris.html">sounds of Paris</a> are a world away, but like the big city, the woods are almost never silent. The wind whispers or sometimes roars through the trees; the river babbles; the chipmunks chip; the deer snort; the birds sing; and, this year unfortunately, the mosquitoes buzz. </div>
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Melting snowpack from one of Michigan's coldest winters in decades coupled with heavy spring rains created a perfect storm for the breeding of mosquitoes and ticks. And then, there are the turkeys. A couple of weeks ago, while hunting mushrooms in the early evening, I was charged by a mother turkey when I inadvertently came too close to her nest. I ducked behind a tree and the turkey and I - Walt Disney cartoon fashion, circled it - I right next to the trunk and she about 10 feet away. My yelling got her to retreat, but as I made for home, she followed me for about a half-mile gobbling and squawking the whole way. </div>
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I'm not sure how much damage a turkey can do, but I can tell you that being charged by a 30 pound turkey at breakneck speed is unsettling. For a while it made me wonder why I was not sitting instead at a sidewalk cafe in Paris. </div>
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But then as I made my way back to the cabin in the gathering darkness, a whippoorwill began to sing. The words of a classic <a href="http://rockhall.com/inductees/fats-domino/bio/">Fats Domino</a> song came to mind. </div>
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<i>When whippoorwills call and evening is nigh,</i></div>
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<i>I hurry to my Blue Heaven.</i></div>
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<i>A turn to the right, a little white light,</i></div>
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<i>Will lead me to my Blue Heaven.</i> </div>
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To see more photos, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/poMsoNewbX8cN2dh9" target="_blank">here</a>.</blockquote>
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Happy Summer, </div>
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Geraldine</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-88619376590042188352014-05-13T10:15:00.000-04:002016-12-16T14:27:13.280-05:00Hiking the Metal Hills of Italy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"> Le Colline Mettallifere</span></i></div>
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The 25th of April is a national holiday in Italy. It's the <i>Festa della Liberazione</i>, the day that marks the end of the second world war and the end of the Nazi occupation of Italy.</div>
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For the last eight years, it's also the time when JR and I join Italian friends on a hiking or biking trip. Since my trusty bike was <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.com/2014/04/the-bicycle-thieves.html">stolen</a> recently, there was no choice to be made. We would be on foot for four days in the <i>Colline Metallifere</i>, the Metal Hills of the Maremma area of Southern Tuscany. </div>
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The <i><a href="http://penn.museum/documents/publications/expedition/PDFs/53-2/bianchi.pdf">Colline Metallifere</a> </i>are little known today even among Italians, but from the 8th to the 13th century, they were a major center of Italy and are mentioned by Dante in the Divine Comedy. As the name implies, the area was rich in minerals, including silver, which became the most precious metal of the Middle Ages when the Emperor Charlemagne declared a switch from gold to silver coinage in 781 A.D. Into the 13th century, feudal lords dug mines, exploited the minerals, became rich, and built castles and fortresses. Mining continued for several centuries, but today most of the mines are closed. </div>
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In 1890, Buffalo Bill Cody crossed the area when his American Wild West Show toured Italy. Supposedly Cody and his men were challenged to a contest of skills by the <i>butteri, </i>the local version of cowboys, who herded the Maremma cows that still are raised in the area. There seems to be no actual proof of this event and since Buffalo Bill was a master of publicity, it's very possible that it never really happened. Nonetheless, the Maremma with its rugged terrain and cattle culture is a region that could have produced riders able to challenge the Americans. </div>
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The cowboys of the Maremma have all but disappeared, but medieval remains are still visible. A series of small fortified towns that sit perched on isolated hilltops dot the landscape. In between are dense woods and steep valleys. Many of the towns have histories linked to the <a href="http://brunelleschi.imss.fi.it/itineraries/itinerary/MetallurgyTuscany.html">Etruscans</a>, who mined the area as far back as the 6th century B.C.</div>
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Our trip began in Massa Marrittima, a small beautiful city rich in art and architecture. Our actual walk began in Boccheggiano, a town of 800 people with one restaurant, which turned out to be good. There was also a fabulous bakery where JR bought so much that the baker gave him a bag of cookies as a gift. The next day, the 25th of April, we walked to Torniella, a town of 400 people. When we arrived in the waning hours of this holiday afternoon, the young men of the village were playing handball in the main street with the old men of the town as spectators. Roccatederighi, our next day's goal, has a population of almost 1,000, but seems bigger with its many markets and restaurants. Its series of winding streets culminates in a church built into the rock on the top of the hill.<br />
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On our last day, we completed the circle, walking back to Boccheggiano. We left early, trying to beat the rain which threatened. Thunder and lightening dogged us and we could see storms to the north, which, unfortunately, was the direction we were headed. By lunchtime, it was raining and we ate under the protection of a trailside water trough. Fortunately, the regular users of the trough - huge Maremma cows - were nowhere to be seen.</div>
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We walked 15-18 kilometers a day; stayed in ancient small houses or apartments and ate great local food, including lots of pecorino cheese, wild boar, and pasta with butter and sage. We encountered no other hikers in this land of incredible beauty as we crossed forests carpeted with wild cyclamen, asphodels and orchids. We strolled at night through town streets with the aura of the Middle Ages all around us. </div>
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Perched towns are beautiful, but they are, of course, <i>perched</i> which means to get to them you have to walk up and down seemingly endless hills. In between, there are lots of small rivers and streams, most of which have no bridges. The trails are not always well marked and can end abruptly in a mass of impenetrable underbrush. And as we discovered firsthand, it does rain in Tuscany, sometimes very hard. A compass, a good map, good cheer and good friends are essential. We had them all.</div>
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To see photos of our trip, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/qDUWg1365XxY2KgP8" target="_blank"><span id="goog_1609772298"></span>here<span id="goog_1609772299"></span></a>.</div>
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Geraldine<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span> </div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-13584996715072551592014-04-29T05:08:00.000-04:002016-12-16T14:28:28.998-05:00La Pineta and Bibbona <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">We emerged from the pine forest in <i>Marina di Bibbona</i> as the sun was beginning to set over the Mediterranean </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Sea. The beach was empty except for a few fisherman casting long rods and a dog romping in the sand. Nearby was a small building that resembled so many others up and down the Tuscan coast - a place where you might rent a beach umbrella and maybe grab a quick snack. Yet this <i>strana baracca</i> as Chef <i>Luciano Zazzeri </i>likes to call it, is home to <i><a href="http://www.lapinetadizazzeri.it/LaPineta/Home.html">La Pineta</a></i>, one of Italy's great restaurants known for its wonderful seafood. The restaurant takes its name from the Tuscan coastal pine forests that were cultivated for their pine nuts as far back as Roman times. <i>La Pineta</i>, the restaurant, was the reason we and two of our friends were here.</span></div>
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Before going down to the sea, we had spent the end of the afternoon in the original medieval village of <i>Bibbona</i> that sits on a nearby hill. The town's name is Etruscan in origin, but much of that early history is lost. <i>Bibbona</i> is first mentioned by that name in 1040. In the 1100s there are records of a dispute between <i>Ugo</i> <i>della Gherardesca</i> and the bishop of nearby Lucca over feudal rights in the area. </div>
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The village - lovely and quiet on this weekday afternoon - is built in a series of concentric circles, connected by narrow streets and steep steps. Its center is the 11th-12th century church of <i><a href="http://www.parrocchie-bibbona.it/S._Ilario.html">Sant'Ilario</a></i>. Like many villages in Tuscany, its position on a hill was not only for defensive purposes, but also to lift the town above the unhealthy swamps and marshes that covered much of the lowlands in ancient times. Today's Tuscany of vineyards and olive groves that most people know and love is the result of successive <a href="http://brunelleschi.imss.fi.it/itineraries/itinerary/ReclamationTuscany.html">draining projects</a> over several centuries. </div>
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It was during one of these draining projects in the middle of the 18th century that <i>Marina di Bibbona</i> came into existence, but it was not until 1980s that any significant building took place in the town. </div>
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When <i>La Pineta</i> opened there in the spring of 1964, it was just a little place on the beach with 12 changing huts and 12 umbrellas. Present chef <i>Luciano Zazzeri</i> was nine years old, but he was already in the restaurant's kitchen. He learned to cook from his grandmother, his mother and his aunt, who were preparing the dishes that attracted tourists just beginning to discover the region. In later years, the restaurant also attracted the attention of the great wine families in the nearby <i><a href="http://www.bolgheridoc.com/bolgheridoc/index.php?lang=en">Bolgheri</a></i> region, where Super Tuscans are produced. Among the diners were members of the <i>Della Gherardesca</i> family, descendants of the the same family mentioned in 12th-century records of the area. </div>
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From the outside, <i>La Pineta</i> still looks like a beachside shanty. Inside, however, the dining tables are covered in heavy linen cloths and the crystal and silver glimmer in the soft lighting. The view that fills the windows is the great expanse of the Mediterranean Sea. </div>
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The sea fades from view, however, when the food is set before you. You can order a la carte, but there are also two seafood tasting <a href="http://www.lapinetadizazzeri.it/LaPineta/Menu.html">menus</a> served to a minimum of two people. Since we were four, we ordered both menus, giving us a taste of 11 different dishes. Every one of them was wonderful. The fish is fresh from the sea, the pasta is perfectly al dente, and the vegetables are cultivated in the restaurant's garden. The dishes, although elegantly presented, are relatively simple. The flavor of the fresh fish is first and foremost, as in a baccala on a puree of leeks or in a simple baked fish with rosemary, capers, olives and tomatoes. The <a href="http://wine%20list/">wine list</a> is extensive and is heavy on Tuscan wines, including many of the best <i>Bolgheri</i> wines.</div>
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The atmosphere is relaxed and the waiters linger to chat when they take away the dishes. Chef Zazzeri stopped by as well to talk to us about the different fish and how they were prepared. When we were leaving, he walked us to the door and in traditional Italian style, lingered there with us for ten minutes or more, talking about the politics of Italy, the vagaries of the restaurant business, his family and his passion for food. We seemed to diverge a bit on politics, but we were in perfect harmony on the pleasures of good food. </div>
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To see more photos, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/BBx3t5xgpWU3Vit37" target="_blank">here</a>. </div>
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Geraldine</div>
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<span class="style_1" style="font-family: "arialmt" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; line-height: 21px;"><b><a href="http://www.lapinetadizazzeri.it/LaPineta/Home.html">Ristorante "La Pineta" di Luciano Zazzeri</a></b></span><span class="style_1" style="font-family: "arialmt" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 21px;"> </span></div>
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<span class="style_1" style="font-family: "arialmt" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 21px;">Via Dei Cavalleggeri Nord 27</span></div>
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<span class="style_1" style="font-family: "arialmt" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 21px;">57020 Marina Di Bibbona, Toscana, Italy</span></div>
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<span class="style_1" style="font-family: "arialmt" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 21px;">Telefono (0039) </span><span class="style_2" style="color: #323333; font-family: "arialmt" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-style: normal; font-weight: 400; line-height: 21px; opacity: 1;">0586.600016</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: xx-small;">Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-50559548378645211882014-04-10T08:31:00.000-04:002016-12-16T14:29:37.902-05:00The Bicycle Thieves<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the film <i><a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/940557/The-Bicycle-Thief">Ladri di biciclette</a></i> (The Bicycle Thief),Vittorio De Sica's 1948 masterpiece of Italian <a href="http://filmandphilosophy.com/2013/03/08/the-bicycle-thieves-and-italian-neorealism/">neorealism</a>, Antonio is struggling to support his family in post-World War II Rome. He has miraculously landed a job, but it requires a bicycle and his has already been pawned. His wife sells her dowry linens to retrieve it and the family's prospects seem to be on the rise, Then the bicycle is stolen. Antonio is devastated because the loss of his job means ruin for his family. One thing leads to another until Antonio himself becomes a bicycle thief. </div>
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I thought of Antonio the other morning when I went down to get my bike and found that it had been stolen during the night. I suspect that it was just one of many because the bike rack was curiously empty and the only bikes left were those that were locked with heavy metal chains. </div>
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Old-timers in Pisa attribute the thefts to people from Livorno, Pisa's ancient enemy in war and modern rival in soccer. Others accuse <i>extracomunitari, </i>people from outside the European Union, for the most part from eastern Europe. Harder for them to admit, but also likely, is the fact that among the culprits are ordinary Italian citizens, who like Antonio, are reduced to thievery by Italy's severe economic crisis. </div>
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Whoever is behind it, bicycle theft is an enormous problem in Italy. In a recent <a href="http://life.wired.it/news/mobilita/2013/11/20/ladri-di-biciclette-fiab-questionario-2013.html">survey</a>, <i>Fiab</i>, (the Italian Federation of Friends of the Bicycle) estimated that 320,000 of the four million bikes on the road in Italy are stolen each year. The numbers are especially high in university towns such as Bologna, where the 240 people interviewed by <i>Fiab</i> reported 275 bicycles stolen. In Pisa, the numbers of stolen bikes are also higher than one per person interviewed. At a high school in Pisa, 50 bikes, locked to racks in the school's courtyard, have been stolen in the last several months. In a recent article in the local paper, the principal of the school Andrea Simonetti, cried <i>basta </i>and called for the city to take action: "We cannot remain silent while our parking lots are regularly plundered in broad daylight," he said. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Pisa has instigated a registration policy for bikes, and police have conducted some undercover raids at known selling points for stolen bikes. However, theft is still such a common occurrence here that most people don't even bother to report it. Antonio and I, however, both filed a <i><a href="http://www.wordreference.com/iten/denuncia">denuncia</a>.</i> At the headquarters of the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carabinieri">carabinieri</a>, </i>the officer who took my complaint was very nice, but like Antonio's police officer, he warned me<i> </i>there was very little the police could do. He gave me a copy of the report and suggested that I walk around the city and look for my bike. If I found it, I could call for an officer and with my complaint in hand, it was likely my bike would be returned to me. </span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gxMJra6VCfQ/U0U7L9oFRVI/AAAAAAAAOzE/uTLJOVSrVS4/s1600/IMG_7063-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gxMJra6VCfQ/U0U7L9oFRVI/AAAAAAAAOzE/uTLJOVSrVS4/s1600/IMG_7063-1.JPG" width="150" /></a>So I've been walking around Pisa for the last couple of days. Bikes are everywhere - thousands and thousands of them - but there is no sign of mine. In the film there is a scene where Antonio, who has been searching for his bike in the streets of Rome, sits on a curb and watches sadly as the world whizzes past him on bikes. I know how he felt.<br />
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If Hollywood made The Bicycle Thief, my part would be played by a young beautiful blond who would find her bike, aided by an incredibly handsome Italian policeman. They would fall madly in love and in the last scene, they would bike off into the sunset. In the gritty world of Italian neorealism, however, Antonio never does find his bike. I suspect I won't either.</div>
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My green and white Bianchi bicycle was already old when I bought it nine years ago for 40 euros. JR, however, kept it in good repair, and a vegetable crate, tied to the back rack, allowed me to carry wine and other heavy items. I never bought an official bike basket because I always assumed my bike would get stolen. Now it's happened, but I content myself with the fact that nine years is something of a record for continuous bike ownership here in Pisa. Friends always said that my bike was too ugly to steal, but I thought of it as distinctive and too easily recognized. I guess in the dark of the night, its distinctiveness was not apparent. </div>
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Unlike Antonio, I can buy another bike, but I will miss my old one. It took me not just to the supermarket in Pisa, but also - on bright, sunny spring days - along coastal roads on the island of Elba, through Tuscan river valleys red with poppies, and to the tops of the highest hills in Chianti.</div>
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(To see more photos, including places I visited on my bike, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/D6yTLaeFLR5GBq3X8" target="_blank">here</a>.)</div>
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A presto,</div>
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Geraldine</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-71395111459590452702014-04-01T08:14:00.000-04:002020-03-25T09:45:46.765-04:00Peccioli <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4xzfzMTq_VI/UzQ-gxvfrJI/AAAAAAAAOs4/qKEe-4JPh0I/s1600/Italy+-+Peccioli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="588" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4xzfzMTq_VI/UzQ-gxvfrJI/AAAAAAAAOs4/qKEe-4JPh0I/s1600/Italy+-+Peccioli.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Farmland below Peccioli and the town's contemporary sign on the road leading to Peccioli</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Not far from Pisa is a beautiful Tuscan gem of a town called <a href="https://maps.google.it/maps?client=safari&oe=UTF-8&q=peccioli+map&ie=UTF-8&hq=&hnear=0x132a0c7b8eb76809:0x931521e11982d577,Peccioli+PI&gl=it&ei=EkQ0U-uGGuWd0QWVqIAo&ved=0CCoQ8gEwAA">Peccioli</a>. I first visited Peccioli in 2007 when I did some translation work for the town and have been back several times since. Located mid-way between Pisa and San Gimignano, Peccioli is perched high on a hill overlooking the valley of the Era River. The town boasts a perfectly proportioned Pisa-style 12th-century church, medieval buildings, modern sculptures, restaurants, shops, a theater, summer concerts and four museums. </span></div>
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Recently Peccioli announced that it is selling shares in 2,200 acres of its beautiful, rolling, dream-inducing Tuscan landscape. The land, once part of an immense farm owned by the Medici family of Florence, also contains 40 picturesque farmhouses that were home to the peasant families who took care of the land. Realizing the value of its pristine farmlands with their white roads and rustic farmhouses, a partnership was formed with the company <i>Belvedere,</i> to preserve the land for the common good. <i>Belvedere</i> estimates the cost of the restoration of the farmhouses at 50 million euros. If local people invest a part of their savings in the project, say company officials, they will not only protect the area from real estate speculation, but will also give jobs to local workers. It's an ambitious project whose success depends on local investment. Peccioli, however, has a history of success.</div>
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First mentioned in written documents in 793 A.D., Peccioli was a vital piece on the <a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/etru/hd_etru.htm">Etruscan </a>chessboard of northern <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Etruria">Etruria</a> as far back as the 5th century B.C. By the Middle Ages, however, the town had become just a lowly pawn in the seemingly never-ending battle for political dominance between Pisa and Florence, passing back and forth between the two super powers. Through it all, the <i>Pecciolesi</i> made the best of a bad situation and continued to make, as they do today, great wine, honey and olive oil.</div>
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The town's modern claim to fame has been its ability to "make gold from garbage." More than 25 years ago when Tuscany faced a serious sanitation crisis, enterprising Peccioli, unlike its neighboring towns, welcomed the establishment of a nearby landfill. Located about five miles from the town center, it has become an international model of good sanitation practices and a source of economic prosperity for the town.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qy4LbezpDvE/UzqX7E2shSI/AAAAAAAAOts/4WKlxW7Vwfo/s1600/litografie1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qy4LbezpDvE/UzqX7E2shSI/AAAAAAAAOts/4WKlxW7Vwfo/s1600/litografie1.jpg" width="154" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana";">Building upon this newfound wealth, the town administration made infrastructure improvements, bolstered social services and improved schools. Museums were opened, including an archeological museum of Etruscan art and a lithography museum with a superb collection of famous 20th-century Italian artists. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">The town also sponsored an archeological dig and restored chapel </span><a href="http://invaldera.net/2014/03/22/benozzo-gozzoli-in-legoli/" style="font-family: verdana;">frescos</a> in nearby Legoli <span style="font-family: "verdana";"> painted by </span><a href="http://www.museobenozzogozzoli.it/works/Legoli.html" style="font-family: verdana;">Benozzo Gozzoli</a><span style="font-family: "verdana";"> in the 15th century. In 1478, when a virulent plague struck Pisa, Gozzoli, who was living and working in Pisa, fled that low-lying city with his entire family. He sought refuge in Legoli, where, he hoped. the open hills and clean air would provide protection from the dreaded plague. He stayed for a year, during which time he produced these hauntingly beautiful works of art. </span><br />
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Now, Peccioli hopes to attract more of the millions of people who visit Tuscany each year. According to their plan, about half of the 40 farmhouses, once restored, will be part of a tourist complex. The others will be sold on the international market to help finance the project. </div>
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Owning a Tuscan farmhouse may not be in your future plans, but a visit to the town should be. Not so long ago, Peccioli earned the coveted <i><a href="http://www.bestsmalltownsitaly.com/town/peccioli-tuscany-center/">Bandiera Arancione</a> </i> from the Italian Touring Club, naming it one of the best small towns in Italy. So if you want to get there before the crowds, go soon. </div>
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To see more photos of Peccioli and some of its 40 farmhouses, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/4NxEDDL5hNMQZaww8" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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A presto,</div>
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Geraldine</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-25854199528239865472014-03-18T05:33:00.000-04:002016-12-16T14:30:46.710-05:00Pisa 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On our last full day in Paris for this year, I went out early to buy bread and a final croissant or two. The city was still abed; the streets were swept clean; and everything was aglow in the early morning sun. It was a good day to be out and about in Paris.</div>
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My friend Marcelle invited me to lunch and we went to a nearby restaurant which I had always meant to try, but never had - <i><a href="http://desgarsdanslacuisine.com/">Des Gars dans la Cuisine</a>. </i>It's a modern, glass-fronted restaurant on the ancient rue du Vieille du Temple. It's a bit pricey a la carte, but like many restaurants in Paris, it has a very reasonable, very good lunch menu. Afterwards, we picked up some pastries and headed back to the apartment for coffee and dessert. JR was there and opened a good, bubbly bottle of <a href="http://www.wine-searcher.com/regions-vouvray">Vouvray</a> to celebrate another great stay in Paris. </div>
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That night, with the apartment all cleaned, we went off to a neighborhood restaurant, <i><a href="http://www.restaurant-page35.com/">Page 35</a></i>, for crepes. When we left, the three owners gave us a card they had all signed, wishing us a speedy return to Paris.</div>
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The next morning, we left Paris' Orly Airport bound for Pisa. It's only an hour and a half flight, but it takes you to a world far from the big-city hustle and bustle of Paris. Here in the center of historic Pisa, life is slower; buildings are older and smaller; and change is less obvious - although a new giant <a href="http://www.ikea.com/%E2%80%8E">IKEA</a> did open during the last year on the outskirts of town. And, of course, Italy has a new government although that is a common occurrence. According to a recent <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/comment/2014/03/italys-young-prime-minister-in-a-hurry.html">article</a> in <i>The New Yorker, </i>Italy has had 63 governments in the last 68 years.</div>
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Economically, the situation in Italy remains depressed and young people continue to leave in droves to find jobs in other countries. Still, for a visitor, some things, such as the friendliness of the people and the beauty of the landscape, seem never to change. Baristas, bakers and pizza makers welcomed us back. Friends called and on our first night in Pisa, we were invited out to the opera at Pisa's beautiful Teatro Verdi.</div>
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The opera <i><a href="http://opera.stanford.edu/Giordano/AndreaChenier/main.html">Andrea Chenier</a></i> was a perfect transition from France to Italy. Written by the Italian composer Umberto Giordano, it is the story (tragic, of course) of the French poet Andrea Chenier who, along with the love of his life, goes to the guillotine during the French Revolution</div>
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The next day, to wash away our sorrows, we went to the thermal baths in <a href="http://www.termedicasciana.com/tuscany_spa/home.htm">Casciana Terme</a>, a town about 40 kilometers south of Pisa. The numerous towns in Tuscany with the word <i>terme </i>or <i>bagni </i>in their names attests to the fact that the region is rich in hot springs. Their curative powers were heralded as far back as Etruscan times. The <i><a href="http://www.euratlas.net/cartogra/peutinger/">Tabula Peutingeriana</a></i>, a 12th-century copy of a Roman map dating back to about 70 A.D., shows the thermal waters of the Tuscan towns of Volterra and Populonia. </div>
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Legend says that the hot springs of Casciana were discovered by <i>Contessa <a href="http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/369347/Matilda-of-Canossa">Matilde</a> di Canossa, </i>a famous and powerful noblewoman of the Middle Ages. According to this legend, a little bird told her. The bird in question - an old pet robin - would fly creakily off each morning to an unknown destination and would return in the evening rejuvenated. A bit of reconnaissance revealed that the bird was spending its days soaking in a natural hot spring. Matilde decided to do likewise. The water's effects on Matilde are unknown, but it is known that at age 43, she married the 17-year old Duke of Bavaria. She lived, reigned and commanded an army up until her death at age 69, which is a ripe old age for medieval times.<br />
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In the evening, we drove into the nearby hills to attend a friend's Mardi Gras party. "Fat Tuesday," the usual day of Mardi Gras parties and parades had long since past and <a href="http://christianity.about.com/od/holidaytips/qt/whatislent.htm">Lent</a>, the season of fasting, had already begun. Nonetheless, there were costumes, dancing and plenty of great food. As I said, in Italy, things move a little slower.<br />
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To see more photos, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/cQChk6Bz3ixqSuNy7" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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Geraldine</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-39201899184963540012014-02-26T03:48:00.000-05:002019-11-13T12:09:32.794-05:00Paris Greeters - Belleville<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Graffiti, rue Dénoyez, Paris</span></span></div>
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<i>Parisien d'un Jour, Parisien toujours. </i>I came across this phrase (Parisian for a day, Parisian forever) on the City of Paris tourist information page. The slogan belongs to the <a href="http://www.parisgreeters.fr/?lang=en">Paris Greeters</a>, a group of volunteers that offers free tours of Paris and nearby areas. The volunteers are not professional guides, just friendly Parisians who love their their city and want to share it with visitors by showing them the places and the faces beyond the city's famous tourist attractions. </div>
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Intrigued, I decided to investigate. I went to the Paris Greeters web site and filled out the form, requesting a tour for the following week. Normally, you have to register a month in advance, but I got a message back saying my request would be posted and if someone was free, I would be contacted. A couple of hours later, an email arrived from Annie Siauve, a third-generation Parisian, who lives in Belleville, a neighborhood in the northeast of Paris that most tourists never visit.</div>
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Once a small hilltop village, Belleville was a thriving town by the time it was incorporated into Paris in 1860. It was most famous as a destination for nighttime revelers, who crowded its huge drinking establishments, known as <i>guingette</i>s (To read Travel Oyster on other Paris guingettes, click <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.com/2011/01/the-path-of-impressionists.html" target="_blank">here</a>.) Because mining caverns under Belleville made the land unstable, many of its buildings are only two or three stories high, which gives the area even today a village feel. The gentrification of Belleville is in full swing, but it remains a diverse, working-class neighborhood. Although best known for its Chinatown, its streets are lined with a United Nations of stores catering to the many different ethnic groups that call Belleville home.</div>
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This diversity was obvious as I waited for Annie outside the cafe La Vieilleuse. In spite of the grey weather, North African men stood talking in groups on the busy street corners - a custom more appropriate to the sunny climes of their homelands, but one that is obviously hard to break. Up the hill, decorations were being put up for the upcoming Chinese New Year celebration and across the street, Belleville's huge outdoor French market was in full swing.</div>
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Annie found me easily in the crowd of men. Our first stop was the Belleville Market, which runs for blocks along the rue du Belleville. It's a big market with a reputation for some of the best prices in Paris. Annie pointed out the various ethnic food, clothing and jewelry stands while merchants sang out their wares in several different languages. Everything looked tempting, but with a two-hour walk ahead of us, I decided to leave shopping for another day.</div>
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Next stop was Belleville's famous rue Dénoyez, one of the only streets in Paris where graffiti is not only legal, but encouraged. The street is a lively, ever-changing outdoor art gallery, where, as Annie pointed out, almost all the graffiti I photographed would be gone by the next day. </div>
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From there, we walked up and down the streets of Belleville. Annie seems to know what is behind every ordinary door, opening them to reveal a world of small countrylike houses, beautiful little gardens, thriving artists' studios, and the remnants of the long-disappeared forest of Belleville. We also passed the house on whose steps legend says the famous French singer <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%89dith_Piaf">Edith Piaf</a> was born. Reality is less romantic according to Annie, who tells me that Piaf was born in the nearby Tenon Hospital.</div>
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We hiked up to the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parc_de_Belleville">Parc de Belleville</a></i>, the highest park in Paris. Along the way, we passed several fountains that once supplied all of Belleville's water. In summer, the <i>Parc de Belleville</i> is known for its massive flower displays and its 100 meter-long waterfall fountain. In every season, it has an incredible view of Paris, which rivals that of the more famous Montmartre hill. At one time, Annie tells me, Belleville hoped to follow Montmartre's lead and fill the park with artists selling their wares and crepes stands on every corner. Unfortunately, or fortunately for local residents, the idea did not catch on. Instead, it remains a neighborhood park with winding walkways, lovely gardens and children playing.</div>
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Art, however, is ever present in Belleville. As we walked about, Annie, herself an artist, was constantly on the lookout for discarded objects that could be incorporated into her multi-matieral pieces. She, along with 250 other artists, participates every year in the <i><a href="http://ateliers-artistes-belleville.fr/en/les-portes-ouvertes/edition/">Portes Ouvertes de Belleville</a></i>. The event, which has been running for 25 years, attracts more than 50,000 visitors. For information on this year's event, click <a href="http://ateliers-artistes-belleville.fr/en/les-portes-ouvertes/edition/">here</a>. </div>
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With still lots to talk about, I invited Annie to lunch and asked her to choose a local restaurant that she particularly likes. She suggested La Queue de Boeuf, a restaurant that is a perfect example of the diversity of Belleville. The chef Didier, a Frenchman from the Antilles, cooks up wonderful French food with a Creole touch, using only fresh products from the market.<br />
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After a full day of fun and good food, Annie and I said goodbye at the Belleville metro station, with plans to meet again - this time as friends.</div>
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If you are coming to Paris, Greeters is a great way to meet a Parisian and see a part of the city behind the big monuments and museums. Groups can be anywhere from one to six people. Annie and I spoke French, but tours are given in many different languages, which you can choose when you sign up. Be sure to make your request at least a month before your trip. To go to the Paris Greeters web site, click <a href="http://www.parisgreeters.fr/?lang=en">here</a>.<br />
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To see more photos, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/MKzoc5RNz9AeGPiY9" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "lucida grande"; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">A bientôt,</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "lucida grande"; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Geraldine</span></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-86017239094282016292014-02-07T04:10:00.000-05:002016-12-16T14:32:41.821-05:00Paris Sunday on the Seine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Le Pont-Neuf et la Cité by Giuseppe Canella, 1832, Carnavalet Museum, Paris</span></div>
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Last week, the Midwest and the South of the United States shivered under the frigid winds and snows of a <a href="http://ozonewatch.gsfc.nasa.gov/facts/vortex_NH.html">Polar Vortex</a> while California withered in the throes of an unrelenting drought. At the same time, the good citizens in the Italian towns of Pisa and Florence prayed for the rain to stop before the rising waters of the Arno River engulfed their towns. </div>
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In Paris, however, Parisians awoke to a sunny, mild Sunday. It was a day lovely enough to make all the church bells of Paris peal. And they were doing just that as JR and I left our apartment headed for a walk along the banks of the Seine. It's true that it was exactly eleven o'clock when the bells began to ring, but I'm sure that was just a coincidence.</div>
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The entire walk along the Seine, which is open to the public on Sunday only, runs for miles, and most of it is classed as a UNESCO <a href="http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/600">World Heritage Site</a>. And no wonder since both sides of the river are lined with some the city's greatest buildings and monuments, including Notre Dame Cathedral, Sainte Chapelle, the Conciergerie, the Louvre, the Tuileries, the Place de la Concorde, the Grand Palais and the Eiffel Tower. Through it all flows the Seine with its constant traffic of barges and tourist boats, its islands, and 23 of the 37 historic bridges of Paris. </div>
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Parisians of all stripes have been drawn to the riverbanks of the Seine since the founding of Paris centuries ago. Over time, however, the scene has changed considerably. In the middle ages, buildings lined the river, built up against the naturally rising banks. Paris was a bustling port and every bridge in the city was covered with houses, much like the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ponte_Vecchio">Ponte Vecchio</a></i> in Florence. The <i>Pont Neuf</i> (New Bridge), now the oldest bridge in Paris, was built in 1578 and was the first bridge without construction on it. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QLJyPQp4wYE/UvOZe9ESBWI/AAAAAAAAOOg/-DLjdsMdSnk/s1600/800px-Destruction_of_the_houses_on_Pont_Notre_Dame_in_1786_by_Hubert_Robert_1733_1808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QLJyPQp4wYE/UvOZe9ESBWI/AAAAAAAAOOg/-DLjdsMdSnk/s1600/800px-Destruction_of_the_houses_on_Pont_Notre_Dame_in_1786_by_Hubert_Robert_1733_1808.jpg" width="182" /></a></div>
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In the mid-1700s, a huge campaign to make Paris cleaner and healthier was begun. Against the wishes of the inhabitants, as can well be imagined, the order came down to demolish all the houses on all the bridges of Paris - each one of which contained up to 60 tall structures. Throughout the years, several had collapsed and city official feared for their structural integrity. It took more than half a century to accomplish this feat with the houses on the St. Michel bridge being the last to fall in the years between 1807 and 1811. <br />
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The only structural concerns to today's bridges are the "love locks." Several bridges, including the <i>Pont des Arts </i>and the <i>Pont des Archevêché</i> are weighed down with thousands and thousands of these testaments to everlasting love. While the bridges are strong enough to support the weight, the railings and fences are not. On the <i>Pont des Arts</i>, whole sections of the railings are collapsing and are blocked off with barriers and red police tape. Still, on this beautiful Sunday, the bridges were lined with lovers searching for a spot where they could attach their lock and declare their love. (To read Travel Oyster's "Locks of Love in Paris," click <a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2011/02/locks-of-love-in-paris.html">here</a>.)</div>
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Once the old bridges were cleared of buildings, Paris began building new ones in the 19th century. In 1870 alone, 15 bridges were built in Paris - more than in all the previous centuries. The quays were restructured, creating today's upper and lower quays, and in the 1960s, many miles of the lower quay were turned into an expressway open to vehicle traffic only. Parisians, used to walking the whole length of the river, were restricted to a much shorter portion and - like the homeowners of the bridge houses two centuries earlier - they were not happy. </div>
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Now in the 21st century, the city is making a huge effort to once again make the Seine accessible to <i>le peuple.</i> And the people were all there when we arrived -- walkers, runners, skaters, cyclists. Others sat on benches with their faces turned up to the sun. There were babies laughing and crying; dogs barking; lovers embracing and lovers arguing; men and women (and dogs) in everything from furs to ultra chic exercise duds. There were artists painting and tourists snapping photos. </div>
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And there we were among them, on a sunny Sunday morning in Paris, hand in hand, taking one of the most beautiful walks in the world.</div>
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To see more photos past and present, click <a href="https://goo.gl/photos/SL1QkNRwzZbNfjvv8" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Photos unless otherwise noted by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-36422558368529640622014-01-27T08:21:00.000-05:002019-03-24T07:03:50.221-04:00Paris Under Paris<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
…Paris has another Paris under itself; a Paris... which has its streets, its crossings, its squares, its blind alleys, its arteries, and its circulation….Crime, intelligence, social protest, liberty of conscience, thoughts, theft, all that human laws pursue or have pursued, have hidden in this god-forsaken place. </blockquote>
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That's Victor Hugo in Les Miserables describing the dark world beneath the City of Light, which is one of the most extensive undergrounds in the world. Ten stories deep in some places, it's honeycombed with hundreds of miles of metro, sewer, and catacomb tunnels. Water is everywhere - in reservoirs, canals and even the Bievre, a once-beautiful river that cut across the Left Bank of Paris to empty into the Seine. There are old mines and abandoned quarry galleries, whose stone built many of the great monuments of Paris, including the Louvre and several successive walls of the city. Crypts of churches, bank vaults, the foundations of the ancient Louvre palace, the wine museum of Paris and the elevator equipment for the Eiffel Tower all share space in the underworld. Connected by streets that mirror those on the surface, it's littered with dead ends, and legends abound of people who descended on a lark never to emerge.</div>
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And then there are those who are officially there forever. They reside in the Catacombs, the final resting place for the bones of approximately 6 million Parisians past. The first citizens of the Catacombs took up residence in 1786 when their remains were transferred from the Cemetery of the Innocents in central Paris. In use for nearly 10 centuries, the cemetery had become a health hazard for the city's living residents. For two years, night time convoys of carts, loaded with bones covered with black veils, traversed Paris. They were accompanied by a procession of priests in surplices singing the service for the dead. By 1814, the catacombs had received and stacked the remains from all the cemeteries of Paris - rich and poor, young and old, revolutionary and royalist alike. </div>
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Off limits to the public, the underground is illegally visited nightly by an unknown number of <i>cavistes</i> who explore and map the tunnels, paint its walls, party in its galleries, and scuba dive in its reservoirs. Every year, however, another l.4 billion people enter the Paris underground legally, descending into one of the city's 300 metro stations, and riding on 214 kilometers (133 miles) of metro track that crisscross the underworld. </div>
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Before the advent of the metro in 1900, the caverns were a perfect environment for growing mushrooms, known appropriately as <i>champignons de Paris. </i>Once the metro arrived, mushroom cultivation was moved out of the city.</div>
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Several years ago, I read in a guidebook that these famous <i>champignons de Paris</i> were <i>still</i> being grown under the city. The book, which seemed quite reputable, said that the entrance to this "secret spot" was located in the emergency room of the Cochin Hospital in the city's 14th arrondissement, an area riddled with underground caverns. I invited my good friend and long-time accomplice Marcelle to come along. She was somewhat doubtful about the accuracy of my information, but was as always game to explore something different. Since it was my idea, I was the appointed spokesperson, even though Marcelle, being French, would surely have explained things better.</div>
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In the <i>Salle de Urgence</i>, it looked as if everyone had more pressing business, so we began to look on our own for this secret entrance. Finally, a nurse came over to ask if she could help us. "We're looking for the elevator to the mushrooms," I said. Assuming, perhaps, that my French was bad, she replied. "<i>Les champignons, les champignons?</i> You have a fungal infection? You need to see a dermatologist." "No, no," I said, "not that kind of fungus. Mushrooms, <i>champignons de Paris</i>, they grow in the galleries under the hospital and we're looking for the elevator." "Excuse me?" she said - at which point, Marcelle stepped in to better explain the situation. The nurse listened, joined by a couple of orderlies. Even though Marcelle's French was, of course, impeccable, our nurse looked even more confused. "There are no mushrooms," said one of the orderlies, firmly enough so we knew there was no sense in going on. With one more furtive look around, we left with our mission unaccomplished. </div>
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A search of available literature on the subject has yielded little information and illegal entry into the underground is not our forte. However, just last week I discovered an organization of volunteers that conducts an official two-hour, by appointment only tour - 100 steps down beneath Cochin Hospital! Marcelle has written to the organizers to arrange our visit.</div>
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Does the secret mushroom world exist? I'll keep you posted. Or as the French would say, <i>a suivre.</i></div>
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If you want to visit the Paris underground, but don't want to risk an encounter with an officer of the law, here are some official visits:</div>
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<a href="http://www.catacombes.paris.fr/en/visit/access-opening-times-accessibility">The Catacombs</a></div>
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<a href="http://en.parisinfo.com/paris-museum-monument/71499/Musee-des-egouts-de-Paris">The Sewers</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.notredamedeparis.fr/spip.php?article477">Archeological Crypt of Notre Dame</a></div>
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<a href="http://ademas.assoc.free.fr/balades.htm">Paris Metro</a> </div>
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<a href="https://www.louvre.fr/en/histoirelouvres/history-louvre">Foundation of the ancient Louvre palace</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.museeduvinparis.com/index.php/en/">Wine Museum</a></div>
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To read about other adventures that Marcelle and I have had, see the following Travel Oyster posts:</div>
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<a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2009/07/provencal-dinner-in-paris.html">A Provencal Dinner in Paris</a></div>
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<a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2009/03/bretagne-land-of-extremes.html">Bretagne - A Land of Extremes</a></div>
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<a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2012/02/chocolate-in-paris.html">Chocolate in Paris</a></div>
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<a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2009/02/oysters-in-paris.html">Oysters in Paris</a></div>
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<a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2009/01/prvertpr-verre.html">Prévert/Prè Verre</a></div>
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<a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2010/03/biggest-show-in-paris.html">The Biggest Show in Paris</a></div>
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<a href="http://traveloyster.blogspot.fr/2011/01/path-of-impressionists.html">The Path of the Impressionists</a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-40202274254148074602014-01-09T14:12:00.000-05:002014-01-09T14:12:18.294-05:00Love of Paris<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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There was a foot of newly-fallen snow on the ground when we left Michigan. The temperature was -15F (-26C), but the howling wind made it seem much colder. The departure board at the airport was littered with cancellations, but our Air France flight to Paris was marked "on time." That was a bit optimistic and turned out not to be true. Our plane was not on time, mostly because the electronic equipment on the first two fueling trucks froze up. The third one worked, but very slowly. </div>
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Once on the plane, there was another delay when the passenger count came up one person short of the number of passengers checked in. Someone checking in and then not getting on the plane is a red flag in today's security-conscious airline world, so the count had to be taken again and each passenger checked off by name. That seemed to resolve the problem, and with one more de-icing of the plane, we were off - just three hours behind schedule. Eight hours later, after dinner, a film, a couple of hours sleep, and breakfast, the pilot announced that we were cleared for landing in Paris, where it was a balmy 54 degrees (12C).</div>
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We arrived at our apartment late in the afternoon, which gave us enough time to unpack and unwind before meeting a friend for dinner. A Thai restaurant was suggested, but when in Paris, especially your first night in Paris, it's French food you crave. So off we went to a nearby bistro for a hearty lamb casserole. </div>
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Ordinary life goes on even in Paris, which meant that my first day was earmarked for setting up the apartment and shopping for food and supplies. But when it's 60 degrees (15C) in Paris in January and the sun is shining, ordinary life can wait. </div>
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A long serpentine walk brought me in the late afternoon to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C3%B4tel_de_Ville,_Paris">Hôtel de Ville</a>. Besides being the city hall of Paris, the Hôtel de Ville often has great exhibits, free to the public. Right now the facade is adorned with an iconic photograph of two lovers kissing with the words: "Brassaï Pour L'Amour de Paris." The line to get into the exhibit was not long so I decided to go. </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LWwp03XJTiY/Us7K_LYppDI/AAAAAAAAOJ8/fUZhRvwoRCM/s1600/Brassai-La_Tour_Eiffel_1929-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LWwp03XJTiY/Us7K_LYppDI/AAAAAAAAOJ8/fUZhRvwoRCM/s1600/Brassai-La_Tour_Eiffel_1929-poster.jpg" height="200" width="140" /></a></div>
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Brassaï, who was born Gyula Halasz in Brasso, a Hungarian town that is now in Romania, came to Paris in 1924. He took the name Brassaï to honor his home town. He became a French citizen and until his death in 1984, he took black and white photos of the adopted city that he loved. He specialized in Paris by night, roaming the city, photographing the famous and the infamous in cafes, bars and brothels. In his photos, the monuments of the City of Light often emerge out of a misty darkness that renders them romantic and mysterious. His images, many of which appear in the exhibit, beautifully capture Paris in the mid-20th century. It's a great exhibit and if you're in town, be sure to see it. If not, click <a href="http://www.google.fr/search?q=hotel+de+ville+brassai&client=safari&rls=en&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=frzOUurSNqO70QWAk4HoAQ&ved=0CAkQ_AUoAQ&biw=1221&bih=701">here</a> to see a sample of Brassaï's work. </div>
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When I left the Hôtel de Ville, darkness had fallen and a light fog had begun to settle on the city. The photos in the exhibit showed, I thought, a Paris that was no more, but on my walk home, I passed a cafe on a small, dark street. There, at a table in the window, were two lovers kissing. </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A bientôt,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'lucida grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(All photos featured above by Brassaï are in the public domain)</span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4138518655144958694.post-36780163342970503992013-12-30T10:20:00.000-05:002019-09-07T15:23:30.784-04:00Great Books V<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Still Life, Anonymous, 16th Century, Florence</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">We'll be leaving for Paris on January 6 and going on to Pisa in March. In anticipation, I'm reading some great French and Italian detective mysteries. Although it might not seem obvious, a good detective story can be better than the best guide book in providing a window on the culture, history, geography and cuisine of a country. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Auguste Dupin was the first English-language detective in Edgar Allen Poe's <i>The Murders in the Rue Morgue </i>published in 1841. Monsieur Lecoq appeared in France in 1868, and the great detective Sherlock Holmes made his debut in London in 1887. The 1920s and 1930s were considered<i> </i>the<i> </i>highpoint of the genre with the arrival of such famous detectives as Sir Peter Whimsey, Inspector Maigret, Miss Marple and Philip Marlowe. Detective novels continue to be popular into this century. In 2012, mystery novels ranked second in U.S. market share with sales of $728.2 million (Romance novels were first with $1.438 billion in estimated revenue.) </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">In France, a detective or police novel is known as a <i>roman policier </i>or a <i>polar</i>, a slang word derived from <i>policier; </i>in Italy, the books are called <i>libri gialli</i>. <i>Giallo</i> or yellow is the background color used on a series of detective mysteries first published by the Italian publishing house Mondadori in 1929. The books, mostly translations of American and English pulp fiction, had such success that other publishers began producing their own versions, with similar yellow covers. The genre expanded to include thriller and suspense books and films, which are all known in Italy today as <i>gialli.</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">All of Travel Oyster's <i>Great Books V</i> are books in a series so if you like them, you can be assured of plenty of good reading.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"><b>The Châtelet Apprentice</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">published in French as </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "palatino linotype" , "book antiqua" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 18px; line-height: 30px;"><em>L'Énigme des Blancs-Manteaux</em></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">First novel in the Nicolas LeFloch Series</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Jean-François Parot</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Translated into English by Michael Glencross</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">If you love history, want to walk the streets of a meticulously-recreated 18th-century Paris, and consult food menus of the period, then this is the series for you. Our hero, Nicolas LeFloch, raised in Brittany in a religious order, arrives in Paris with a recommendation from his godfather the Marquis of Ranreuill. With such an illustrious backer, the young police officer is quickly involved in intrigue and in the murder of some important people - with implications for King Louis XV himself. As the series develops (there are currently 11 books) LeFloch's personal life and love life become as complicated as the crimes he solves. Along the way, Parot has his fictional characters rub elbows with authentic historical figures, including LeFloch's boss, Antoine de Sartine, who was the lieutenant general of police at the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Châtelet in Paris from 1759-1774. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Although numerous physical changes have occurred in Paris in the intervening 250 years, it's amazing how many of the streets, buildings and markets that LeFloch frequents still exist in modern-day Paris. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"><b>Murder in the Marais</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">First novel in the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Aimée Leduc Investigations</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Cara Black</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Modern-day private investigator Aimée Leduc wears high heels, Chanel suits and and zooms up to the scene of the crime on her trademark motorcycle. Underneath her classic exterior, however, Leduc is pure punk. The suits are from second-hand shops in Paris; the heels are often thrown in her bag as she chases criminals through some of the city's seediest streets; and the motorcycle is frequently in the repair shop. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Like all interesting fictional characters, Leduc's personal life is complicated.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"> She</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"> is the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">daughter of an American mother, who disappeared when</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Aimée </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">was eight years old, and a French father, who was also an investigator. When her father is killed during a stakeout, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Aimée</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"> abandons her studies at the Sorbonne to take over his business. Her specialty is computer forensics and corporate security - a business that doesn't sound as if it should lead to murder, but it does, again and again, in every neighborhood of Paris. Her work takes her to many famous areas of Paris, but also to other neighborhoods unknown to most visitors. Although the author Cara Black lives in California, she knows the ins and outs of Paris better than most Parisians, and her descriptions of the city are accurate and intriguing. For a list of all the books in the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Aimée Leduc Investigations, click <a href="http://carablack.com/books/">here</a>.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"><b>Death at La Fenice</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">The first in the Commissario Guido Brunetti Series</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Donna Leon</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">In this first novel of the wonderful Commissario Brunetti mysteries, a world-renowned musical conductor is found dead during the intermission of <i>La Traviata </i>at Venice's famed theater, La Fenice. Turns out someone put cyanide in his coffee. Commissario Brunetti's investigation leads him not only behind the scenes of the world of opera, but also into the conductor's murky past. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">There is no shortage of suspects, b</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">ut the suave, urbane Brunetti is a master of detection. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">The author, American Donna Leon, has lived in Venice for almost 30 years and has written 22 Brunetti mysteries since this first one was published in 1992. The beautiful city of canals</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"> shares top billing with Brunetti, his family and friends, and the crooks and murderers who inhabit not only the back allies of Venice, but also its fabled palazzos. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Venice may be known as <i>La Serenissima, </i>but life in </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Leon's Venice is anything but serene. <i>(</i>The title <i>La Serenissima </i>actually refers to the Venetian Republic's historical sovereignty.)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">The Commissario Brunetti mysteries are translated into 24 languages, but the glaring exception is Italian. It's been speculated in the Italian press that Leon is afraid to have her books published in Italian because she fears Italians may be offended by what she says about their country. In an interview, however, Leon said: "the people in my neighborhood know that I am the American who lives opposite Nando and above Angelo Costantini and it would just change the tenor of my life...But I'm not afraid, if people don't like the books, read another book." I think that for most people, once you read one Brunetti novel, you'll want to read them all. (Fans of Brunetti are in luck: the 23rd book in the series, <i>By Its Cover</i>, will be available in April 2014.) </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;"><b>The Shape of Water</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">published in Italian as <i>La forma dell'acqua</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">First book in the Inspector Montalbano series</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Andrea Camilleri</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Translated into English by Stephen Sartarelli</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Author Andrea Camilleri was little known outside of his native Italy until in 1994, at age 70, he wrote <i>La forma dell' acqua (The Shape of Water). </i>The book introduces us to Inspector Salvo Montalbano and the world of crime, violence, sex and intrigue in the fictional Sicilian town of </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Vigàta.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Montalbano is an engaging character, somewhat contentious, but honest and decent - although he knows, as Camilleri says: "that sometimes refusing to obey an order is a virtue, not a sin." An avid reader of detective novels and a lover of good food, Montalbano is adept at navigating the seamy underworld of the Mafi</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">a and its web of crime. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Food often plays a part in Italian novels, but Montalbano <i>really </i>loves food. A culinary discussion can pop up anywhere in a Montalbano book, even at the scene of a crime. At a restaurant, Montalbano may d</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">eliver a tirade on Italy's former prime minister Silvio Berlusconi, but when the food arrives, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">silence reigns. N</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">ot even a beautiful woman sitting across from him can distract him from the pleasures of his food - at least not until the meal is finished. (Click <a href="http://www.vigata.org/cucina/ricette.shtml">here</a> for Camilleri's web page containing recipes from the books.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Sicily, with all its beauty and its corruption, comes to life in the Montalbano series, but the entire country is represented in the astute commentary on the social history of Italy for the last 20 years. In an interview in the Guardian newspaper, the author said: I deliberately decided to smuggle into a detective novel a critical commentary on my times. This also allowed me to show the progression and evolution in the character of Montalbano." </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">There are now 22 books in the series (16 of them have been translated into English) and Camilleri is known the world over. At 88 years old, the author doesn't know how many more Montalbano books he has in him, but it's certain that there will be at least one more. Camilleri has already written that last Montalbano mystery and deposited it with his publisher. When he gets tired of Montalbano or can't write any more, the book will be published. "I finished him off," says Camilleri. I, for one, am hoping Andrea Camilleri and Salvo Montalbano live a long, long time.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Happy New Year and </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Happy Reading,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 16px;">Geraldine </span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">If you have a comment, I'd love to hear from you. To do so, just click on the work comment below.</div>Travel Oysterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02838876734789827096noreply@blogger.com6