Tuesday 26 February 2013

Paris Interlude 1


It’s a little intimidating trying to write a blog about Paris. So many great writers have described its every season, aspect and mood. All a humble tourist can do is to try to put together a set of impressions that communicate something about our personal experience of this beautiful city. Like New York, Paris is one of those places you somehow ‘know’ as part of your cultural capital, even if you’ve never been there. Expectations are inevitable – the grand monuments and promenades, the charming stores and street markets, the museums, the stylish Parisians (also described by many as rude, arrogant and hostile to foreigners) – and the first of these expectations to be challenged was the one about grandeur. Yes, it’s all there – the cathedrals, the tower, the Louvre, the Arc – but the really lovely thing is the human scale of the city. Thanks to Napoleon III and his town planner, Baron Haussman, very few buildings rise above six to eight storeys. The bottom floors are typically devoted to small (often tiny) shops, restaurants and businesses of incredible variety, with apartments above. This means that there is no dead commercial zone, and it also means a constant lively social life on the streets as people shop, chat in bars and cafes, seek and provide entertainment, protest (‘manifs’ are an everyday occurrence) and generally engage with one another on the streets, even in the depths of winter. I really enjoyed seeing so many family restaurants, tiny studios, quirky gift shops and boutiques, music stores, real tailors and bootmakers, florists, bookanistes, and specialists in every imaginable type of food. The front of each bakery, butcher, fish shop, grocery, fromagerie and patisserie is a work of art and it seems no self-respecting Parisian shopkeeper would settle for anything less. We even saw a combined laundromat/art gallery.
 

The big international chains are all here, it’s just that they don’t get to dominate. In keeping with the ‘small is beautiful’ theme, we stayed in the Hotel du Theatre, a pretty little boutique hotel in the 17th Arondissement, just off the Rue des Batignoles. Decorated in the classic crimson and gold of traditional French theatre, the hotel had small but comfortable rooms – with immaculate new bathrooms – and friendly, helpful staff who all spoke excellent English but played along with my lame French. Which brings me to the next challenge – where were all those arrogant Parisians? Almost without exception, everyone we met was charming, friendly and helpful. I think making an effort to speak in French helped, or maybe it was being there in the off season, but the people were a delight. I wonder if that myth stems from the French insistence on remaining French, despite all the pressures of globalisation? From a very early age they learn to value their culture (witness groups of six year olds in colourful tunics, painting copies of Monets in the Louvre) and they don’t cave in to every customer demand for bigger, blander rooms or fries with that. I think the Gallic Shrug is an appropriate response to visitors’ efforts to make this place like everywhere else.
 

So, Parisians were far from rude, but they definitely were stylish. A smattering of high fashion along the expensive shopping avenues, but mostly people dressed in jeans, boots and well cut jackets. Caps, bags and scarves for colour and individual style – voila! It looks so simple, but somehow they just do it better. Our daggy boat clothes certainly didn’t win any awards, but we were an appreciative audience for the passing parade. I was amazed at how many of the women and children, with their dark eyes and creamy skin, could have posed for Renoir paintings (perhaps their great grandparents did?)

Just walking around, looking and listening, was great fun, but if you needed to get somewhere, the Metro is a terrific transport system – fast, simple and comprehensive. We bought Navigo cards that covered the week from Monday to Sunday (5E for the card, 19E for a week of heavy usage!) A bonus was the on-board entertainment, with talented buskers hopping aboard between stops to sing or play for a handful of coins.

On our first day, we rugged up in a few layers and took a long walk down to towards the river, via the Place de la Concorde. It was magical to see the Seine for the first time (with the Eiffel Tower in the distance, of course). With all the recent snow and meltwater from the mountains, it was flowing fast and cold. Water craft were clearly struggling against the current, though there were plenty of canal boats tied up along the banks, many of them with gardens, clotheslines and garden furniture that suggested they had thoroughly settled in. Highlights along the way: classy shops along the Rue Haussmann, and the accompanying classy shoppers; a whole shop featuring sculptures in chocolate; a delicious apricot crepe from a street stall; flower shops; the Luxor Obelisk; the massive square of Concorde, surrounded by beautiful buildings and statues; formerly this was the Place de la Revolution where the guillotine was erected and Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were executed in 1793. It’s weird to imagine the crowds of happy tourists replaced with cheering crowds as the heads rolled and the cobbles ran with blood.
 
Well, I might break at this reflective moment and publish Part 1 – Paris deux in a day or two. A bientot!

Thursday 7 February 2013

Unrest

It was a strange day on Wednesday. When we walked into town, there seemed to be a few more police around than usual, and the main supermarket was closed for no apparent reason. We bought a couple of things in the other store, then found ourselves hustled out through the back door, along with all the other shoppers. On the way back to the marina, we could see a crowd gathering in the main square. Even the weather seemed ominous, the pleasant evening suddenly swept away by a vicious cold, gritty wind. Something was clearly going on, and it didn't look good.

Back at the dock, one of the French cruisers told us that a leader of one of Tunisia's small opposition parties had been assassinated, apparently by a Muslim extremist. In several parts of the country there were spontaneous protests by groups who felt that their new, hard-won freedoms were under threat, and others critical of an Islamist government that they felt had not done enough to control violent extremists. Chokri Belaid is to be buried tomorrow (Friday) and there will be a general strike. We plan to lay low - an easier decision because that terrible wind is still blowing out there. I just feel for the Tunisian people who are already struggling with poverty and unemployment - tourism and trade are way down already and this can only worsen the situation for them. Our own plans to see some of the rest of the country are on hold, of course; the last thing anyone needs is a couple of silly tourists mixed up in any unrest.

So, we are safe here for the moment; and being on a boat means we can leave pretty much instantly should the need arise, which is unlikely. The island of Lampedusa, which belongs to Italy, is only 80 miles away, and Malta is 160 - easy as long as that wind isn't on the nose.

Monday 4 February 2013

To Market, to Market ... Boat Life #3

Of course the one thing we definitely WON'T find in the market here is anything to do with pigs - although I did read that Tunisia's only pig farm is close by, in Cap Bon. It is supposed to be heavily protected, but whether that's to stop the 'unclean' animals escaping or desperate Frenchmen breaking in to cut off a slice or two, I'm not sure. So, shopping. There are supermarkets here, as nearly everywhere, and it's always interesting to see what products are different (eg lots of varieties of couscous, chickpeas and halva, no oatmeal) but a trip to the market for fresh produce is much more interesting, as well as cheaper, fresher and more directly supportive of the local farmers. The daily markets near the medina in Monastir are excellent, with a huge area dedicated to fresh fish, lots of seasonal fruit and veges, dried fruits, nuts and legumes, and fresh meat and poultry. Halal meat is bled dry and ideally sold within a day of killing, so it tends to be tough and not so tasty. Further offputting is the head of the slaughtered beast which is often hung at the front of the stall to demonstrate freshness. I'm not squeamish about where my food comes from, but I'd really rather not look into its eyes, thanks. Poultry and fish, by contrast, are excellent.

On Saturday mornings there is a really big souk just out of town. This is where you see farm produce in bulk, and where local families come to buy up for the week. In addition to the food stalls, there are clothing, fabrics, kitchenware, tools, second hand goods and just about anything else you might want, generally at bargain prices. Sadly, a lot of the stuff for sale is junk made in China (like everywhere else on the planet), such a contrast to the beautiful Tunisian fabrics and ceramics - but much cheaper and more 'modern'. In a land which makes some of the most gorgeous carpets in the world, people buy hideous, garish nylon rugs for their homes. [Sigh] I guess that's the global economy for you.

Sea of plastic
 
At yesterday's souk, I bought navel oranges which are at the height of their season and delicious, cauliflower, peppers, spinach, fennel, zucchinis, giant multicoloured carrots, and celery - a special surprise for Terry as we haven't been able to find it before. With chicken breasts from our favourite poultry seller, we made a terrific stir-fry for dinner.
 
 
Contrary to popular belief, it is quite easy to buy alcohol here (except on Fridays), and Tunisia produces a decent local beer and some acceptable wines. And of course, being a former French colony, there are good French wines as well as excellent bread, pastries and icecream. Good cheese is harder to find, the local taste being on the bland side, but we have found a trader in the market who imports good strong cheese. We really enjoy the seasonality of market produce - strawberries are just starting to appear, signalling the beginning of spring - and time to cook a gateau fraise!