The Battle of Cedar Creek Re-Enactment, October 15-16, 2010

Yeah, we were there. And if you have never observed a Civil War battle Re-enactment, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? (Sorry for the uppercase hype) but for once, I need to be emphatic. We ended up at the Battle of Cedar Creek in Middletown, Virginia, all thanks to Lois at the Wayside Inn, an incredibly cool 18th century coach station and inn with its own share of stories (and a phantom or two, to be sure).

If you don't believe me, ask the folks that are participating in a seance in the slave kitchen tomorrow night? Whether you believe in the spirit world or not, they Wayside has a knack for dragging you back into the past. With creaky floors and finely carved period beds, a potpourri of antiques lovingly collected by the former proprietor, Wayside is simply oozing with history. In fact a Civil War soldier's letter home is framed right above the check-in counter.

But back to the battle. I am not a Civil War buff so I won't go into the details except to say that the men in blue and the men in gray were in abundance along with wives, tents, campfires, musical accompaniment and even a ball, the night before doing battle. Did I mention cavalry? Of course, there were some proud-stepping horses, totally non-plussed by the canon fire.

The weather complied dishing up a sun-drenched fall day for both Saturday and Sunday's re-enactments. Apparently the annual event occurs regardless of rain or sun.
On Saturday morning, we walked to the battlefields with a mass of boyscouts. From the center of Middletown, it's about a 3/4 mile to 1 mile walk to the Union's campsite. The Confederates were shooting from the opposite side of the valley near the Belle Grove plantation. We arrived about 15 minutes before the first skirmish scheduled for 11 am. Fortunately we crossed the valley along a path before the cannons began to smoke and before the cavalry made its first advance.

If you want to photograph this battle, I would suggest arriving early in the day to take photos of the campsites both on the Union and Confederate sides because once the battle begins, observers are requested to stand behind the 'battle lines'. I started shooting (photos, that is) from the hilltop of the Confederate side. You had a good view of the Union soldiers approach - and quite honestly, I think the Confederates had picked a good site to begin the battle. When you cross over from the Union soldiers' camp, you can't see much of anything over that hill and I would have not liked charging into a surprise attack.

Later in the day, at 3 pm, we observed a re-enactment (which according to the commentators actually began at 5 am with heavy fog) the best place to photograph this battle was from the Unionists encampment - just below the gun emplacements. That's where the front lines of the two camps made contact. (In other words, if you're approaching from Route 11, choose a spot in the designated observation area closest to Middletown and the Union soldiers' camp as opposed to the Confederate campsite.

Several of the re-enactors lodged at the Wayside Inn so we were able to discuss more of the details of the time period. As one of the participants mentioned, many of the people who do this year after year (one couple with whom we spoke had been attending for over ten years!) are truly dedicated to 'living the life - and bringing the event to life)

Parisgirl on the 'American Tour'

Even Parisgirls need a vacation, but this is ridiculous. I've just realized that this 'endless vacation' has been going on since June, so for those tried and true readers - an apology is long overdue. Parisgirl and company is currently on the 'Great American Tour' and we have kicked off the excursion with 117 Degrees Farenheit temperatures in Los Angeles (a record!).

We have recently discovered (in Johnstown, Pennsylvania of what consists a 'gob'.
And very soon, we will be trampling across Civil War battlefields. TO BE CONTINUED

Paris Opera: Rossini at the Garnier Gala

There's a reason why going to an Garnier Opera gala in June doesn't make sense - even if it is Rossini's 'La Donna del Lago' which NY Times writer George Loomis describes as "rare as it is irresistible."

This is my fourth gala event: Ballet Russes at Garnier last December, La Somnambule at Bastille, and last week, La Donna del Lago at Garnier.

It's equally a 'rare and irresistible' occasion to attend ANY opera at Garnier because the majority of operas these days are performed at Bastille. However, here are some things that you won't read about in the NY Times Review!

First, a little nit-picking: In the libretto, King James V is referred to as Uberto, not Giacomo!


And according to Wikipedia, this June 2010 is the first performance of La Dame del Lago at Garnier! (I am always suspicious of 'first' anything) so I'd like confirmation on that . . . thanks Rochester Girl!

You must really LOVE opera to consider Garnier in June. In the middle of a heat wave, the third level loge turns into a veritable sauna. I can't imagine how the singers fared in Franca Squarciapino's voluminous and metallic garb.

One might rename this gala event June Madness. In sympathy with the transport strike protesting potential changes in retirement laws, the set crew decided to go on strike. Judging by the comments re Ezio Frigerio's stage sets, Garnier's bare stage and the painted landscape backdrop may have been an improvement.

Every opera has its hero - and in this case, Juan Diego Florez's performance was heroic considering that he agreed to perform in spite of being unwell. The announcement was made at the start of the opera.

It was also ironic that an opera that emphasized love of one's nation should be tainted by a strike. (Of course, hopefully strikes are staged because one loves one's nation and wants to make it a better nation!)

If you're not a seasoned opera buff (which is definitely my case), is it really worth fidgeting the second half of La Donna del Lago for a few truly exceptional moments? I was curious to hear Joyce DiDonato, all the way from Kansas, Colin Lee, from South Africa and Juan Diego Florez from Peru performing as the 'three corners of the world' united in one opera. That, in itself is exciting. Even more exciting is to learn that one gala member flew all the way from Japan to hear Florez. This Florez fan has been following him round the world.

For me though, the real hero wasn't on stage. He happened to be one of our tablemates at the Gala 'souper'. This was the kind of person who would see a homeless person on the street, and, rather than walk by him, he'd do his best to find him a place to stay. Sadly, at the end of the evening he mentioned that he suffered from an illness that would very likely render him crippled in a few years. His attitude was optimistic: see as much of the world as he could in the time that he was allotted.

If opera serves any purpose, it underlines the tragedy in our lives. When Dad spent his last four years in a veteran's hospital after a stroke, we would often bring in opera DVDs. Only opera (in my opinion) can translate human suffering - and give comfort. So, when you're bored or squirming when you listen to opera, it may mean that you should attend opera at the air-conditioned Bastille - or maybe you just haven't suffered much in life.

P.S. (The photo of the 'Opera Gala Souper' was actually taken last December. This year, I didn't take my camera but the Souper was held in the Foyer. You won't find a better stage set anywhere than the building itself and the foyer is the 'piece de resistance')

Scandal in Van Gogh's Wheat fields

It couldn't be a better time to visit Vincent Van Gogh's final resting place in Auvers sur Oise: Blazing sun and blue skies, the kind of day which the driven painter would have clung to like a glowing talisman.

We are so lucky to have a guide who can claim this pastoral setting as his own childhood stomping grounds - but things change - even if people's attitudes don't.

Van Gogh had it right when he said that people are more important than things - even if those things happen to be paintings - or sculpture. The beauty (or horror) of art is the chemical reaction it creates in those of us who stumble upon it. One might even go so far as to say that no work of art really is complete until the viewer and the work have made a connection.

Our friend and 'trusty guide' led us along the dirt path to the fields where Van Gogh painted his famous scene of blackbirds. At the crossroads, we came upon this bizarre sailing craft. The craft, piloted by a headless sailor carries an overexposed woman (who has been modestly draped with the craft's flag - so as not to shock more sensitive souls).

From behind us came outcries of 'Scandalous!!!'. Two women and a man approached with their hunting dog leading the chase.
"I had to come up here to see this for myself," said one outraged women.
The two women approached gingerly. The dog barked at the immobile ship with the headless oarsman.

"Look, someone has taken the flag to cover the woman!" says the second woman.
They retreat from the accident scene. Then the man approaches after the two women have walked onward. He ever so gently lifts the blue sheet, and casts a glance upon the female occupant of the sailing ship. A dead calm, in an ocean of a wheat.

I think Van Gogh would have understood.

Meanwhile, we stop to pay respects at Vincent and his brother Theo's gravesites and we meet a lovely group of visitors from South Korea - and, of course, South Korea is the #1 Country in the world - this is what I shout to them. Yes, that's true!!! Where else would you find so many beautiful smiling faces? Oh, Vincent, if only you were here!

Arabian Days in Paris

If ever there were a cure for window washing blues, the recent Orient-Hermes exhibit at the Institute of the Arab World and Culture would be the perfect antidote.

Tunisian-born Leila Menchari captures her childhood and travel memories in splendiforous window dressings. No wonder that Hermes chose her as their Faubourg-St. Honore window dresser for a number of years.

I have to confess that I've been lazy about getting to the Institute of the Arab World and Culture - but finally,thanks to the prodding of a charming esthetician of Sicilian/Tunisian heritage, our weekend visitors were treated to an exceptional exhibit.

Sadly, the institute itself was closed for renovation. But, good chance was with us because the 9th floor restaurant and stupendous view of Paris was most definitely open for visitors (at no charge - for the view). A ride up the elevators allowed us to marvel at architect Jean Nouvel's unique geometric 'light prisms' which double as decor and light filters opening and closing like camera apertures according to the intensity of sunlight.

I've yet to meet a Nouvel building in Paris that I don't love. And the Institute du Monde Arabe is no exception. Of course, how lucky that it should also enjoy one of the best vantage points to appreciate two other fine examples of architecture - Notre Dame's flying buttresses and the far-off domes of Sacre Coeur.

What I admire about Paris is the ability of the city to embrace creative brilliance in all its facets - it is a window on the the world.



During our visit of the Orient-Hermes show, we met a couturier from Fez who regaled us with her handstitched dreamy dresses - perfect for a gala! Helas! The prices were just out of reach for a summer budget in Paris, but maybe a trip to Fez is in our future?

One can dream - and sometimes dreams come true.

The Zen of Washing Windows in Paris

I've tried time and again to trash the myth of 'romantic Paris'. No one ever seems to believe that day-to-day life in Paris can be just as boring as anywhere else in the world so I'm determined to spend the next few days doing the most boring things possible - just to prove Paris is simply not romantic - and anyhow - the windows could really use a good cleaning.

The problem is - that, as soon as I decided to undertake this project - I realized that washing French windows is not a project to be undertaken with disdain. There are some who might even consider it to be heroic.

The typical 'pierre de taille' high-ceilinged apartment has equally high windows that require a sturdy, four-step ladder to reach the highest panes. Pity the debutante window washer who thinks that a bottle of blue tinted so-called 'window washing fluid' is going to be of any use with double-glazed windows encrusted with at least ten years of Paris pollution and pigeon shit.

(I told you Paris isn't romantic!)

After half an hour of smearing the blue stuff around in endless circles (this has to be the perfect example of samsara), I finally decided to use a more common sense approach> I filled up a bucket of hot water with a small dose of dish-washing liquid (or my French guests would have suggested white vinegar), and then wiped down the huge panes in broad strokes.

You've heard of weekend warriors who pay big time for their zeal, but wannabe window washers take the cake when it comes to payback time. Example: Says husband: "Why are you walking bent over that way?"
Answer: "Don't ask."
The husband can't tease too much. He has only a few days earlier fallen off of one of those handy, dandy cane chairs that are so useful for museum goers. Fortunately he tumbled onto the grass in the Bois de Boulogne, not far from the Shakespeare Garden. Are we getting more romantic yet?

The best way to finish off the windows to totally clear, transparency demands the use of rolled up newspapers. Is this the only way that one can find true clarity in life? By rolling up a coherent, meaningful essay into a messy jumble of carbon, creating friction with glass and liquid cleaning fluid?

Everyone that I've ever spoken to swears that newspaper print is by far and away the best way to get clean mirrors and windows.

The sun is shining and there is not a single cloud in the skies above Paris on this June day. I'm standing on the window ledge/balcony, one floor above the street and foot traffic. My body appears to be strangely out of place in this suspended state which suddenly feels pretty close to those outer body experiences people talk about when you've been meditating for a really long time. Well, okay, I'm not really outside my body, but my body's outside the window, and that's already far out.

A tour bus goes by and I wonder if the tourists are watching the woman washing windows and suddenly, my body has become part of the Parisian landscape and it no longer belongs to me but to Paris.

Is this what life is all about?

What We Do on the First Day in Paris

After having found the a local bar/brasserie that accepts jet-lagged clients with the same courtesy as locals (Le Petit Sommelier), we have one ritual that works best in good weather - that's a walk from Montparnasse to the Luxembourg Gardens. It's an easy walk for jet-lagged wobbly feet - so we can do it - preferably past Blvd Raspail under the nodding approval of Rodin's Balzac. We cross over to Rue Vavin and dodge mothers piloting baby strollers with the smoothness of Formula 1 - drivers.

On a sunny day in late May, it's not the flowers that draw us to this park of poets, but several favorite landmarks.

The fountains: - Although the Medici fountain (1630) is the oldest and the biggest crowd-pleaser, I have to admit that I'm hooked on the Fontaine de l'Observatoire or the 'Carpeaux' fountain. First off, we want to know whether the fountain is actually on - and today, we're fortunate. The Fremiat-sculpted stallions are getting properly splashed.

Sculptor Carpeaux takes credit for the winsome nudes representing the 'Four Parts of the World'. At the time the work was considered scandalous - not of course because of the nudity, but clearly looking at the expressions of these lovely 'women of four worlds', they were just having too much fun holding up the globe.

Technically speaking, the Carpeaux fountain isn't in the Luxembourg Garden. It's in the annex gardens known as the Marco Polo Gardens which lead to Rue de L'Observatoire and Boulevard Montparnasse.

Another monument which always deserves a pause is located near the gardens at the Montparnasse and Observatoire intersection. This is the statue of Marshall Michel Ney (sculpted by Rude). It's incredible to think that a statue stands in Paris for a marshall who was shot for treason. Even if one doesn't know half the story, Rude's portrayal of a marshall whose last command to his executors: "Be sure and shoot straight in the heart!" - shows that this was a guy with guts.

For visitors from the Carolinas - there are some rumors - or myths that Ney wasn't actually shot - that his execution was staged and he ended up in North or South Carolina.

Walking around the gardens can be a veritable history lesson if one takes the time to look carefully at each statue. Likewise plenty of drama had to unfold within the Luxembourg palace constructed for Marie de Medici, Henry IV's queen and mother to Louis XIII. At one point the queen's favorite painter Rubens was thought to be a spy.

Of course, each day in these gardens, new plots are certainly hatched for great fiction and, maybe even, poetry, or simply a daydream.

First Day Back in Paris

Recently a stateside friend asked, what's the first thing you do when you get back to Paris?
Recover from jet-lag - or try.

But I know what he was really asking me is - 'what's the first thing you do to celebrate your return to Paris? '
Because, and I'm sure this is true for many return visitors to France, there must be rituals.

And there are rituals, but I tend to downplay them. Rituals can be mistaken for habits and habits get boring - fast.

Breaking Fast.

If you're flying in from the US to Paris, you'll normally arrive in the morning. That sorry excuse for a roll and a plastic container of yogurt you received in flight don't measure up to breakfast, and, after waiting for the Air France Le Car shuttle bus from CDG to Montparnasse during morning rush hour traffic, you'll be lucky to get into Paris before eleven am.

We used to have breakfast at a cafe/brasserie called 'L'Ocean' across from the train station. Now that 'L'Ocean' has closed its doors, we've shifted over to another local bar/tabac which has recently metamorphosed from a tabac into a non-stop brasserie called 'Le Petit Sommelier'. The lunches might be two or three euros cheaper at restaurant chains (like Indiana) or the pizza joints - but where else would you get freshly mashed potatoes and a huge plate of roast chicken for thirteen Euros?

With jet lag, I'm never really quite sure whether I'm hungry, thirsty or just exhausted. So, it's important to find just the right place where we can sit and stare at the passing scene with glazed eyes and not seem out of place. We've always had this hopelessly idealistic idea that we'd find the perfect little brasserie, preferably in the same building as our apartment where we might return after an extended absence - and the waiter - or bartender might remember us. (This might have worked in the fifties or sixties, but not in the new millenium!) After ten years, we haven't 'exactly' found that certain neighborhood bar/brasserie to call 'home'.

So, if there's a return ritual, it would be 'looking for a brasserie to call home'. That's not to say we don't know a few of the waiters in the neighborhood as well as owners of the one of the local Chinese restaurants on Gaite. The Liberte at Edgar Quinet is a little to far flung to be called our 'local bar' and the Chinese restaurant doesn't serve breakfast, so I'm optimistic about Le Petit Sommelier although right now, my jet-lagged brain is playing tricks with the name - is it really "Le Petit Sommelier, or is it "Le Petit Sommeil"?

Le Petit Sommelier
Avenue du Maine
Metro: Gaite
Across from Gare Montparnasse
Plat du jour: 13.50 Euros
Glass of House Wine 4.50 Euros

Westward Bound

It's on the road again and this time, without a laptop. So, until we meet again!

Beware of the Eyes of April

For those of you who may not know it, May is the ideal month to look after your eyes. Which is why I'm glad to hear that R-Girl is getting eye issues finalized in mid-May. My eye guy here in Paris is very cool. He hasn't pushed laser surgery by any stretch, (except that he says it's 'miraculous') but Paris being a style-conscious capital, it has been a happy option for many. Then, on the other hand, there are so many great style glasses to choose from, wearing glasses isn't as much of a stigma as it used to be.
http://www.lesplusbelleslunettesdumonde.com/?gclid=CPTJ28n29KACFYUx3god0CUztw

If you do wear glasses, France is a great place to shop for a new pair of frames. However, buying prescription lenses are outrageously expensive. Strangely enough, the cost of a pair of lense varies from departement to departement. For example, I've been told that glass lenses cost more money in Eure Departement than in Calvados.

Here is something that I just learned about Xalatan, the eye drops I'm taking currently: Aside from lowering eye pressure, they also make your eyelashes grow.

French Makeover: A Spring Haircut

Before:



You said you wanted to see the new haircut, but first I need to say a word about haircuts in France. Women don't rely on long hair in this country to be attractive. If anything, a good haircut, makes a much better impression than the 'Tressy Doll' effect. Do you remember the 'Tressy Dolls'? You'd tug at their ponytails and unending volumes of hair would spit out of the top of Tressy's head. Pretty ghastly, right?

Every now and then, there's nothing quite as exhilarating as saying "Chop it all off!" Probably much the way the 'Queen of Hearts' in Alice in Wonderland commanded 'Off With their Heads!"

So in the spring holiday spirit, I shed the old 'do' and for the first time (in a long time) refrained from saying 'Leave enough to pull my hair back into a ponytail.'
Ponytails are great for cheerleaders.

Bastille Opera Gala Conversations: Mahler

I promised my table neighbor at the Gala 'souper' that I would listen to Mahler. Although he suggested I might begin by listening to his symphonies, the CD, I happened upon in our stack of CDs was Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau singing Mahler's song cyles Gesellen, Kindertotenleider, Ruckertleider.

It comes as no surprise that Bellini's 'Somnambule' brought to mind Mahler - particularly because the word 'elegiac' had been mentioned. But, once I've plunged into Mahler's world, Bellini evaporates like a soap bubble.

How appropriate that today happens to be the first real day of spring, starting with golden sunshine and a hint of humid remains: winter decay lifting in the early morning mist. And so, begins the Kindertotenlieder:

(after poems by Friedrich Ruckert)
"And now the sun will rise as bright
as if no ill luck had befallen in the night.
The ill luck befell me alone
And the sun shines all around
You must not enclose the night within you:
you must drown it in eternal light
A little lamp went out in my tent.
Hail to the gladdening light of the world!
Now I understand why such dark flames
were strewn on me when you looked at me
O eyes! O eyes!
As if in one look
you would compress your whole force
I did not know then (for mists surrounded me,
woven by fate to dazzle me).
that the beam was already turning towards home,
there, whence all beams spring
You wanted to tell me with your rays:
We long to stay near you
but fate will not let us.
Look at us now, for soon we shall be far away.
These that are eyes today,
in nights to come will be stars."

In his essay, Michael Kennedy compares Mahler's song cycle to the Winterreisen, except, in this case, the disconsolate wanderer begins his journey in the spring. In real life, Mahler composed the song cyle in 1883-1885. Certainly, rejected love and the recent loss of two brothers (followed soon afterward by the death of his 4-year-old daughter) are some of the tragedies that influenced the haunting melodies of Mahler's song cycle.

Kennedy notes that the song cycles are often sung by mezzo sopranos but, he adds:
"there can be little doubt that the texts imply a male voice. Is is a measure of the artistry of Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau that, as one listens, one cannot imagine any voice but a baritone's in that music."

Thanks, cher Ami Voisin du Gala, for mentioning Mahler!

La Somnambule at Bastille, Jan 2010

If you are, like me, a newcomer to opera, you'll want to be sure to do some homework before going to the opera. It's easy to do that on the internet by reading the synopsis of the
La Somnambule which was composed by Vincenzo Bellini in 1831. It is one of three operas for which Bellini is famous: Norma (considered to be his best) and the Puritan.

Originally Bellini had been working on an opera based on Victor Hugo's 'Hernani' but because of scandals connected with 'Hernani', he ended up opting for an opera sure to be a crowd-pleaser without ruffling any feathers. The story is based on a girl who has a sleepwaking disorder in a country village.

Of course, the reason for the full house at Opera Bastille is Nathalie Dessay. The opera allows her to 'strut her stuff' in a few famous arias that demand a singer's very best:

• Come per me sereno"
  
• "Ah! non credea mirarti"
  

You can compare Dessay's interpretation of Ah! non credea mirarti with that of author opera singer greats such as Maria Callas, or Montserrat Caballe.


Which leaves the question - why bother going to the opera when you can listen to the music in your own home -or watch a video? Is it just to say that you've listened to one of the 'great' opera singers in person, or is there part of the opera going experience that sets it apart for reproduced technology?

In this case, I would have to say that you have to experience opera in both ways - for opera is not only about performers but also about spectators. When an audience really loves a singer - there is that communal sigh. This is what sets apart the opera-going experience from reproductions. And this is probably why opera singers would never give up having a stage and live audience.

That being said, I do have some personal criticisms regarding the performance we attended - and that is merely a question of set and costume design. Before buying tickets for a performance - you may want to check out the setting and costume design on the Opera de Paris website. Although last Fall's Barbier de Seville had a phenomenal set, it is common now to dress performers in clothing from totally different time periods. For example, last Fall's performance of La Boheme was performed in 1940 era costumes.

In this case, La Somnambule 's director and set designer Marco Arturo Marelli chose a voluminous art-Deco style 'hotel resort' design one might imagine in a Swiss 'village' in the late 20s or early 1930s whereas the costumes (especially Lisa, the innkeeper's 'power suit' looked more like vintage 1980s). Of course, set design and costumes are a very subjective issue. I would have preferred to have seen a design which remains faithful to the era. Isn't Amina supposed to sing her famous aria as she balances her way across the trestle bridge of a water mill? In this case, she is only viewed from the inside of the auberge/sanitarium. (Le Monde's review mentions the irony of Rodolpho returning to this quaint village happy to see the familiar scenes of the auberge and the old mill (yet he is confronted with art deco bar stools!).

Natalie Dessay is certainly capable of carrying an opera - but she can't carry the stage set on her back as well. Musically speaking she was in excellent company for La Somnambule with Javier Camarena as Elvino, Marie Adeline Henry as Lisa, Michele Perusi as Comte Rodolfo. It was a memorable evening, especially when Dessay appeared for her last solo in a drop-dead red dress that almost made up for the set and costume design blunders (of course all these comments are purely subjective!).

P.S. According to one review, Dessay would have preferred performing La Somanmbule at the Garnier Opera House (thus the closing aria with the backdrop of the traditional Opera House red curtain?). NY Times reviewer Loomis takes a swipe at the her last aria as not being quite up to the 'hauteur' of a diva (but the audience didn't appear to agree - she had a resounding aplause). In other reviews, there were some cryptic comments about the last aria in the red dress. Maybe some of you more informed opera goers can fill me in?

Best Way to Enjoy Paris's Opera House: Go Gala!

Way back when, I wrote in Parislogue that there's no place to dress up in Paris, not even the hallowed Paris Opera house where jeans sidle up alongside sequins. Of course, there will always be those that snivel at this 'bourgeois' rite: how many times have couples repeated the cliches?
Man: Do I have to wear a tie? Woman: I don't have a pair of shoes to match this outfit.

But for those who still maintain their adamant anti-embellishment attitude, might I remind you that even Nature imposes its 'dressing up' dictum for males of certain bird species. When you think that certain bird species spend much of their waking hours decorating nests to attract just the right female, putting on a bowtie for one night doesn't seem like such an imposition after all.

And when the one night happens to be a night at Paris's Opera Houses, either the 19th century bijou, Garnier, or Mitterand's 20th century monolith at Bastille, you might as well just go with the flow, guys. (I think there might even be a few among you who actually like wearing a tux and bowtie. And no matter how handsome you are, you always look even better in black and white!).

This is all a long response my claim that there was 'no place to dress up and 'glow' in Paris', the answer is the Opera Gala which takes place at least four times throughout the year thanks to the organisation Friends of the National Opera of Paris (AROP).

You can book tickets to a Gala performance over the internet with the option of participating in the 'Souper' or cold supper after the opera. If you do decide to dine after the opera, the meal is served right in the halls of the opera house. We had the good fortune to be placed at a table where most of the people were English-speakers (and one of the table guests had actually lived in Rochester for several years). Needless to say you don't go to the 'souper' for the quality of the food (but the wine is quite acceptable!). What you hope for (and of course, there's no guarantee, is to have delightful conversation). In this case, I was not at all disappointed - a gentleman from Columbia to my left and a Bordelais to the right - both true opera fans. The Bordelais suggested I should become more familiar with Mahler (which I will).

If you choose not to opt for the 'souper' a complimentary champagne is served during the intermission with scrumptious hors d'oeuvres (even better than the meal, in my opinion).
Although, formal-wear is not 'de rigueur', men should at least wear a jacket and tie, although most men going to the 'souper' do wear a tux, and women wear either long gowns or cocktail dresses.

If you would like to know more about the opera that we heard, La Somnambule with Natalie Dessay, that will be in another post!

First Class on Thalys: Is it Worth It?

We love traveling by train in Europe, especially in France, but is it really worth going first class? For the past twenty years, we may have taken a first class train in Europe three or four times at most. This past weekend, we tried the Thalys first class train only because dinner was included in the price. The dinner was served promptly. It was actually a cold supper featuring cold fish and an assortment of fresh vegetables - also cold and fresh fruit for dessert. An excellent meal for the health conscious soul. However, pity the person who turns down the coffee or tea after dinner because, surprisingly the bar car was dismantled BEFORE we reached our destination at 9 pm.

Any of you who may be former Amtrak clients (particularly the lines running from the Big Apple) would find it hard to believe that a bar car might close up service after the dinner hour. In fact, the Amtrak bar car (in my humble opinion) was the saving grace for a train service that left much to be desired.

But all I can say to railway enthusiasts who plan on using Thalys, bring your own bottle of water - because once the bar service closes its window, there's not even a drop of water to be found.

Another 'advantage' of traveling first-class is being able to have a taxi called in advance by the train manager (however that only applies to the final city destination!) - a minor detail that might catch you by surprise.

The seats are slightly larger in first-class and they're slightly more adjustable, but not noticeably more comfortable. Other than that, second class and first class arrive in the station at approximately the same time.

If you're traveling second class on the Thalys line, bring your bottle of water - and also your breakfast. We waited in line for half an hour for two croissants. That has to be some sort of world record. While waiting in line I remembered way back when on the Spanish trains (in the seventies) everyone shared food and cigarettes in second class. There was no 'bar car'.

Still, there's no better way to travel than by train. Train fan forever!

Champs Elysees Christmas '09 New Years 2010

Happy New Year 2010!

Weather Report and Abbe Michel in Thiberville

It's hard to believe but Normandy is still having a very White christmas. The Christmas creche stays up in Thiberville until February 2nd so we can still pretend it's Christmas. The temperature tonight is negative 6 degrees celius and dropping. We drove in from Paris this afternoon - fortunately under sunny skies - but even Paris is freezing.

That didn't stop some SERIOUS shoppers from being out in the Boulevard St. Germain district (yours truly included) except that I was there to buy a book at the Village Voice bookstore - the first part of the Stieg Larsson trilogy "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo".

But we had to get back to Normandy soon because I was already having dreams about the cows - that is one cow - or one bull that got out of the pen and was creating havoc. Thank goodness that our dear friend Freud is long gone. He would have a heyday with my dreams.

In the meantime, what transpires in Thiberville is much more interesting. Our closest major burg, Thiberville has been in the news this past week,especially since last Sunday (Ephiphany Sunday). The bishop came to town to celebrate Mass and the Mass was boycotted.

Normally 'manifestations' in France are associated with left-wing labor unions, but this wasn't the case in Thiberville. The parishioners of Thiberville are dismayed that their parish priest, Father Michel, is being transferred after 23 years of service in the community. When the Bishop of this department (Eure) arrived to say Mass, after 10 minutes, the church-goers stood up and left. Wow!

I'm what's called a 'lapsed Catholic'. And having grown up in a town where the town parish had its own share of 'controversy' none of this comes as great surprise. Catholic clergy of course are human beings with all their foibles. But, the response of the community is not just about the anger and outrage of uprooting a priest who is obviously an essential part of that community - but anger and outrage over a pervasive evisceration of ALL community rapport.

The local bank has the same policy as the church - keep transferring people so that no one can ever get 'attached'. Even though we are newcomers to the part of Normandy (only 20 years now), we have memories - attending a Mass conducted in Latin with friends Michel, Jeanne, Huguette and Jean Pierre, attending the marriage of our mayor's daughter Valerie and her husband Eric, and most recently watching the Palm Sunday procession in the streets of Thiberville. These are the kind of traditions that hold a community together. Clearly, the world no longer wants us to be connected to our neighbors. The banks don't want you to have a 'relationship' with your local banker. And apparently the church also views that keeping priests in one parish for too long is 'unhealthy'.

I guess the reason Thiberville's parish priest's story interests me is the same reason our local elected officials are concerned - what is the future of small town communities - if the fabric that holds these towns together is undone - no more local businesses, no more churches, no more family farms, no more regional products.

Of course, this is just one part of the story. There's always another side, but that will be for another post!

More Snow in Normandy!

Soon we will be joining the great migration of cars returning to Paris. You'd think we'd learn the lesson after being stuck in three hour traffic jams between Paris and Versailles. In the meantime, being stuck in a traffic jam is a great time to take photos.

New Year's Eve Dinner in Normandy

This was Lydie's New Year's Eve quail dish! It's not every day you get to try quail - and this may be the first time we've had a New Year's Eve meal prepared at home. When it comes to New Years and Christmas, this is when French chefs really outdo themselves.

Here's what we ate:
An assortment of 'verrines' including gazpacho and guacamole (Francoise is the queen of verrines!)
Foie gras de canard with Coteaux de Layon
Quail with white grapes marinated in cognac
Beaune Burgundy
Celery puree
Sauteed potatoes
Macaroons and sorbet
Mom's refrigerator cookies

And Champagne - but, of course!

Thank you to our charming hosts, Francoise and Jean-Pierre for welcoming us into their home!!

New Years Day in Normandy

Actually, the day after. It's snowing and I'm listening to the soundtrack to Sideways for the umpteenth million time. Is there any better way to start the new year? The score framed plenty of summer barbecues in Normandy this past year and never ceases to delight me.

Sideways actually appears on occasion in Paris, but we missed the last screening at a Latin quarter cinema. If you haven't seen the film yet, don't miss it. I remember seeing it for the first time at the Little theater in Rochester. Even though it was reviewed as a comedy, the opening scenes didn't show any promise of comedy - and how could you EVER sympathize with a guy who steals money from his Mum? It just goes to show that our capacity for human compassion is much more elastic than one might imagine.