Joke of the day

I just read this wonderful joke on Croco's Blog and thought I'd share it with you. I hope my translation does this joke justice, since the German sentence structure lets one add on differently than the English one.

A philosopher is someone, who searches a dark room for a cat.

A metaphysician is someone who, blindfolded, searches a dark room for a cat, that isn't there.

A theologian is someone who, blindfolded, searches a dark room for a cat, that isn't there, and then exclaims "I've got her!"

And here the original German version:

Ein Philosoph ist einer, der mit verbundenen Augen in einem dunklen Raum eine Katze sucht.

Ein Metaphysiker ist einer, der mit verbundenen Augen in einem abgedunkelten Raum eine Katze sucht, die nicht da ist.

Ein Theologe ist einer, der mit verbundenen Augen in einem abgedunkelten Raum eine schwarze Katze sucht, die nicht da ist, und der dann ruft "Ich hab sie!"

Rainy, rainy day

Which is rather helpful, as I don't feel I am missing out on the Brocante in the neighbourhood while I sit at my desk. The raindrops make a nice sound on the roof. Knowing that it will not start raining inside despite the water stains on the ceiling is quite reassuring too. But one of the best things I discovered today, is that I can listen to Putumayo Radio! It's the Word Music Record Label's radio hour. Have a listen here.

The look of fairytale castle

combined with modern entrepreneurship keep the Château de Montmelas going. To this day it is inhabited by descendants of the Marquis de Montmelas Jehan Arod. The castle was built in the 10th century as a garrison, a function that it must have filled formidably as it sits strategically on top of the hill overlooking eight departements. On clear days, we were told, it is even possible to see the Mont Blanc, which is about 230 km away.


The castle is situated in the Rhônes-Alpes region of France. The name means somtehing along the lines of "apple orchard hill".

In the 19th century when all things medieval were en vogue the castle was renovated by the architect Louis Dupasquier. However the owners ran out of money at some point and so, in the words of our guide, "escaped the worst".



Part of the stables are rental apartments and the castle has its own vineyard. In 2009 the tower was converted into a Gîte that sleeps eight people.


Have a look at the pictures on the castle website. I love the winter shots!

Distraction

For some reason, I cannot change the size of this embedded video. Sorry about that. If the size throws your browser off, try watching the video directly on YouTube. I love the Muppets!

Another library day

Today was another day devoted to thorough research. I spent an entire day in the giant belly of the Bibliothèque National de France, which has an amazing collection of books for my purposes. If it wasn't for the architecture, I could really like it there. The chairs and lighting are excellent. The reading rooms are quite nice too. But the way the hallways are made makes one feel like a tiny beetle en face of the compiled wisdom of books and their erudite authors.

I still cannot believe the entrance is in the middle and one has to walk around one of the towers to get into the building. No shortest way as humans would want to do it. The buildings by architect Domique Perrault are compared to minimalistic sculptures. Maybe they would indeed make better sculptures than buildings for humans. That of course is just my very own uninformed opinion.

Voilà an extraordinarily pretty view of the library, a candidate for best picture 2007 on Wikipedia. For more pictures by this photographer have a look here.
Of course you do not get to see the built-in complications for patrons of said library.

We're back "home"

after our short visit in the area of Mâcon, where we bathed in friendship and enjoyed lots of good food. So much good food in fact, that I think we have to go on a diet now.

We stayed in the countryside and enjoyed the sights of many little castles, Romanesque churches and vineyards.

Here are just some of the country impressions from the right side of the Saône:



The "white cows" above are called Charolaises in French. This breed originates from Charolles in Burgundy and is great not only for Bœuf bourguignon.




Rapeseed growing in the fields at the end of November! What a sight for us, the Avalon peninsula dwellers!




The church St. Martin in Bey, Ain dates from the 12th century, also has a gothic chapel, painted walls from the 12th to the 15th century.

Now it's back to work. The last chapter needs my undivided attention.

The next chapter

of my thesis is finished and sent of for its review. Now I have one last chapter left. But as we are visiting friends near Mâcon for a couple of days I am afraid there will be not a lot of progress made until next week.

Nevertheless it is a good feeling to click the "attach file" and "send" buttons.

A food fair will be held in Mâcon during our stay. Let's see what our hosts have to say about whether its worthwhile or not. Also the New Beaujolais is being fêted this weekend, so apart from all the hype surrounding this wine, I guess we will still be able to taste some lovely wines. And then we are in for a culinary treat. Alas, neither the name of the chef nor the place have been revealed to us yet.

Now I am off to find some needles and thread. Of course buttons only get lose and fall off when you are away from home without sewing supplies. Although I could swear I packed some emergency needle and thread.

Speaking of needles and threads reminds me of the parable of the camel fitting through the eye of a needle, which in turn conjures the association with a lock in my mind. Very strange. But anyway, here is a lock to go with that.

Today was churches' day

at least for me. In the morning I went to mass at the parish Ste. Elisabeth de Hongrie which is right around the corner from us. This Sunday was her feastday so there was a big celebration, members of the Order of Malta (which have there Parisian seat here) were present in full regalia, the bishop of Le Puy-en-Velay, himself a descendant of the saint, presided over the mass and the former French president Giscard d'Estaing came too. I have no idea what the connection is there, but it was altogether quite an impressive sight. To mark the day, the parish is introducing breakfasts every morning for the homeless.

At 4 p.m. we went back for a free baroque concert by a part of the group Parnasse Francais, which was wonderful and then right on to an organ concert at St. Eustache at 5.30 p.m.

St. Eustache is the biggest Renaissance church in France. During the French Revolution it became the Temple of Agriculture. The church seems Gothic in style at first glance but is really a Renaissance building and a beautiful one, too. I liked the atmosphere there more than in any of the other churches I have visited so far. It is airy, not somber at all. One former double door opening has been converted to a giant window, which allows the public to - in a way take - part in the life of the parish, but by the same token does not allow the parish to close its eyes before the misery of its surroundings.

The parish is very much engaged in social work with the homeless, e.g. they distribute 230 warm meals per evening, and manage a cuple of welcome centres for people who live on the street. And there are many, many people living on the streets, a very sad sight.

When aesthetics and commitment go hand in hand -regardless of religion- that is when true beauty emerges.

A little Saturday morning walk

was supposed to lead us to a photoshoot morning at the flower market at Place Lepine.

I guess it's the season, but I was not impressed. There was almost more Christmas kitsch than there were flowers.



Luckily there was a lot to see on the way to the market: from the Notre Dame bridge there was a lovely view of a corner of the Hotel de Ville across the Seine.


And this lonely tower, named la Tour Saint Jacques, the only remnant of the 14th century church of Saint Jacques-la-Boucherie, the church of the butchers of the nearby market Les Halles.


The tower has been named a UNESCO world heritage site because of its role in the Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage. It is said but has not been confirmed that the parish itself was originally founded by Charlemagne.


The alchemist Nicolas Flamel (1330-1418) was buried in the church.


Those of you who have read their "Harry Potter" well, will remember that Flamel was said to have been in pursuit of the "philospher's stone".

The house of Nicolas Flamel and his wife Pernelle still stands today. It is one of the oldest houses in Paris. The house is located at 51 Rue Montmorency. One can still admire the stonework of this 14th century house.

A heavenly good sandwich

to me is a Vietnamese Bánh Mì like the ones produced in this little hole in the wall store five minutes from our apartement:


The picture above is taken from an article I found after having eaten one of the best Bánh-Mì, ever, at 7 rue Volta in the 3rd arrondissement, near the Arts et Métiers Metro station.

The Vietnamese word "bánh" is a corruption of the French word "pain" - bread. The mayonnaise is home made, the meat is marinated in a tasty sauce for hours and you get lots of fresh vegetables with it too. There is a choice of chicken, pork paté, barbecued pork, and of course beef. If you like it spicy don't skip the sesame-chili seasoning. No MSG. All bánh mì are freshly prepared, cost as of today is 4,50 Euros. Very friendly owner, too. Since she works all by herself, be prepared for a little wait at lunch time.

"Elles"

a themed exhibit from the permanent collection of the Centre Pompidou featuring female artists only.

Very interesting pieces. The one below was the most unusual, I believe, by Czech born Canadian artist Jana Sterbak.

Vanitas: robe de chair pour albinos anorexique

This dress is entirely made out of raw salted beef.

A quote from complexitys:

“…Vanitas could also be about the way time changes our perception of works. On the day of the opening when the dress is exhibited the flesh is raw. Then the meat dries and starts to look like leather. Then every thing is better, it becomes acceptable. This is also true for artist. Some curators prefer to work with dead artists because they’ re less troublesome.”

The church of St. Merri

is located near the Centre Pompidou. It is quite an old church, the beginnings date back to the 6th century and it still is a very lively parish. It lies on Rue St. Martin which itself is a remnant of the old Roman route that transcoursed Paris from north to south. During the French revolution the church became a Salpeter production place.

What I like about St. Merri apart from the wonderfully grotesque gargoyles on the facade is the music that greets the visitor upon entering the church and the information about Dom Helder Camara, an Brazilian advocat for the poor, archbishop and Novel Peace Prize nominee in 1973.






The present building mostly dates back to the 1550, although there are many newer additions like the altar from the beginning of the 1700.




In this view the old window of St. Merri gives a different perspective on the new building of the Centre Pompidou.



To finish the afternoon in style, we had a hot chocolate in nice little salon de thé, on a road with an almost unpronouncable name: Rue Quincampoix. There is an interesting etymolgy to it, which can be read here (in French)

Discovering hidden passages

is a great pleasure. I try walking everywhere instead of taking public transport, which so far has worked very well. The walk from the Canadian Cultural Centre through the Tuileries back home to the Marais took about an hour and since I regularly get lost, I discover interesting passages, like the Passage du Grand Cerf or today the Galeries Vivienne, built around 1820. Many of these covered passages, forerunners of today's soulless malls, were left in a state of bad disrepair and even shut down until their revival in the late 20th century.

Frenchification

of names does not stop at writers' names, whereas in German you would never make a Henry Miller into a Heinrich Miller, or Jean-Paul Sartre into a Johannes-Paul Sartre. But apparently it is la coutume to do this here, as can be seen on this street sign. However, the French rendition of Heinrich Heine's name may be attributed to the fact, that Heine emigrated to France because of political reasons and stayed here for the last 25 years of his life and is buried in the Montmartre cemetery. He became a Frenchman by choice although he continued to love his native tongue. Maybe it can be said that he exiled himself to France physically, but remained in the placeless space of his native language.

Anyway, as Germany is celebrating the 20th anniversary of the Fall of the Berlin Wall, Heine and his complicated relationship with his home country seems to be a fitting topic for today's entry.



Heine wrote, among many other things, a collection of poems, published under the title "Deutschland. Ein Wintermärchen". Heine makes satirical, bitingly ironic, bitterly critical and melancholic comments about Germany, which he visited in the winter of 1843 on a rare occasion after having exiled himself to Paris.

The very beginning of the poem in 27 "songs" is quoted in translation below. A bi-lingual version can be found at Google Books here.

"In the mournful month of November t'was,
The winter days had returned,
The wind from the trees the foliage tore,
when I tow'rds Germany journied.

And when at length to the frontier I came,
I felt a mightier throbbing
Within my breast, tears fill'd my eyes,
And I wellnight broke into sobbing.

And when I the German language heard,
Strange feelings each other succeeding,
I felt precisely as though my heart
Right pleasantly were bleeding."

At school, maybe in 7th grade, we had to learn Heine's ballad "Belsazar" by heart, a powerful poem about the blasphemic arrogance of the King of Babylon and his downfall. It made a huge impression on me.

La Fontaine des Automates

As a lover of Jean Tinguely's whimsical mechanical sculptures one has to see the fountain in motion in front if the Centre Georges Pompidou, where the colourful sculptures by Niki de St. Phalle (yes, that is her real name) are transformed into kinetic objects with a charme of their own.

The Centre Georges Pompidou is probably best viewed from the inside. I am not sure I much care for this example of High-tech Architecture.

How to wrap

two pieces of delicious Tarte Tatin and Croustade au poire into a simple sheet of paper and make it look like a piece of art ...



On plus, it is a very efficient wrapping: very little material is used and the confections make it home unmushed too.

PS: I am missing the first snow storm of the season in NL. Happy shoveling to all. No one believes me, when I say, I love snow, but I really do. Not only from away.

A Promenade through the St. Germain-des-Prés area

It's hard to believe this area was once outside of Paris.

Below is an image of the square in front of the church of St.Sulpice where I was delighted and surprised to learn that the great French composer Charles-Marie Widor was organist here for 67 years.

St. Sulpice houses the Gnomon a device to measure the exact time of the spring equinox in order to determine the date for Easter. (Poor Dan Brown got it all wrong.)


This organ was built by the innovative Aristide Cavaillé-Coll:


A leasurely stroll from here is the church of St. Germain-des-Prés. Not much is left from the magnificent abbey. Where the little park "Laurent Prache" is today, there used to be the abbey's
cloister.

Today we find a sculpture by Picasso here. The place still maintains an air of peace and tranquility.

A look into St. Germain-des-Prés reveals a mix of styles from Romanesque to gothic. It is supposed to date back to the 6th century and competes with two other churches for being the oldest church in Paris. Dear René's ashes are buried here. You know, the Cogito Ergo Sum guy.


Further on, near the Delacroix Museum, this lovely little square gives a view on the former monastry abbots' humble abode.


This area is filled with bookstores and printers' places. (The one below was strangely filled with Niki de St.Phalle blow ups, like the snake or her famous Nanas.) Of course all the important writers gathered in the cafés like the Flore, The deux Magots (and no, this has nothing to do with creepy crawlies), the Brasserie Lipp and drank themselves to death here. Not on coffee though, mind you.

The Ecole Nationale Superieure des Beaux Arts is around the corner too. There is an interesting exhibition going on in the midst of the architectural collection. By the way, Auguste Rodin was not admitted to the art school. He tried three times.

Again a few steps away there is art on the street. This time by Arman (1928-2005), a French born sculptor. Here he melds the Venus of Milo with an African mask and a double bass, while at the same time splicing them up. He seems to be referring to Cubism here.

Looking for love

in the Jardin de Luxembourg:

J'adore

This is a telling and very comical comment on the state of Canadian cultural promotion under the Harper government with a French language twist:



EDIT: I changed the video to the longer version. Thank you, Heidi!

Dogs say Ouaf

in French, Wauwau in German, Wangwang in Japanese, Woof in English. How do they say in Finnish, Dutch, Spanish, Italian ... ?

Die Revolution

fraß die Heiligen, zumindest jedoch entfernte sie die Titel. Man kann sich vorstellen mit wie viel revolutionärem Eifer das "St."aus der Straßenbezeichnung entfernt wurde. Wie gut, dass man nicht sehen konnte, wie die Straße auf der mentalen Karte wohl weiter hieß.