The Parc de Belleville, 18 November 2009

This is my second posting of the day. On Thursday, I wrote some of my musings as inspired by fellow blogger Betsy Shaw (see here), but I did not get to the point where I was ready to post the blog, so I revised it a little today, posted, and now am continuing what I had hoped to finish yesterday and did not: the last part of new friend Karen’s and my adventure to the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, the Parc de Belleville, and Cimitière Père Lachaise.

The Adventure, Continued: Cimitière Père Lachaise

I have already written about the first and second parts of the adventure of my new friend Karen and I went on here and here. The third part of our adventure was to the Cimitière Père Lachaise, what is possibly the best cemetery in the world!

I love going to Père Lachaise. Part park, part sacred ground, it is 118 acres of a visual feast. I love to photograph there as there are so very many fascinating headstones, statues, and other memorials. The colors and textures are beautiful. Plus there are the resting places of so very many famous people for both the French and residents of other countries: Frédéric Chopin, Oscar Wilde, Sarah Berhardt and, the Lizard King — Jim Morrison of The Doors.

Karen and I walked from the Parc de Belleville to the cemetery.

Map from Mappy.com

We exited the park at the southwest at the Passage Julien Lacroix (the little sticky-outy bit at the south of the park where Rue Julien Lacroix joins Rue des Couronnes). We continued east on the Rue des Couronnes to the Rue Henri Chevreau and then south to the Rue de Ménilmontant.

Map from Mappy.com

The park around our point of exit at the Passage Julien Lacroix.

Karen noticed this sign on the side of what appeared to be an apartment building on Rue des Couronnes.

Hmmmm. RAPE 66? We were really wondering what that could be about!

We saw a lot of paintings on buildings like this. I have noticed these in the area around the Canal Saint-Martin, too. Some take trompe l’oeil to a whole new level! Some are just fun like this one.

I think this one must have been on Rue Henri Chevreau. I know it was before we got to the Place de Ménilmontant, which on the map up there is where you see the green bit with the cross in the middle of it on the Rue de Ménilmontant.

That’s because these photos are next:

This plaza is where the l’Eglise Notre Dame de la Croix is located.

Just to let you know the crazy things that go through my head as I write, I put in and took out the “the” in that sentence about five times. The “L” with the apostophe there means in French either le or la — depending on the gender of the noun which it precedes (no idea if “eglise” is masculine or feminine, but I am guessing feminine, so “la”) – which is “the” in English. It is contracted there because it precedes a vowel. It is bothering me on some level to be writing what amounts to “the the Church of Our Lady of the Cross,” but it sounds stupid in English without the first “the” to my internal ear. What’s a writer girlie to do in these situations, eh?

The l’Eglise de Notre Dame de la Croix

This is the photo from the Parc de Belleville with the church in the distance:

Something else that made me understand that Karen is a chica I can really be in sync with is that when we were discussing which route to take to the  intersection of the Boulevard de Ménilmontant and Avenue Gambetta in the map down there, either the Rue Duris route or the Rue des Amandiers, she spoke up and said “I think the Rue des Amandiers because I like almond trees!”

Amandiers, as you might have guessed, means “almond trees.” I love a girl with my kind of logic. We did not take the route that seemed the shortest distance, but the route that sounded the coolest based on its name. So, Almond Trees Street it was.

A side street off the Rue des Amandiers.

More trompe l’oeil, which by the way I have learned since coming to France is pronounced “tromp loh-eeee” with a slight little “yuh” at the end, which is how the “L” is not pronounced. Ahhhh, French pronunciation!

(You might want to click on that photo to see it larger in Flickr. It really is very cute to see the things going on in each “apartment” there in more detail. Also, I just said “tromp loh-eeee-yuh” to myself about five times, extending the “eeee” each time, until I had myself in giggles. See? Total weirdo am I! I remember doing that as a kid though: saying a word over and over until it sounded absolutely ridiculous. If you don’t know what I am talking about, try it sometime! I guarantee you will wind up giggling, too, or your money back!)

And still more trompe l’oeil. (I bet you said it out loud that time and giggled, didn’t you?! )

An apartment courtyard.

This is the plaque on the side of an apartment building which says:

In the memory of

ZALKINOV Anna

ZALKINOV Rachel

MOYEN Raymond

MOYEN Alkmar Julie

Deported and killed by the Nazis

and of

ZALKINOV Noél   Father

ZALKINOV Fernand  Son

Members of the French Communist Party

Shot by the Germans

9 August 1942

I wrote about Tatiana de Rosnay’s Sarah’s Key in the previous posts about Karen’s and my adventure, especially in my post about the Parc des Buttes Chaumont. It was touching and interesting to see a plaque such as this pop up out of nowhere, yet another memorial to the atrocities that happened during World War II in Paris.

We saw more memorials, too. I have noticed on various school buildings in the 19th arrondisement this plaque. We came across another one like this one earlier in our day, too:

It basically is memorializing the 390 children who lived in the 19th, especially the ones who attended this school, and who were exterminated by the Nazis from 1942 to 1944. It says that they were innocent victims of the barbarism of the Nazis with the complicity of the Vichy Government, something I wrote about in that previous blog. I added the italics there as that part of the plaque is so important! The barbarism of the Nazis has never been disputed as official party line in France. The italicized portion there is an indication of the shift in official policy ever since the 1995 speech of Jacques Chirac where he condemned the role of the French government and its law enforcement branch as being “complicit” in the Nazi regime in occupied France.

Interestingly, Karen’s and my touching upon this part of Paris’ history was not over with seeing the plaque memorializing the family up there. More on that in a bit.

From the Mappy.com map below (the link connects directly to the cemetery map, not Mappy.com in general, if you care to see the whole of it), you can see how the Rue des Amandiers meets Place Auguste Métivier/Avenue Gambetta. I usually go into the corner entrance of the cemetery there. It is across the street from where M° Père Lachaise, Lines 2 and 3, exits at the Boulevard de Ménilmontant.

I am also so in love with Google Maps! I love how it is possible to zoom right in on actual photographs of the area in question. The below is a screen capture of the same stuff in the Mappy.com map above it.

Google Maps, Cimitière Père Lachaise.

To play “virtual tourist,” click on the link there and then click on the “Street View” link in the description of Père Lachaise.  (You may have to first click on Point A to be able to do that. In fact, by doing so myself, I learned the link takes you to the Rue de Repos entrance, one I do not know about. If you click on “D,” the Métro Père Lachaise, then “travel” down the Blvd Ménilmontant to the south, you can see the entrance I usually go in at the northwest corner of the cemetery.)

A closer view of the intersection near the Blvd de Ménimmontant entrance to Père Lachasie.

And, the screen capture from Google Maps of the street view of the Blvd de Ménilmontant entrance. There is usually a guy with a map stand at that entrance (the stone doorway there on the right) selling cemetery maps for about 2 €. I *highly recommend* that you buy a map. I use mine every time I go there as Pére Lachaise feels like a small city unto itself!

(I am kind of laughing at myself with this post at this point. I *dearly LOVE* to get these screen captures and maps and show you exactly where I have been and how YOU can get there, too! It also really helps me re-live the experience and then be able to write about it, recalling each and every street traveled, and what I saw there. My oh my I love the Internet! It is a reader and writer’s dream-come-true to me.)

Ahhhhh. Okay, so where was I? That’s right: map of the cemetery. GET ONE. Spend the two euro to have one! I know they are also sold in the flower shop there to the left of the stone doorway entrance.

A word to the wise about the cemetery, too: wear comfortable shoes and be prepared to get some exercise. This would not be the kind of place to bring the 85-year-old mother and the three-year-old. Nor anyone who has bad knees or feet or any other kind of impairment involved with walking. This is not going to be a wheelchair-friendly place, either, not that France, in general, is friendly that way. They are working at it, but at a snail’s pace compared to the States. I wish it were different for folks who have special needs, but it is not, unfortunately. Maybe in the future it will be different. For now, though, please experience this virtual tour. I mean, with the Internet, you can see it all! The wind may not be blowing in your hair, and you may not feel the sun on your face, nor the rain on your back, if it is that kind of a day, but you can at least get an idea about what it is like there.

Oh My Goodness, Now What?

I actually, at this point in this post said out loud, with a great sigh, “Oh my gaaaaawd!”

I have so many photos and so many things to write about this journey.

I think what I am going to do at this point is choose my Top Five photos from the afternoon, post them here, and then go over to the Flickr Set of this afternoon and annotate the photos there with descriptions that are more specific to each photo. How does that sound? I am already feeling like, at just over 1,800 words for this post, that I could write a WHOLE NOVEL just based on this one day! LOL! And it is exhausting me. But, I still want to tally words for NaNoWriMo to see how far past 50K I can go, so I will push on just a wee bit more.

Before I post the five photos, though, I would like to write about first, Héloïse and Abélard, and second, a woman we encountered when we got to the main entrance within the cemetery, which is a little further down Blvd Ménilmontant.

Karen and I met her while we were looking for the memorial tomb of Héloïse et Abélard.

Héloïse and Abélard

The Wikipedia article on Père Lachaise, in the section called “Origins,” says the following;

At the time of its opening, the cemetery was considered to be situated too far from the city and attracted few funerals. Consequently, the administrators devised a marketing strategy and with great fanfare organised the transfer of the remains of La Fontaine and Molière, in 1804. Then, in another great spectacle in 1817, the purported remains of Pierre Abélard and Héloïse were also transferred to the cemetery with their monument’s canopy made from fragments of the abbey of Nogent-sur-Seine (by tradition, lovers or lovelorn singles leave letters at the crypt in tribute to the couple or in hope of finding true love).

Pierre Abélard was

a medieval French scholastic philosopher, theologian and preeminent logician.

(Wikipedia)

At the tender age of 22, he set up his first school in north-central France, and then moved closer to Paris where his teaching became well-known and he had quite a following of pupils.

I love how the same Wikipedia article expresses the next bit of information, so I am just going to quote it rather than get more creative on my own:

Distinguished in figure and manners, Abelard was seen surrounded by crowds — it is said thousands of students — drawn from all countries by the fame of his teaching. Enriched by the offerings of his pupils, and entertained with universal admiration, he came, as he says, to think himself the only undefeated philosopher in the world. But a change in his fortunes was at hand. In his devotion to science, he had always lived a very regular life, enlivened only by philosophical debate: now, at the height of his fame, he encountered romance.

Oh la la! Romance!

Painting from 1822 by Edward Blair Leighton: A Scene of Abélard Schooling Héloïse

Héloïse, young, certainly beautiful, and very intelligent, was living under the care of her uncle, the canon Fulbert, as his ward, when Abélard sought a position in Fulbert’s home as tutor to Héloïse. He set about to seduce her and was successful. Abélard became something of a braggart about his conquest, the affair was apparently also interfering with his teaching, and they were found out by her uncle. He forbade them to see one another, but they continued to meet in secret. Héloïse got pregnant, and upon this discovery was sent off to Brittany by Abèlard, where she gave birth to a son and named him “Astrolabe” after the navigational instrument.

[Aside: BWAH HAH HAH!!! ASTROLABE!! Hahahahahaha! Poor kid. Reminiscent, too of Hollywood parents naming their children interesting things as well, like Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin's daughter "Apple." Only this was in the 12th Century, A.D.]

In an attempt to smooth Fulbert’s ruffled feathers and unsully his reputation as a teacher, Abélard proposed a secret marriage to Héloïse. Héloïse initially rejected this proposal, but still they married.

The Wikipedia article states what happened next:

When Fulbert publicly disclosed the marriage, and Héloïse denied it, she went to the convent of Argenteuil at Abélard’s urging. Fulbert, believing that Abélard wanted to be rid of Héloïse, had him castrated, effectively ending Abélard’s career. Héloïse was forced to become a nun. Héloïse sent letters to Abélard, questioning why she must submit to a religious life for which she had no calling.

[Aside: Castration ending Abélard's career??? Career as what? Stud stallion? I do not understand that part. I guess one has to be acculturated into 12th Century mores to get that one. Sounds like there was a major misunderstanding, though. Oh, miscommunication! This has the markings of a Shakespearean tragedy à la Romeo and Juliet, no? I wonder if Shakespeare knew about these two when he was crafting his tales for the stage. I'm sure he did. There are even some very cool modern cultural references about Abélard and Héloïse.]

So, Abélard joined a monastery, re-started a school, got disillusioned, took joy in irritating monks (he is sounding kind of like an annoying, arrogant smartypants, this Abélard!), and then he was allowed to leave the monastery. This next part makes me laugh. When all else fails, go turn into a hermit, wear a hairshirt, and build a hut out of sticks!

In a deserted place near Nogent-sur-Seine, he built a cabin of stubble and reeds, and became a hermit. When his retreat became known, students flocked from Paris, and covered the wilderness around him with their tents and huts. When he began to teach again, he found consolation and in gratitude he consecrated the new Oratory of the Paraclete.

Héloïse, meanwhile, became a well-respected nun, accepted fully her religious fate, eventually becoming an abbess in the Paraclete. They wrote letters to one another in which she expresses her resignation to her and Abélard’s being as spiritual brother and sister to one another, in holy love. The Wikipedia article on Héloïse says the following about this period of time:

About this time, correspondence began between the two former lovers. After Abélard left the Paraclete, fleeing persecution, he wrote his Historia Calamitatum, explaining his tribulations both in his youth as a philosopher only and subsequently as a monk.

Héloïse responded, both on the behalf of the Paraclete and herself. In letters which followed, Héloïse expressed dismay at problems Abélard faced, but scolded him for years of silence following the attack upon him, since Abélard was still wed to Héloïse.

Thus began a correspondence both passionate and erudite. Héloïse encouraged Abélard in his philosophical work and he dedicated his profession of faith to her. At one point, she tells him to share every detail of his life and not to shield her from unpleasantness.

Ultimately, after telling Héloïse of instances where he had abused her and forced sex, Abélard insisted he’d never truly loved her, but only lusted after her, and their relationship was a sin against God.

Some scholars consider Abélard was attempting to spare her feelings (or his feelings, altered from disrupted hormones [from the castration]) and others point to the damage of his hormones and psyche, but from this point on, their correspondence focused on professional subjects rather than their romantic history.

There are sections both of the Wikipedia articles on Héloïse and Abélard referring to religious intrigue and persecution of Abélard and his eventual expulsion from the Paraclete, but what stands out the most in the remainder of it is this piece of information. Upon his death in 1142, his last purported words were:

I don’t know.

Oh my! Could not have said it better myself.

His remains were given into Héloïse’s care at the Paraclete, where she was still abbess. Upon her death in 1163 or 1164, she was supposedly buried with him there at the Paraclete, and, after several moves of the remains, they allegedly rest together as of 1817 in Père Lachaise.  Some say they do not rest there, and it is only a memorial; others say it is only Abélard’s remains there.

This website says the following about Héloïse and Abélard:

The two were ultimately reunited, in death and burial, at Pere Lachaise Cemetery in the 12th century. They are buried in the same crypt and are the oldest residents of that famous address. The abbesses [sic] who added Heloise’s body to Abelard’s crypt swore that his arms opened to receive her in an eternal embrace.

Regardless, it is a monument dedicated to life-long romance, and thwarted romance, and tragic romance. ***SIGHHH***

Here is my photo of the crypt, which is covered by scaffolding most of the year as it needs constant refurbishing after Valentine’s Day, when allegedly hundreds gather to leave messages with hopes,wishes, and desires for true love, according to a self-appointed tour guide we ran into at the cemetery.

That’s Héloïse on the left, when standing at the foot of the tomb. The somewhat odd, wild-eyed and wild-haired self-appointed cemetery guide (I wish I had snapped his photo) told us the dog at the foot of the tomb was a symbol of fidelity.

We were to discover unofficial guides such as this are a bit common in the cemetery: people who love the cemetery and are knowledgeable about it want to show people to different graves. They hang about and walk around looking for people with whom to share information. As far as we could tell, Karen and I did not think they wanted money for any services rendered. They just seemed to want to talk about the cemetery and tombs. Maybe we were naïve about the whole thing, but it was interesting to hear the man we ran into speak about this crypt. We ran into another man later who offered to take us to Molière and La Fontaine’s tombs. We let him show us. He did not ask for remuneration, and in any case, neither Karen nor I had small change to offer so we did not try to give him any money.  I am uncertain about the role and desires of these folks who hang about, waiting to show people where graves are, but she and I took advantage of the situations and learned a lot. It was also useful that Karen spoke French as one of the guides we ran into spoke only French.

The Interesting Woman

But not the anonymous woman who came up to us, clearly a tourist as well, but also clearly a French one. She was probably in her 70s, a petite woman, with white hair in a chignon, wearing glasses, and who was smartly dressed in a practical, older French woman sort of way. She had her map in French with names written on it (not Jim Morrison, although he is the cemetery’s number one resident in terms of visits) and areas circled in pen. When she first saw us, she must have taken us for French women, for she started talking to us in French. Karen tried to keep up, but then when I turned to Karen and said something in English, the lady said, in English, “Oh! You speak English! I could tell from your expressions you were not understanding me completely,” and proceeded to negotiate the rest of the conversation in English. She was so excited, exuberant, to be searching for all the famous people on her list.

What was most interesting was, out of the blue, she started talking about, guess what, of all things? The Vichy Government during the war. I understood from her comments that she had been a child during wartime in Paris. She spoke about the fear, and the disgust she had for complicit French collaborators with the Nazis, some of whom she was saying were buried in the cemetery.

It was so curious that fresh after finishing Sarah’s Key, Karen and I ran into yet more evidence and conversation about this dark period in Paris’ history.

I enjoyed that woman so much. Her spirit and enthusiasm were contagious. I remember thinking about her when we were conversing with her for the time we were,  I hope I can be like her when I am her age.

Also, it was her, when I said I was from Colorado and living with my “boyfriend”  in Paris, then waxing on about how it seemed silly to call an almost 50-year-old man (he is 46 next week, and will likely bristle a little at the “almost 50″ part, but it is true!), my “boyfriend,” she looked me in the eye knowingly and said, “He is the l’amour de ton coeur.”

She could not have been more correct. Thank you, delightful woman, whoever and wherever you are, for that knowing and understanding phrase.

Top Five Photos for the Day

In conclusion, here are my favorite photos of the cemetery that day.

A statue I had never seen before in the six or so visits I have made to the cemetery.

Offerings. A 26-hour candle, and a moldy orange.

Karen, leaving a lipstick kiss on Oscar Wilde’s grave.

Mr. Fucker and Me

And last, but not least,

Intricate Shadows

If you made it all the way here, thank you for reading it all! This was such a wonderful day spent with Karen, and it really will go down as one of my best ever in the city because of all the serendipitous things we saw and did.

Until later then, I am Your,

pariskarin

an alien parisienne

The pretty sunrise this morning, outside our window.

I woke up to see this outside the windows in our dining area.

And this:

(Taken with the dusk/dawn settings on my Nikon Coolpix.)

And this:

What great colors to wake up to!

And waking up is what I am trying to do today.

As a part of my wake-up process, I have had a couple of Italian espresso stove top pots of decaf (apparently there is *just enough* caff in decaf and the rich delicious flavor of coffee still present to fake my body out and think it is getting the goods), read through emails, and caught up on a couple of friend’s blogs.

New Moon

One friend, The Mamerific One, linked me into this post here: Jennsylvania – New New Moon. Go read it. Really. Now. It won’t take long. If you have seen Twilight 2: New Moon, it should make you laugh hard and long, and even if you haven’t, you will still laugh.

That was the movie, right there in the post. It took you, what? Five minutes, max, to read? The screenwriter and director took 130 min to do the same thing — GAH! Jennsylvania’s version is WAY better, too, IMHO. Her action figures did a better job of acting in her version. Hee! No, seriously. Her photos of the action figures and their expressions were *exactly* like the ones the actors were making in the movie.

Oh I feel bad, kinda, that I love to hate that movie so much. I think it is that I want to get back at the moviemakers for not only wasting 130 minutes of my time, but also for making me not like a story I really was kind of getting into. *sigh*

I still want to read the books, though.

I spent a little time reading up on Jennsylvania: About Jen Lancaster, and was surprised/intrigued/envious to learn that yet another blogger becomes a writer. Her website/blog became popular back in the early 2000s when she wrote about being unemployed, but it was not until she stopped working to pursue writing full-time that she got an agent and then her first book written and published. It was not quite the Julie Powell nor petite anglaise blogger-to-writer fairytale kind of discovery. But close.

I still think about this — doing what I am doing here, and wondering if trying to write 50,000 words in the month of November will really amount to anything.

By the way. Somewhere up there in that section, I did it. I hit 50k.

Another France Blogger

I ran into this blog kind of by accident on babycenter.com.

This morning I was looking through email, and happened to click on one from BabyCenter. I have subscribed to emails from them since about February 2005 when I got pregnant with my youngest child. I still get their updates, which speak to parenting issues starting with pregnancy to middle childhood and are geared towards the specific age of one’s child(ren) based on data that one inputs on his or her profile. I never unsubscribed.  Sometimes I read the emails, sometimes I don’t as stuff like that is a painful reminder I am not with my kids full-time right now. Today I happened to open the email, though, and saw something at the bottom of the page (where the yellow star is. I am very taken with the Windows 7 version of Paint right now!).

It says down there (and you can see the larger version on Flickr, if you like), “Bring on the Blogs” and the first one listed is “Babes’ Blog” with the link “Falsely accused in French.” Taken by the words “Blog” and “French” I popped on over and discovered Betsy Shaw’s blog on mothering two daughters while living in central France through this post here: Babes’ Blog, Week 116: Mean people make me tired. Poor Betsy! Oh if that story does not take the cake on crazy asshole neighbors, I don’t know what does.

I back-blog lurked a little bit before deciding I really needed to  work on my own blog, but discovered that Betsy, who has lived in (is from?) Vermont, has a husband named Ian, two daughters named Isla and Esther who are preschool and young elementary school-aged, and previously lived in the UK. That’s all I know so far. I kind of choked up and got teary at her descriptions in many a blog I read today about how she does not understand the language, and what a difficulty this is.

For example,

But there was more to it than that. It was cultural. It was being afraid, feeling vulnerable, out of my element. All this was underlined by the fact that we don’t speak the same language. Theo, and his mom and dad, will soon be our neighbors–in a village of just 30 inhabitants– and I can’t communicate with them. This is awkward enough on its own, without my having to always be worried he’s going to push Isla down the well, teach her to spit on people, or poke her eye out with a sharp stick.

(From Babes’ Blog, Week 91: Trying to like the boy next door)

This was not the only post where Betsy so aptly describes what it is to be dependent on Ian, who speaks French, and what it is to not understand, and to feel anxious and helpless in cross-cultural and multi-lingual situations. I was relieved reading her words, thinking, “It’s not just me who feels this way!” I have her linked saved, and will be checking back in.

ALERT!!!

While I have been composing this blog, Betsy already hopped over to my previous post and left a lovely comment!! I have since discovered she has a Blogspot blog here: NumbMum dot blogspot dot com. YAY!! Something that will show up in Google Reader! I am so excited! Thank you, Betsy! I also read a couple of previous posts, and it seems our youngest children may have been born the same week in 2005. Maybe more on that later, but I am loving reading Betsy’s stories so far!

(This is one of those “blogging is so cool!!” days and I am glad I have been doing this — albeit in scattered places — for as long as I have been.)

More on Author Tatiana de Rosnay

I blogged yesterday about Tatiana de Rosnay’s book Sarah’s Key. I gave some background and a brief non-spoiling summary of the novel, as well as wrote about a French memorial in the Parc des Buttes Chaumont for Jewish children whose lives were lost in the Holocaust.

I found a couple of good reviews of her book, which I wanted to link here:

Jen’s Book Thoughts: Sarah’s Key – the author left a comment on this blog, thanking the blogger for her review! How cool is that?

Books on the Brain: Sarah’s Key – the reviewer’s book club asked Tatiana de Rosnay a series of questions here: Q & A with Tatiana de Rosnay

Last but not least, there is a film being made of Sarah’s Key right now in Paris! You can read more about it on the author’s website here (www.tatianaderosnay.com), and on an older blog in regards to Sarah’s Key here. Kristin Scott Thomas is in the lead role of Julia, which is so perfect as the actress is fully bilingual (she has lived in France since she was 19 and become a French national, see Wikipedia here), has already starred in several French films, and carries with her the authenticity that will allow her to become Julia Jarmond. I hope that it will be a good film. It is being produced and directed in France, so I am not sure if it will make it to the States, but I hope it does.

If you are interested in Paris, in France, or in the history of World War II, or about the challenges of an expatriate woman facing midlife with a marriage on the rocks and a 10-year-old daughter, read this book. It is one that will stick with me for a long time. I also cannot look at Paris quite the same after reading it. Thank you, Mme. de Rosnay, for writing this book.

*shllllluuurrrpppppp*

Did you hear that noise???

That was me, getting sucked into Flickr and fixing a bunch of stuff on the site for my profile. Turns out I had a bajillion nice comments from people, notably Ken, who reads and comments on this blog, and I was not getting alerts for them. All is fixed now. WHEW. In the meantime, as far as time suckage goes, Flickr is worse than Facebook for me! I think an hour just went by and I still have more to write for this blog, hang one load of laundry, wash another and then hang it, and try to get to Leader Price to get some groceries!! That, and I am realizing I need to do a LOT more to organize photos on Flickr. Oy.

And now what I really hoped to write about today…

I have been uploading photos of the film premiere of Jim Jarmusch’s latest flick, The Limits of Control (will blog about it later, I hope), but what I would like to write about today is the walk Karen and I continued to take from the Buttes Chaumont to the Parc de Belleville.

Here’s a map:

This one, from fr.mappy.com, shows how the Parc des Buttes Chaumont, the Parc de Belleville, and the Cimitière Père Lachaise are laid out in a row, moving from north to south.

Karen and I exited at that pointy bit of the southern end of the Buttes Chaumont and carried on south on Avénue Simon Bolivar (can’t find the accent for the “o” in “Simon” right now. Sorry, dude), until we got to M° Pyrénées. At the Métro stop, we turned west (or right) on the Rue de Belleville (the “B” in “Belleville” is cut off by the “M” for “Métro” up there) until we got to Rue Piat, where we turned left and walked until we came to this view:

And then, as we walked a little further, this one:

Yes! That is the Eiffel Tower on the right! Yes! That is the Tour Montparnasse on the left!

I think I exclaimed about a million times on coming up to the top of this park, “This is SO COOL!!“

And it is. Really, kids, if you want an expansive view of Paris, between the view of the Sacré Coeur from the Belvédère in the Buttes Chaumont, and this view from the Parc de Belleville, you cannot go wrong. Nooo, it may not be as cool as the view of classic central Paris from the Eiffel Tower or the l’Arc de Triomphe (although I would not know as I have not seen either view), I have to say for FREE you can get this kind of view just by going to the 19th and 20th arrondissements for an afternoon! And this neighborhood, my neighborhood, is so cute, too!

Check out this café:

The cake on the cherry! Is that adorable or what? They claimed to have bagel sandwiches, too, and if I were still eating them, I would go there to try one. They can be tough to find in Paris.

Check out this interesting apartment building. There was a fenced courtyard here. There was no “back” on that building. See the window? That was it. Where the yellow side of the building ends at that corner, that is it. It was like someone kept a dormer window and lopped off the rest of the building! I also cracked up at the little kid’s pants hanging in the tree. Why??? How/under what circumstances did they get there? Weird…

There are funkycool views like this one! There is the sign pointing to the park. The Maison de l’Air is a museum dedicated to air, and is at the top of the park, too:

This was a very pretty, very peaceful, very interesting park.

I think I am going to stop here for the day. I invite you to check out the photo set I have of this journey on Flickr here: 18 November 2009 – Parc de Belleville & Père Lachaise, where there are more photographs of our walk.

Up and coming: A little about Pére Lachaise Cemetery and how Karen and I walked there from the Parc de Belleville, what I did this past Saturday, and how the Jarmusch movie went.

Until then, over and out.

Liens INA (Institut National de l’Audiovisuel)

Bellevillle détruit / destruction of Belleville :

http://www.ina.fr/playlist/sport/belleville50.262532.I04267199.non.fr.html#containerVideo

Belleville et ses habitants / Belleville and it’s inhabitants :

http://www.ina.fr/playlist/sport/belleville50.262532.I04267198.non.fr.html#containerVideo

La campagne à Paris / The landscape in Paris

http://www.ina.fr/playlist/sport/belleville50.262532.I04265159.non.fr.html#containerVideo

Mémoire de Belleville / Memory of Belleville

http://www.ina.fr/playlist/sport/belleville50.262532.CPC96000684.non.fr.html#containerVideo

Passeports pour Belleville / Passports for Belleville

http://www.ina.fr/economie-et-societe/environnement-et-urbanisme/video/CPC01001130/passeports-pour-belleville.fr.html

Ces liens sont repris du site RUE DU PRESSOIR

EXILE Gallery’s first exhibit opened in Belleville Friday night when they began posting bits of statements 1 through 11 of the B-Ville Manifesto along rue Piat and rue de Belleville in Paris.

EXILE gallery's first exhibit, rue Piat, Belleville

Did I mention EXILE was on rue Piat?

EXILE's exhibit continues on rue de Belleville.

Posting sequentially, statement 11 fell in front of a butcher shop. “Cities grind and like enormous sausage makers produce their wares. Soon it will be our turns. Cruelty is not worth the effort. Stars are lost on the beach.”

The label was actually stuck to a post a few feet away from the shop.

Butchershop, rue de Belleville

The first showing of Geneviève de Parnier’s videos is scheduled for next week. To find out where and when, follow EXILE Gallery on twitter at http://twitter.com/exilegallery.

View of the Parisian skyline with the Tour Montparnasse on the left and the Tour Eiffel on the right, from the Parc de Belleville, 18 November 2009

Hello all!

I am getting a *really* late start today, and I do not think I will have a very high word count as a result. Word count for my NaNoWriMo Project, that is, which is this blog.

Yesterday I met lovely reader Karen, who is an absolute delight! I so enjoyed meeting with her. I am really grateful that we connected here on An Alien Parisienne, and we had the most spectacular day yesterday — really one of my Top Five Days in the city, I think.  We met in the 19th at M° Jaurés, walked to the Buttes Chaumont, walked to the Parc de Belleville and then through Belleville to Cimitière Père Lachaise. After that, we passed through the Square Samuel de Champlain and on to Gambetta, just near the town hall of the 20th to have a cup of coffee at Le Gambetta café. I have already posted the photos on Flickr in this set. I have some interesting stories to share, too, but they are going to have to wait until tomorrow! No time today. The photos tell the story in pictures, though, and you are welcome to check the set out!

I got kind of hung up today on answering emails, catching up on a little blog reading, answering more emails and posts on Facebook — and then talking to my best friend Janet on the phone for quite some time (at least an hour). Then there was preparing some rice, washing a few dishes… I have had quite a time of it today getting here and being able to post.

But, posting I am. Every word counts.I was thinking today, knowing that I would not have time to write something extensive on the previous weekend with my friend Tess nor about the novel Sarah’s Key, nor anything about my adventures yesterday besides what I already have, and I started to think about a topic on which I could sit and type for about half an hour. I started to think about friendships and gratitude for the friendships in my life, old and new.

Living in a foreign country is not easy. Back a few posts, I had written about some of my cross-cultural coping methods (à la David Lebovitz), and in that list I completely forgot to include “having and making friends.”

If it were not for my friendships, for the relationships I have here in the city of Paris, I would not be able to make it. And I wanted to give a shout-out to the friends who, while limited in number, are not limited in love and generosity of spirit.

First, we have PJ.

First, if it were not for him, I would not have the opportunity to live here.

Second, because he is l’amour de mon coeur (an expression I learned from a lovely older cemetery explorer whom Karen and I bumped into yesterday), he gets the brunt of the emotional wreck I can be when dealing with the day to day of what it is to be Paris Karin, the alien parisienne. He sees the many colors of my moods, from deepest black to the color of bright sunlight. It cannot be easy to be him because of this, because of me, and so I recognize him as being My Best when it comes to love and unconditional support.

I think she might kill me for posting this photo of her because I don’t think she is going to like it, but I personally really like it a LOT. So I am going to anyway, and if she has any shame about it, she can get me back by putting something awful in the comments about me. LOL.

I like this photo because it shows her getting ready to smoke one of her last cigarettes ever (she quit within days of when I did on Sept. 16th), and it is also the most recent photo I have of her. I like her cute little glasses in this one, and the expression on her face, which is a very “Janet” one to me. Plus it shows her where I love to think of her, on her delightful patio in the south of France in Antibes. She and I have spent some good and some deep bonding times on that patio.

I would not be able to live in my day-to-day without this chica. She is my rock, my support, the cheese to my macaroni — orrrr, since we both eat gluten-free, maybe the rice to my chicken, or the chicken to my rice (lol). She is my Soul Sister and Deep Sea Diving Buddy. My best friend.

While she is not in Paris, she *is* in France and a short, EasyJet flight away if I need her, and need her I have. She has helped me in so very many ways. I am deeply grateful for her.

And now, The Lovely Tess, as I like to call her.

You’ve seen her in posts before — she has been an adventure buddy and partner in diving in deep into the city.

Tess and I met through kind of a fluke, a coincidental meeting — a synchronicity, if you will, online. We had both signed up for a discussion board on Yahoo Groups just about 10 or so months ago. I know that there was only a very short window of time in which she and I coordinated on the group. She saw a message I had posted, and then let me know she was in Paris, too! How amazing was that? She and I think it was meant to be.

We emailed a little at first, and then met in person this past February and since that time, we have become confidantes and support for one another. And road trip buddies, too!  I appreciate her so very much and feel like the Universe has winked at us with our meeting. Thank you Tess, for being in my life.

And now, my newest friend!

Karen

Michelle Mabelle has dubbed us the “Kar-a-deux”. LOL. I kinda like that. It has a ring to it. I hope it does not sound like a bad word in French, lol.

Thank god/dess I am not quite old enough to be her mother (unlike with Melinda who visited with her friend Dani last month, and about whom I posted here — oh, that idea still throws me for a loop!!), but older sister or auntie for sure. What I really felt with her was a kindred spirit kind of thing, though! I did not feel the difference in our ages much at all. We have a lot in common, a lot of things we both like. If I can use a hippie term here (and boy do I have an inner hippie for sure), she and I just had a vibe together that felt so comfortable, like I had known her for years! Being able to spend time with more people in Paris has been much-needed by me — to have it be someone that feels like a life-long friend right from the start is just amazing.

Funny. I kind of had a hesitation there, lol. Have any of you seen any of those new “bromance” movies? Like I Love You, Man with Jason Segel and Paul Rudd (IMDB link here)?

In the movie, Paul Rudd’s character, Peter Klaven, is looking to find more men friends and one best friend in particular because he really does not know anyone who can be his best man in his upcoming wedding. Part of the humor of the movie is that Peter’s trying to find a man for friendship parallels a dating process. You know what it is like when you are dating, and you meet someone new, and there is a really big attraction and you feel like “Oh man, this is IT!” and you get all excited to go out with the person again, but then part of you says in your head, “Now, just cool down, take it slow, don’t throw yourself into the relationship full-on because good solid relationships are developed carefully and over time.” Still, all you can think about is how much you liked the person and you can’t wait to go out with him/her again. And sometimes the heart knows what the heart knows.

That’s kind of how I feel about Karen. And it was just so cool to have this fall into my life now. I am so happy she has come along.

I also hope this makes her laugh. I promise not to take it too fast, Karen (*giggle*). But I am so glad that you will try to be my yoga buddy when you get back in town after Thanksgiving!

Last, but not least…

All of you.

My online peeps, some of whom I have had the added benefit of meeting in person and becoming close, personal friends.

Some of you who visit here I have known for almost four years now, I think it is. Writing here, and on my more personal (can you believe I get MORE personal that I do here, lol) journal blog I keep at a social network, has kept me going. Really. I don’t mean to sound like a Drama Queen, but without this outlet, without the online places to write and the feedback I get from the people who read, I don’t know what I would have done. You have been lifelines, for certain, and I cannot thank you enough.

Yikes!

I have to run. Forgive any spelling errors, etc. in this post — I am meeting PJ to see the new Twilight 2 movie in about 15 minutes!!! I have to get out the door.

I am just a little over 1,600 words today. Yay!! I hope I can get my crap together tomorrow for a much longer post about all the adventures I have had. They have been GOOD!

Over and out.

Our first snow of the season (yesterday) was every kid’s dream!

Several inches deep, it was wet – perfect for snowmen and snowballs. And plenty warm to play outside!

(Oh, and afternoon preschool was canceled so we had lots of time and we’d just read a book called Snow Day the night before!)

Here are the pictures:

I’m linking this to Tuesday’s Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky because it was such a gift to the girls and I just to play outside. And I didn’t even mind the entire load of wet, muddy laundry (from TWO excursions out).