THE CANAL DISTRICT IN PARIS

It was a brilliant sunny day when we decided to tour the Canal District of Paris. Parts of the waterway -- built between 1806 and 1825 to link the Seine with the 108km-long (sorry I don't know how many miles that would be) Canal d l'Ourcq- are higher than the surrounding land.
We took the subway and when we got off the train this is the graffiti that greeted us. We headed for the park that runs along the edge of the canal.

This statue sits at the entrance to the Canal Park.


This was our first view of the canal.


The canal gates closing on us and our journey begins.


There are old swing brides and half-moon footbridges and the lovely dappled shading of horse-chestnut trees everywhere. It makes for a perfect area for a romantic stroll or a leasurely bike ride.



There is graffiti, too, but somewhat sophisticated.


There are lovely tree lined walkways along the canal.


People sit along the edge of the canal in the early Paris summer.


The cafes along the Canal are a perfect place for a glass of wine and catch a bit of the cool breeze coming off the water.


Homeless people live along the canal and though we did not see too many other incidences of homelessness it was really quite evident at the entrances of the tunnels along the canal.


At one point in our journey the keepers of the canal had trouble opening one of the locks. We could see a large sections of something rising and falling in the water. I thought it might be a body but it turned out to be a drifting sleeping bag that got caught in the gears. It was pulled free and we were on our way again.


The half-moon footbridges are a great place to stand and watch the barges pass by.


This is a view of what it looked like as we entered the first tunnel.


There are air vents deep inside the long tunnel. The Saint Martin section of the canal tunnel travels directly under the Palace de la Bastille.


The Saint Martin tunnel is pretty long and is eerily-lit.


We saw this sign "Canal Saint-Martin Port De Plaisance" as we sailed out of the canal area.


Once we were out of the Canal District we traveled along the Seine River and this is a view of the Notre Dame from the river.


Notre Dame is on the largest of two islands located in the middle of the Seine. Here is a shot of people lounging on the tip of Ile Saint Louis, the smallest of the two islands.


This is a view of the shore line as we passed the Louvre.


This was the end of the Canal District and Seine River tour.

RHODIA, PARIS AND ME

Packing for a vacation is always a hassle. Though I follow the rule, pack only half of whatever it is that I want to take. That’s worked for me over the years when it comes to my clothes, but reading material and something to write on has always presented me with a problem. That is until this year when I brought along with me to Paris a pocket sized Rhodia notebook instead of my standard sized Rhodia.

This handy little notebook fit perfectly in the back pocket of my jeans, in my jacket pocket and it even snuggled in comfortably next to a tube of lipstick in a small evening handbag I took with me when we went out for my birthday dinner at a very fancy restaurant.

I never know when I might want to jot down a story line, make note of a special sighting, or record something like a name, a food, a place or even an e-mail address.

I like to travel light: a camera, a notebook and a bit of money in my pocket.



Our first morning in Paris we sat in an outdoor café drinking coffee with hot milk; still groggy from our flight and fearful that I’d forget this wonderful moment, I took out the Rhodia, jotted down a few observations and took a photo of the moment.



This little notebook accompanied me on outings to many French eateries. The most noteworthy was an excursion into the depth of flavors of a Mouse au Chocolat that we ordered in a restaurant on the outskirts of what is said to be the largest flea market in the world. I was copying from the restaurant’s chalkboard menu what we had eaten for lunch and the waitress came up behind me and asked, really quite assertively, “Why are you copying our menu?” I was startled by her comment and she made me feel as though I might be doing something illegal, and I responded, “I want to remember.” She gave me a funny look and walked away.



My Rhodia and I traveled across many of the bridges that crisscross the Seine River.


Then there is the story of Djello, a fantastic husky that we encountered while strolling near a lake one cloudy afternoon on the outskirts of Paris. I could not resist taking a photo of this dog with its magnificent blue eyes. I told Mitzi, the dog’s owner, that I’d e-mail her a copy of the photo and I whipped out my Rhodia and copied down the name of the dog and the owners e-mail address. There was no fumbling for a scrap of paper; the notebook was very accessible and with a pen that I had clipped to the front cover it was all very easily recorded.



My Rhodia and I have looked up at the Eiffel Tower and marveled at how powerful this structure looked against the blue sky.



But I think that the most exciting moment for me and my Rhodia notebook came when we discovered that while on a tour of the Canal District in Paris we steamed right past the Exacota and Clairefontaine warehouse, the exporters of the Rhodia notebooks to the USA. I had no idea where this company was located in Paris and when I saw the familiar logo printed across the building I quickly whipped out my notebook and took a couple of photographs. That was a very cool experience and totally unexpected.

Even though the trip to Paris is over, the enjoyment is not finished yet, as I untangle my photographs and the notes that I have made in my Rhodia. There are no chocolate or coffee stains on the cover of this notebook, nor is there an greasy smears of the delicious French butter, there are, never the less, tons of memories jotted down on those Rhodia notebook pages.

WHEN DOVES CRY

There is a significant time difference between Paris and New York. So, for the first couple of days there was some confusion with going to sleep and waking up. Then, the sleeping straightened out and the mornings and evenings fell into a normal pattern.

Though each morning we were awakened at dawn by the strangest howling. The light in the bedroom, dusky and dream-like made the noise seem all the more strange. The morning would go silent again, I'd fall back to sleep only to be awakened a shot time later by another plaintive calling out. This went on every day, each morning, a strange howling coming from somewhere in the interior courtyard of the apartment complex where we were staying.

We tried to reason out what could be making this eerie sound. Neither my husband nor I had ever heard anything like it before and though we did not think it was anything threatening, we were certainly curious. Then one day I looked down into the courtyard and saw a mourning dove slowly, gracefully walking across the patio garden path. The delicate, soft grey bird then flew to the other side of the building, its wings making a familiar high pitched swishing sound. But then when the bird landed under the eaves of the windowsill and called out to its mate on the other side of the courtyard, the soft cooing of this gentle little thing was caught in the curved structure of the window and its song echoed up to our window sounding more like a wolf howling than a bird call. Then I watched as the pair took flight and disappeared on the other side of the roof tops.





We had several days left of our visit in Paris and each morning we were serenaded by the plaintive dove's cry. Then one night I remembered a 1984 Prince song, "When Doves Cry". I could only remember that it was a tragic love song. I associate doves with love and Paris is known as a city for lovers, though these mourning doves made me realize that where there's love there's bound to be heartbreak. And we did see what appeared to be lover's tragedies while traveling through the streets and gardens of Paris. In one department store I saw a young girl weeping and weeping, and an older woman trying desperately to console the crying girl. They made a quick purchase and hurried out into the street, the girl still crying so hard that tears were streaming down her face. We saw another women walking briskly through a beautiful garden, hurrying passed lovers nuzzling each other on park benches, her yes red from crying and she brushed so close to us that we could hear the sobs choking in her throat.

Here are the lyrics from:

WHEN DOVES CRY

Dig if you will the picture
Of you and I engaged in a kiss
The sweat of your body covers me
Can you my darling
Can you picture this?

Dream if you can a courtyard
An ocean of violets in bloom
Animals strike curious poses
They feel the heat
The heat between me and you

How can you just leave me standing?
Alone in a world that's so cold?
Maybe I'm just too demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father too bold
Maybe you're just like my mother
She's never satisfied
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like
When doves cry

Touch if you will my stomach
Feel how it trembles inside
You've got the butterflies all tied up
Don't make me chase you
Even doves have pride

How can you just leave me standing?
Alone in a world so cold?
Maybe I'm just too demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father too bold
Maybe you're just like my mother
She's never satisfied
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like
When doves cry

How can you just leave me standing?
Alone in a world that's so cold?
Maybe I'm just too demanding
Maybe I'm just like my father too bold
Maybe you're just like my mother
She's never satisfied
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like

When doves cry

LOOKING UP

Walking the streets of Paris is a dream-like experience. Most of the buildings are old, old, old but very well maintained. Some of the churches date back to the 1200's so for an American this puts an entirely different spin on the concept of historical landmark. There are crazy crooked dog-leg shaped streets with deep shadows that have an air of mystery and intrigue. And though the streets and the facades of the buildings are so delightful, for me it was when I looked up at the roof tops that I found another level of interest.

Some buildings stretch out in simple elegance.


Apartment dwellers everywhere in the world bedeck their balconies with greenery and Paris is no exception.


This is a photograph of a group of apartments that over look the Notre Dame, the Seine and the Left Bank


When you walk passed the outside of the Lovre look up and you might see the statue of a naked Napoleon III astride a muscular steed looking down at you.




And when the Paris sky is dotted with small white clouds and the blue of the atmosphere is at its most brilliant, that's when the rooftops are breathtaking.



The configuration of chimneys sometimes look like crowns adorning the roof tops.