LE 13eme

The 13th arrondissement is most commonly associated with the larger of Paris's two China towns, but for my Paris Readings class, our professor asked us to walk around a lesser known neighborhood, the Butte aux Cailles.  Due to poor navigation skills and a fear of whipping out my map, and thus making myself a target for purse-snatching, I ended up wandering around Chinatown for a half hour or so before asking a nice french lady for directions.  Walking back to where I was supposed to be took about another half hour, though it had only been one metro stop before the place I got off.  Nonetheless, I made it to the Butte aux Cailles, and it was like no neighborhood I've seen in Paris so far.  It had single family houses, and tree-lined streets.  Cars slowed down for people who got caught in the street when the light changed to don't-walk, and the air smelled like chestnuts.

Chez Nathalie, i.e. at Natalie's!!

I love these chestnuts that have started falling around Paris.  They have this wonderful smell that reminds me of Germany and the lanes lined by chestnut trees in Icking.  I've been filling my pockets as I walk around the city, and I have a stash at the bottom of my bag that's making it unnecessarily heavier.

 

The spiky chestnut shells

The photo didn't quite turn out, but this man in the back of a boulangerie is standing behind a huge tray of baguette dough that's all rolled out, and about to go in the oven.

This has to be a reference to Central Perk..

Goodnight, and happy almost-end of September from Mousse, Claudine's cat.  

WHAT I ATE

If you know me, you probably also know my notoriously difficult eating habits.  It's true, I admit it, I do not eat every, or even most, things.  But prepare to be shocked and amazed: tonight I sat down for dinner in front of a raw hamburger patty with an egg cracked on top, and I ate it.  That's right, steak tartare was on the menu for this evening, and contrary to every kitchen sanitation fundamental, I resisted the urge to drown my plate in hot, soapy water, and I ate that raw meatloaf.  It was not too bad.  At the same time, I can't help thinking it's a good thing my government-mandated health exam was today, because tomorrow I may simultaneously come down with mad cow disease, and salmonella.  I was too shocked to take a picture, so this contribution comes from the wonderful world of google images, and looks a lot like my plate did, though mine had homemade french fries (they put the french in french fry).  

THE BEACHES OF NORMANDY

At (roughly) 7am this Saturday, the BC students of Paris met on the steps of the Opera Garnier for a trip to Normandy.  We hopped in our bus, and some drunken frenchman hopped in the luggage compartment.  Once he hopped back out, we were on our way.  Our first stop was the D-Day museum, where we were given an overview of the day, and its greater context of WWII; as well as a tuna salad, with fish and hash browns.  Luckily this was followed by a chocolate tart.  

The architecture of the building is meant to symbolize the way D-Day broke through the german wall of defense.  (the German flag is not the only one there, but somehow it's the only one that made the photo)

The beaches of Normandy!  Saturday afternoon we were planning to go sand-yachting, which as far as I can tell involves tiny go-kart-like-buggies that have sails attached, which you use to fly along the beaches.  It must be intense because it requires a full helmet and jumpsuit.  Unfortunately there was no wind, so our group divided into kayakers and boaters.  Needless to say I was a boater.  The boat tour, though, was not for those hoping to slowly cruise along the shore.  Our boat was one of those inflatable rescue rafts, and there were no interior seats.  Instead everyone sat along the edge as our driver tore over waves and zig-zagged along, stopping occasionally to throw in a historical tidbit and let us collect ourselves off the floor.  I expected someone (probably me) to fall in.  

When the British landed on D-Day, there were no harbors to dock their boats or to receive future supplies as they came in.  So they constructed these temporary harbors in the UK and brought them along.  The American ones further down were destroyed in a storm, but these have been standing since June 10, 1944, four days after D Day.  

Loving the boat cruise

Old men and the sea.  

The next morning the beaches were all misty, and you could hardly see the water.  While we missed the panoramic view of the temporary harbor, it set the mood for our day of touring the german bunkers, landing beaches, and two of the cemeteries.  

A german bunker, holding a gun that can shoot at a 15 mile range.  

The monument at the American cemetery.  

The allied movements into Europe, shown from the UK (the English Channel is at the bottom)

A monument to the National Guard, who took the beach below.  

When the Americans landed here, they had to scale these cliffs with grappling hooks and ladders before taking the german bunkers and guns.  

And there you have it, my weekend in Normandy.  The overwhelming feeling was the stark contrast between the horror of what happened here, only about 70 years ago, and the awe-inspiring, breath-stealing landscape.  I'm not sure whether it made it more real, or less, but I think I felt that contrast more than anything else.  

I didn't get any photographs of the apple tree and cow covered countryside, or the cidre factories, that littered tiny roads and ancient villages we passed through between monuments, but I wish I had.  It is the most beautiful place, and seems largely untouched by the past hundred years (though they did give in to McDonalds).  I would love to go back and see it slowly, with time to wander the little towns, and the cliffs.