29. We've moved house!

We've moved house. Our home for the next 32 days will be at 15 rue des Halles, in the 1st arrondissement.

Rue des Halles is in one of the oldest areas of Paris.  Les Halles (The Halls) were the original, central, undercover food markets, but before that, the area was the Cemetery of the Innocents.  Do you remember the story (see post No. 22) where the  main cemetery of Paris at Les Halles had to be cleared because of disease and contamination, and all of the human remains had to be moved into the Catacombs?   Well, yes, its the same place. And anticipating your question, "So, how long after the cemetery was emptied and the incompletely decomposed bodies rendered into tallow and candles, did the food market begin?"  That was your question, wasn't it?  So I went to the repository of all knowledge and I can now reassure you - it was a year!

And a few years later, when the market was in full swing and the merchants therefore happy, they built a fountain in the very centre of Les Halles and dedicated it to those who had anything but a peaceful final resting place - The Fountain of the Innocents.

Here it is, built in 1789 and about 50m from our apartment.  I could see it from my tiny balcony but for the building with the Beirut Café, opposite us.

Number 15 rue des Halles.  Our apartment faces south for the sun, has a tiny balcony with an equally tiny, table and chairs and you can see it there on the second floor to the right, above Le Bistro des Halles and Lapeyre.  The balcony is the living room window.  The window to the left of it is the dining area and the two windows to the right are the two bedrooms.    

It is a very large apartment of 100 square metres, nearly three times as big as our first tiny abode in rue de l'Arbre Sec, in 2011.  And it has 4 windows facing south, so if the sun ever shines again, I'll get every drop of it.

But there is always a story to tell, and this is where it happened. This is where I sat silently on the car fridge for more than an hour, playing Free Cell on my iPad, while the men tried to open this door.  

Again I anticipate your question, "How did we get ourselves into this position?"  Well, let me tell you.  

First of all, it is Sunday.  Secondly, Paris Visitor Services, the agents from whom we are renting this apartment and from whom we rented in 2011, do not work on Sundays.  The arrangment is that you pick up your key from a key safe at a specific secure location and then proceed to your apartment.  Good plan.  We did that.  Paul rode his Velib from rue Bachaumont to the secure key safe at 10am, picked up the key from the safe, secured in an envelope with his name on it,  and rode directly to the new apartment buildng, entered the building with the key, went to the correct apartment, rang the bell and, as anticipated, the cleaning lady answered.   They agreed that she would be completed by 1.30 pm and we could arrive anytime after that. Paul rode back to rue Bachaumont.  We rang the current landlord who agreed to a later departure, arranged a taxi for 1.30pm which arrived on the dot and turned up at rue des Halles at 1.40pm, just as the cleaning lady was leaving the building.  She wished us "bon vacance" at the front door and pushed her trolley full of used linen and towels off down the street.  

We heaved our two heavy bags (remember, Paul has acquired a dinner jacket and I have an extra pair of shoes plus a bargain-buy 30€ jacket), all of the computer gear which now includes a printer and a reem of paper (Yes I know! but it's hard to work on huge spreadsheets if you can't print), three green Woolworths shopping bags full of pantry/cooking supplies acquired over the past 5 weeks at rue Bachaumont, plus an extremely large car-fridge full of flippers, snorkels, goggles and hand paddles plus the duty free Drambuie and Opal Nera, into the lift and up to the second floor.

But the key doesn't open the door.  The nice Asian/Irish/French couple in the next apartment come to assist.  "Eet eez not zee correct kee, monsieur!  Zay av geev you zee rrong kee!  Yo needz wun leek zisss" holding up the type of key that we should have if we ever wish to enter this apartment.  At this stage, the two men have spent the best part of twenty minutes putting "zee rrong teep off kee" in the lock and trying to open the door.

Paul rings the Sunday emergency numbers for Paris Visit Services.  One number has a message bank, the other has an answering machine, "Please ring again during business hours on Monday.  In the meantime, read the instructions in the welcome pack for your apartment, they will explain everything." 

Well, sorry, but our problem is not inside the apartment!  We haven't got that far yet.  

Paul decides to ride back to the building with the key safe to make sure there were no mix-ups with the envelopes containing the keys.   The key safe seems intact - no loose keys.   On the way out of the key-safe building he runs into the cleaning lady.  There are three million people in Paris and he has the luck to run into one of the only two people who can help him.  "Ah, madame, I have a problem .....", hey gasps.  The lovely lady takes him to a third building, where she gives him the keys she had used when she cleaned our apartment.  Paul returns triumphant.  

I sit silent on the car fridge playing Free Cell for another 20 minutes while Paul, and then the helpful neighbour, try to open the door.  Says the neighbour "Thees eez zee correct type keee but must bee for zee udder apartment, not zees wun.  Yoo eez shorr yoo av zee correct apartment?"  

Paul is beside himself.  I know better than to utter a squeak.

Another door on the landing opens and an old couple in their eighties, or even older, emerge.  They ask the problem.  The helpful neighbour explains.  The old lady marches over to Paul, grabs the keys and fumbles them around the lock with her fingertips - she can't see well.  She finally gets the key into the lock and opens the door!  She picks up her handbag, hops into the lift and disappears.  

We are all silent - especially me. 

So, I guess we can go in then.

It is now Monday morning and the sun has come out! Magic! I've opened all of the windows and run around with my camera to catch some glimpses of an entirely different vision - sunshine.  Very soon I'll be sitting at my tiny table here on the balcony, with a coffee and SUNGLASSES!

This huge building site opposite us is part of the most recent redevelopment of Les Halles.  This is one of the entry points for the Metro and the RER (commuter express rail).  It is being redeveloped to better respond to passenger traffic flow.  At the rear are two hotels built in the late seventies, a Citadines and a Novatel.  Both look very out of date now and will probably update in the next decade to reflect the new themes of the latest Les Halles.

Looking to the centre right, from our windows.

And looking to our far right, watching a cycle tour go past. The Seine is one block past the buildings at the end of this street.

The living room.  

The kitchen.

The dining table, taken over by Paul for his computer.

My desk and printer, set up on a desk and side tables that we shifted from the bedroom.

The bedroom, with one of the dining room chairs we don't need around the table.

Looks great, eh?  The French love their baths!  It only has a hand held shower - which means you can wash the soap off with a hand-held shower after you bath.  Not for me - too cold. There is a 'normal' shower in another area.

The long hallway with the laundry in a cupboard at the far end.

Stunning antique Spanish chandelier in the living area.

A few nice touches.

Having finally concluded this saga, I am sitting in the very late afternoon glow, watching people coming home from work, the street cleaners changing the garbage bags, an illegally parked car getting towed away, two police foot patrols, each three abreast, one at each end of the street.  And just now - an accordian player serenading me on my balcony.  

How lovely is that?

28. Musée Carnavalet - The History of Paris

The Musée Carnavalet is dedicated to the history of Paris and its inhabitants and houses from pre-historic times until the present day.  A huge selection of works of art, momentos and models are on display in over 200 galleries, showing how the city looked in different eras and conjuring up its everyday life.

The museum is conatined within two adjoining townhouses from different eras.  The Hotel Carnavalet is one of the most outstanding examples of architecture in the Marais district, begun in 1548, extended in 1578 with a courtyard and stables, and renovated by architect François Mansard (who popularised the Mansard style roof, so evocative of the Paris street-scape) in 1660.  Purchased by the City of Paris in 1866 to house the municipal collections.

In 1989 the adjacent town house, Hotel Le Peletier Saint Fageau was purchased and the musée expanded around new walls, courtyards and gardens.

When Baron Haussman undertook the Renovation of Paris between 1853 and 1870 under Napoleon III's  "Second Empire", he implemented an extensive program of urban planning, both in the centre of Paris and in the surrounding districts: streets and boulevards, regulations imposed on facades of buildings, public parks, sewers and water works, city facilities and public monuments.  The planning was influenced by many factors, not the least of which was the propensity of the French to start street revolutions.

One of Haussman's requirements was that buildings should have street numbers.  This required shopkeepers, whose customers were often illiterate to remove their historic signage.  Signs had developed as descriptions of a merchant's business and were elaborate, clever and influential.  Scissors would indicate a barbers shop; an elm tree would indicate the maker of fine tools, and griffons, fawns and black cats were popular.  

A black cat on a semi-cicular moon was the sign for the legendary Chat Noir Caberat in Montmartre and is still used on postcards, coffee mugs and placemats in every souvenir shop.  The gallerie pictured above was full of signs from buildings that were demolished around 1850 under Haussman's modernisation.

This is the full facade of an apothecary shop, reconstructed in the musée.  It was saved when the building was demolished.  It is lovely, dark-honey coloured polished stone.  You can see an elm tree sign on the far wall.

When historic buildings were demolished or renovated, the best examples of interior pannelling were rescued and acquired for the museum, as a record of the interiors of Parisian houses of the period.  These panels came from the townhouse of the duc d'Uzes on rue Monmatre, carved in 1767.

These panels are from the late 19th C and came from a ladies sitting room. 

These are from the early 19th C.

Whole rooms were panelled using these decorated wooden panels, which added warmth as well as decoration.

Paintings like these two depicted Parisan life, activities and clothing.

The range of paintings was really impressive, chosen for their evocation of street life, home life, pastimes and styles of the Parisians.  This was a very engaging street scene around 1890.

The grand interior of the ballroom of the Hotel de Wendel - from around 1925,  and recreated here: all four walls complete with arches, as well as the ceiling.  It was a huge room, enhanced by magnificent curtaining.

Also from the early 20th C, the entire facade and interior, including mosaic floor, of Monsieur G. Fouqet's jewellery store from rue St-Honoré.

Designed by Alphonse Mucha in the art nouveau style, in 1900.  

But alas, time caught up with art nouveau and 30 years later M. Fouquet decided to renovate, completely removing all of this magnifient woodwork,

as well as the lighting, ironwork, 

stained glass,

wrought iron,

and even the mosaic floor!  Obviously, George wasn't short of a quid!

They shooed us out at 6pm when we were only half way through.

Well worth another trip though.  Free entry, like all of the City of Paris musée with 5€ each for an excellent audio guide.

We managed to make it to the subway before the next downpour.

27. Tour Eiffel aborted again

Wednesday looked promising with a few bursts of sunshine and blue sky amidst skidding low cloud.  So we went to the Tour Eiffel.  By the time we got there it was overcast and the wind chill factor made queueing for an hour or more, an unpleasant option.

In 2011, we also aborted a trip to the top of the Tour because the queues were impossible.  The lifts on one leg of the tower only service the Jules Verne restaurant on the first level.  The lifts on one of the three remaining legs of the tower are undergoing serious renovation.  So that leaves two sets of lifts only.  Those three vertical towers you can see in the photo are temporary lifts, used to bring people down rather than moving people in both directions.  It is still possible to walk up the stairs, of course and that queue was quite short, but while Paul was confident, I knew I couldn't manage thousands of steps.



So we wrapped our scarves extra tight against the wind and turned tail.

It is such an iconic structure that you could keep photographing it forever.

Paul has really taken to his iPhone; not only does it takes photos but it tells you the time and the temperature and keeps your shopping list. Oh, and you can call people too.  But who has time for that; too busy checking the weather.

The closest building to the Tour Eiffel that we hadn't visited before was Le Palais Du Tokyo.  It is the modern art museum for the city of Paris.

Turning around from the entry steps of the Palais du Tokyo, the Tour emerges from the trees.

The temporary exhibition at this modern art venue was by the American artist Keith Haring, a contemporary and close friend of Andy Warhol.

That's Keith.  The short documentary movie we watched about him was more interesting than the exhibition itself, but then, neither of us is a fan of modern art.

Waiting for the bus, there were whitecaps on the river, the sky looked heavy and threatening and it was 6°C. 

I wondered what these people were doing but didn't have time to explore too much as the bus was approaching.

Discovered later that this was the tunnel where the Pricess of Wales was killed.  The gold monument is not a monument to her, but was already in this spot.  However, as it is a replica of the flame on the statue of liberty, it has become a pseudo Diana memorial.  If you look at photos of it on the internet, it is regularly swamped with flowers and candles.  Only a few the day we saw it, but some serious pilgrims were about.

Oh, it is so cold!

26. Musée Pierre Cardin

It stopped raining long enough on Sunday to make a run for the Metro and take a long train ride to Saint-Ouen, beyond the Périphérique (the ring road that surrounds the 20 Paris arrondissements). 

Not far from the Saint-Ouen station, we found the Musée Pierre Cardin.  An unlikely suburb for a museum but this is purely private and something of a labour of love.

Only open Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday from 2pm until 7pm, the museum offers about 700 exhibits at any time, but has thousands of pieces in the archives.

Such a bland entry.

Meet my new best friend.  This is Renée Taponier, Curator of the Musée de la Mode and Assistant to M. Pierre Cardin himself.  Or so says her business card.

Because we were from Australie, so far away, and because she loved Paul's French and because she wasn't all that busy, she took us on a private tour of the whole display. 

But that is not the best part - she let me TOUCH everything.  All the beautiful fabrics, the boning, the stiffening, the fastenings.  She showed me how the designs were constructed and fabricated, what held them up, how they made the fabric curve, and puff, and pleat, and lay perfectly flat.

The view from the front door. There is a mezzanine, a basement and two side rooms leading off this 'grande salon'.

We began in the 1950's.  Every garment on display was made for a runway model and  was shown in a haute-couture parade.

Into the sixties.

Still the sixties.

Hand beaded with crystal sequins. 1970's.

My favourite, black silk velvet and silk lace.  From the 1980's.   Entirely wearable but incredibly flimsy.

More silk velvet and lace.

Fabulous!

The bride and the mother-of-the-bride.  1980's.

Cardin had a finger in every design pie around - he is most often criticised for spreading himself too broadly and thus diluting his focus on women's haute-couture. He was the first coutourier to open a boutique in the late fifties, the first to go into men's ready to wear, restaurant design and department store sales.

This museum displays many exquisite examples of the furniture range he designed and sold in the 70's and 80's.  Most are finished in what Renée called black lacquer but seemed to be more like two-pak. The ladies writing desk below is in black, fitted with teak.

Into a side room for gloves, shoes, jewellery and hats.

Renée presented me with a gift pack - a story book written by Pierre Cardin called 'The Silk Road' for the grand-lads; a book of photographs of a famous (but not known to me) ballerina who was dressed on stage and off by M. Cardin, and a biography of the designer.  Lucky me! 

Renée began an apprenticeship with the House of Cardin as a seamstress when she was 14. She has worked for him ever since, with brief stints as a model in her twenties. Apparently her work at the Musée is pretty much a labour of love.

Such a charming woman and such a treat for me ... to be able to touch everything!  And Paul was incredibly patient as he translated sewing terminology from one language to the other and back again.  

And we both now know more about crinoline (the stiffening used to create all those fabulous sculpted curves) than any person ever needs to know.