31e Comédie du Livre Montpellier

This posting may be out of chronological order, but what happened recently seems so much more vital and, well, fresh than what happened last week!

This weekend is the 31^st annual Montpellier Book Fair, celebrating authors from this region of France. A long line of tents were set up in the city park, and authors were available to sell and sign books, and talk to fans; ah, readers. We wandered among the enthusiastic crowd. First thing we noted was that there were few of the twenty-something students we see everywhere in the city, but more “gray-hairs,” like us. Families. Lots of kids, visiting the many children’s authors.

We watched as the author of a series of travel books, illustrated with watercolors, decorated the flyleaf of a book bought by a fan. A few deft strokes of her brush revealed the image of a dancing lady in a flowing fuchsia dress. Impressive! Next to her was a man who illustrated his travel journals to places like Morocco and Iran with ink sketches which he filled in with pale, subtle color.

Illustrating the flyleaf of one of his travel journals

A simple but elegant drawing; I wanted to buy one, too!

This, though, was about the only part we understood. The sad thing was, being in this enormous and exciting book exhibition was like visiting a huge art gallery where all the paintings were turned to the wall, or covered with thin vails. I, with my command of French, wandered through looking at titles I struggled to understand by authors I’d never heard of on subjects I did not comprehend.

But something that was clear to us was that this huge turnout for this three-day event with people attending the on-going lectures and discussions (this year's theme was Italian Literature) showed a fine, and intense, interest in art and culture. It was impressive!

Tables stacked with books; aisles stacked with people!

Still, we felt like outsiders, and it was with a hint of disappointment we wandered along and came to another small tent, this one featuring B.D., Bande Dessinée, known in our day as comic books but today referred to as graphic novels (incredibly popular in France). And there, front and center, was a classic copy of Mr. Natural, by R.Crumb. I reverently picked it up. Yes, in French, published in Paris in 1977.

The chess games go on, even during the book festival

Mr. Natural? R.Crumb? If these names are not familiar, then clearly you did not survive the ‘60s!

(As a refresh, or an introduction, check this animated version of Mr. Natural: )

              


            https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccRUryUyfrU

Crumb had tremendous success (at least among the counter culture) with his Zap Comix in the ‘60s and early ‘70s, and brought about a whole new genre of “alternative comix.” But I heard that Robert Crumb got disgusted with life in the United States (or perhaps just life), and moved to France. And I hadn't thought of him in decades.

But the operator of this particular tent, who owns a B.D. store a few blocks away, told us that M. Crumb now lives in Sauve, where he spends his days at the bar.

What!? Sauve? We were just there! And that's Mr. Crumb's home? My mind was blown.

Sauve is an hour’s drive north of here. We stumbled upon the town while driving back from our trip to the Gypsy Festival in the Camargue. It's incredibly intriguing; a medieval city tucked away on a winding mountain road, very quiet; we were about the only ones in the streets. Yet judging from the posters on the closed shop windows there were no end of artistic and musical events.

                                      Why we liked Suave

 

Crossing the bridge into town (Sauve)

It is a small, medieval town along a river, a place that seems lost in time, where nothing much could ever happen.

Peering into a private garden

But it was endlessly charming.

And we slowly became aware that there must be a lot going on here; every shop door (closed when we were there) had a poster about artistic events: music festivals, concerts, art displays, yoga and energetic healing workshops. Returning to further explore this town is high on our list (and I'll probably stop by the bar, just in case Monsieur Crumb shows up).

Yes, the streets are narrow

(And, there is a music recording studio in this building!)

So yes, we are learning about the area, and finding surprises in, well, surprising places.

Night at the Museum

After the OuiShare Fest was over, we had one more free day in Paris before we took the train back to Montpellier. We were up early that morning and headed out the door to wander, taking in the sights and sounds. But one of our “must do’s” was to return again to a Turkish restaurant we’d found in “the old neighborhood,” near where we’d stayed in November. And, inveterate researcher that she is, Paula found that this Saturday night was the annual free museum night, when many of the museums in Paris (indeed, in all of France) offered entry without charge, from 6PM to midnight. We made sure our perambulations brought us back to our apartment in time to rest up for our big night out.

Classic "Roof-Top Paris"; from the top of Au Printemps department store

From the steps of L'eglise de la Madeleine towards the Obelisk at Place de la COncorde and the Assemblee Nationale along Rue Royal

The same view in 30 November 2015, the night before COP 21: no traffic!

As the hour for dinner approached, we rousted ourselves and headed to the Metro for a quick ride to "our" restaurant. We were greeted with great warmth and pleasure by the owner, a woman who had fussed over us on our previous visits. It was incredibly gratifying to realize that she not only remembered us, but was wonderfully welcoming, giving Paula a big hug and seating us grandly at the table.  We ate very well that night!

But we did not want to dawdle too long, as the Louvre awaited us with its free entry. And there were sure to be huge crowds! Another bus ride through the city, and we descended just outside the gates right after sunset (about 9:30 in these parts, this time of year).

The Louvre; 9:30 on a summer night!

Crowds were not so big, and we started trudging through this huge former palace, now one of the most recognized museums in the world. After a considerable walk we came to the Egyptian wing. But that didn’t seem quite right; we were particularly interested in the European painters. Ah, but it turned out that wasn’t part of the free night. Instead, we toured Napoleon’s apartments.

Well, the guy knew how to live, and how to impress. The guard on duty told me that this was not a reconstruction, but the actual place where Napoleon lived and worked. (It was, after all, a palace for the King of France for 300 years, surely satisfying Napoleon’s ego!). It did not occur to me at the time to be embarrassed by this lack of historical knowledge; on the hierarchy of Stupid Tourist Questions it probably ranks pretty low.

The Salon and waiting rooms

And the formal dining room: William Randolph Hearst, eat your heart out!

Midnight approached; our legs ached. After a quick tour of some artifacts (plates; tapestries) from the 12^th and 16^th centuries, we were happy to make our way out and down into the nearby Metro station. A quick ride through a few stops, and we were back to our apartment, and to bed. Our train left at noon the next day, so there was plenty of time in the morning to finish packing.

Just another romantic evening in Paris!

Detail of a 16th Century tapestry showing a waterwheel mechanism: you can take the boy out of engineering...

We’re back in Paris!

Exciting, and this time the weather is warm(er) than it was last November! Of course, after being in Montpellier, in the south, we’re now used to actual warm weather, so it still seems a bit chilly here. But why quibble!

Getting here was quite a trip too – in the non-transportation sense. The transport part was easy. A 20-minite walk to the train station in Montpellier, bit of a wait, then board the TGV (tres grand vitesse, the high-speed train). Quiet, smooth, and fast, in about 3-1/2 hours we’d covered the 450 miles to Paris. The actual speed was displayed inside the car, and was mostly between 260 and 285 KPH (about 170 MPH).

The TGV in Paris (not my photo)

Confirmation of how fast it really goes (289 km/hr = 180 MPH)

Once in Paris we had little trouble negotiating the Metro and getting to the stop near our destination, but things got a bit sticky after that. We turned the wrong way coming up from the underground. Eventually, though, thanks to help from some friendly locals, we found our apartment, and the owner was waiting outside for us! Turns out Nicolas, our Airbnb host, went above and beyond. He was scheduled for a business trip for this week, which is why he was renting his place to us. But oops, his trip got cancelled. But rather than kicking us out – which would have been tough for us! – he found another place in Paris. Whew!

The 12' door to the courtyard in our Paris Airbnb apartment building

We quickly got the knack of the neighborhood, learning which way to turn coming out the door to get where we wanted to go. And, since the beautiful white domes of Sacre Coeur were visible from the street, we headed in their direction.

The white domes of Sacre Coeur

Once in Montmartre we returned to Il Pomodoro, a pizza restaurant run by a Sicilian, where we’d eaten when we were here, in November. The place was as good as ever, with the same fine Sicilian wine. Rested and refreshed, we headed for the Basilica, which meant climbing stairs with about a zillion steps. (Ah, but I exaggerate; there were only about half that many.) And once at the top, we found the place packed, with at least a zillion people (verified!). It was a beautiful Sunday in May, and getting near sunset – that being about 10PM – and everyone wanted to see those last rays strike the city.

Il Pomodoro restaurant, a nice find tucked away near the top of Montmartre

But the crowds became oppressive, and the sky clouded up, so we made our way down through the park, stepping gingerly around the puddles of urine left by the beer-drinking homeless (a problem endemic to parts of the city). Once out of the hills of Montmartre, we were on the main road (Blvd. de Rochechouart), the one full of tourist trinkets and hucksters. Dusk was falling, and we didn’t really want to be here after dark. (I’ve never been in a part of Paris where I felt unsafe – although there are many areas I haven’t been! – but there are some areas that are certainly less interesting than others.) We came upon a bus stop, waited for a few minutes, and when the bus arrived, we climbed aboard.

While the bus system is somewhat harder to understand than the underground Metro, and gets delayed by surface traffic, it doubles as a sightseeing platform, moving through the city much faster than a walk (and the bus rarely gets lost!). We stayed on the bus past our stop, and rode it clear to the river (that would be the Seine).

The city grew up along the Seine, and the banks remain an extremely popular (read: high-priced) area. It’s always interesting, and forever romantic. We walked out on the Pont Neuf to watch the tour boats cruise by, then sat and gazed downriver as the clouds parted from the horizon just as the sun set.

Sunset from the Pont Neuf

Heading home we passed the huge, very old, and fabulously decorated Hotel de Ville, the seat of government for the City of Paris. The 85 bus was waiting for us (well, not for us, so much, but it was waiting), and we were soon back at our new apartment.

Hotel de Ville, center of government for the City of Paris

OuiShare Fest, the conference for which we came to Paris, started on Tuesday. There was a volunteers meeting Monday evening, which meant we had a whole day to explore, and re-visit, before we had to start “work.”

First on our list of “must dos” was a visit to the “old neighborhood,” the area where we’d stayed for five weeks in November and December. We headed over to the canal we had enjoyed so much before, then followed it to the terrace where we’d come that first night seven months earlier. This time we passed up the bad wine and expensive beer on the terrace, and visited our old street.

A walk along the Canal d'Ourq is still a favorite; now with leaves on the trees!

The built-in ping pong tables see heavy use in pleasant weather

It was almost surreal, being back. We last time we were on this street was at four in the morning, getting a taxi to the airport. And here it was, exactly as we’d left it. We bathed in a bit of nostalgia, then returned to the canal. And saw something we had been longing for the entire previous trip: a boat passing through the locks in the canal. The boat lowered slowly, slowly as the water drained from the upper lock; then the gates opened and the boat moved through into the next lock. Repeat, as needed.

An empty lock, awaiting a boat -- gates (background and near foreground) are closed.

Water draining from the upper lock --

as the boat waits for the water level to drop and the gates to open.

These locks, and the canal, were built about the same time Baron Haussmann was exercising his radical urban renewal on Paris, in the first half of the 19^th century. Originally they were a major transportation link, but their importance diminished with the rise of rail, and later, roads. Now they are a very pleasant diversion from the busyness of the city, a long linear park running north from the river.

The hour grew later, and we ran up against a hard fact about life in Paris (and, indeed, France as a whole): you can’t get a meal between about 3PM and the start of dinner, around 7:30. Restaurants aren’t serving; the many people in the always-crowded cafes are drinking, not eating; the boulangaries have run out of sandwiches. There are always pastries, but we really needed more, having kept moving long after we should have stopped.

The crowded terrace, seen from the crepe stand

Eventually we passed by the terrace again, and found a little crepe stands tucked away. The nice lady was making both sweet (sucre) and savory (salee) crepes. The former have sugar, chocolate, Nutella on them; the latter, chicken, fried onions, mushrooms. We had a couple of the latter. They were yummy!

Tromp l'oeil in Montpellier: things aren't always what they seem!

Just a ways down the main street from us we came upon this remarkable sight, a building that was not really all we thought it was:

These are two real buildings, both with flat fronts, and no windows (I think; hard to tell!)
But the passers-by are real, for sure!

Here's a detail from the lower level.

As we began to look around we found several more examples of this kind of work. While some of these are done by the same artist, there are a number of artists in the region who like to engage in this kind of challenge.

The height of this building made it particularly difficult, but this kind of artistry presents other challenges, as well.

How about this one, across from the St. Roch Church (St. Roch is the patron saint, the founder, actually, of Montpellier; his likeness is found on the red banner hanging from the large windows).

We counted seven real windows; how many can you find?

Particularly appealing are the many details, unnoticed with just a quick glance.

It's a real café, with a real door. But the red-painted wood façade? As real as the flower pot in the window above it!

 

A very nice touch, this: the church across the square "reflected" in the false glass.

A tourist take photos while the young resident looks down

And this old fellow, in on the joke, winks his eye at the whole affair. (Note the scallop shells, the symbol of St James, and long popular with pilgrims on the Way of St James to the apostle's shrine at Santiago de Compostela. A part of this popular pilgrimage trail passes through Montpellier, and those streets are specially marked with brass scallops.)

And finally, this pleasant café, shaded in the heat of the day, overlooked by balconies on the adjacent building. Are they real, or are they... ?

Next up: We take the TGV to Paris, for the OuiShare Festival

VIews of Montpellier

We've been settled in Montpellier for about two weeks now, and are beginning to find our way around.  In France there seems to be no reason for streets to meet at right angles, nor for an intersection to contain only two streets. As in Paris, in Montpellier there are a few long, wide streets connected and crossed (at random angles) by smaller roads. It tends to make navigation a bit confusing.

And that is in the more modern part of town. The old town is particularly confronting! However, we've been here long enough to learn our way around, and with a bit of care, we don't get hopelessly lost anymore.

To show you what I mean, here's a map of the downtown area (the 'burbs extend for quite a ways outside this area!)

The darker orange is the old city, as defined by the original Medieval walls (which no longer exist). This area is called the Shield (Escusson in French), due to its shape. We live just outside the old walled area (see Us, in the lower left?). Nice, older buildings, but not the tight, Medieval streets of the old town.

To give a sense of scale, we can walk to the east edge of the Shield (the bulge on the right) in about 15 minutes. More, if we wander (and why would we not wander??) Compared to Paris the area feels quite small and manageable. We get out and explore a bit every day. Here's some of what we've found.

Street musicians. Many styles and varieties. These Gypsies are playing the main square, Place de la Comedie, in front of the opera house. Seems they're there at least every Sunday. Play real well!

The same square at night. It gets dark late here; this is at about 10PM.

A shady café is a welcome find  in the narrow streets

Crazy bicycle art

Always lots of tourists (yes, that's a "selfie stick" and no, they are not Americans!)

And street people (often with dogs)

Some monumental architecture, and a few great sunsets

And plenty of street musicians, these with some catchy rhythms

And plenty of street musicians, these with some catchy rhythms

To hear these "catchy rhythms," check this video:

Lyrics:

Color!

Coffee!

How I love the color of coffee!

(Repeat)

Next up: Trompe l'oeil in Montpellier: things aren't always what they seem!

FISE – The International Festival of Extreme Sports (2 of 2)

What are we doing here in Montpellier, in France? A large part of it has to do with seeing what is going on in the rest of the world. Much of it interests us. Some of it doesn't. Some things that we'd never consider "back home" seem inexplicably fascinating here in a different context. Extreme sports events is in this latter category. How far would I travel to attend such an event from my home in Los Osos? Not far, honestly.

But now we've come thousands of miles (5968 miles, actually), and we've stumbled (almost literally!) on this world-class event. How can we not take an interest?

A tiny part of the crowd on Friday

The next day, Friday, we took the tram for the first time, back to the river and the on-going Festival. The tram stop left us further down river than where we had been the day before, and we ended up in the BMX (bicycle motor cross) area. The whole river, both sides, was packed with people! Some areas, further from the action, we pleasant, not so crowded, and under the trees.

Cool and relatively quiet out here!

We stayed for several hours, moving slowly through the crowd (as if there was any other way), trying out various viewpoints. We saw some pretty amazing moves, with the bikes coming off the jumps rising high in the air and seeming to hang for moments, while the riders spun and flipped (and some – less experienced – managed to just hang on).

It was extraordinary, and mostly good. Not so good, however, when we got frozen into the human glacier moving imperceptibly towards the exit. Oh, and they were playing the Worst. Music. Ever. (OK, so I’m older, and still stuck on Suite: Judy Blue Eyes, but that head-banger music with a guy screaming his tonsils out on some inane phrase like “Don’t call me white!” over and over really doesn’t make it for me). But it seems to be what the skateboarders and bike riders like… keeps the adrenaline pumped.

But the views are better closer in.

Still, the sun was shining, the river was sparkling, the beer was flowing, and everybody was having a good time. And there were a lot of kids, little knee-high rug rats thrilled to be there, so near their big heroes. Plenty of family activities, too: zip lines and climbing walls, and these funny water “hamster balls.” (The kids get inside and throw themselves at each other, completely protected by the air-filled plastic cushion.)

Kids love the "hamster balls"

Finally exhausted by the energy and intensity – not just of the activities of the contestants, but by the enormity of the crowd – we were ready to leave. We managed to extract ourselves from the press of humanity, and find our way to the tramway, horribly overcrowded today in spite of the extra trains added for the event. And soon we were back in our own quartier of town, and climbing the spiral stairs to our apartment, our new home.



Here's some short videos to give a sense of the dynamic action.

Next up: Gee, I don't know!