Monday, December 25, 2006
Sunday 17 December 2006
Before we left LNL to go to Paris, a very important garden event took place - the first emptying of the compost bin. This had been filled and refilled many times since it was installed last March, and the level had gone down miraculously each time, but just lately with the colder weather, it had remained full to the top. I had often reflected that as I have half a grapefruit almost every morning for breakfast, there must be between 150 and 200 grapefruit skins in there! The compost was needed for the newly dug iris bed, and N took away about four bucketfuls of compost to spread over it.
As I went to the boulangerie on the morning we left and realised that the next day I would go to my "other" boulangerie in Saint-Denis, I thought how nice it was to be regarded as regular customer in two different boulangeries in two different departements. We left on Thursday afternoon at about 2 pm as usual; it was cloudy in Normandy and we saw Christmas decorations in all the villages and in Evreux, just as we had this time last year when we were just getting to know all these places. Towards Paris it was sunny, but the traffic was slow.
We are now back in Paris for about a week, for two events, the opera next Thursday, of which more later, but the first was on Friday when we went to an Honorary Degree Ceremony at the Sorbonne. This involved N getting out his ceremonial robes, a long yellow gown with black borders all buttoned down the front with a complicated sash threaded through, plus a flat round hat known as a "toque". The robe was made to fit, but is kept in a standard carrying case which is slightly shorter, so that the robe was rather squashed at the bottom - N said he thought that at over 6 ft tall, he is Longer then the Average Frenchman, which we both agreed would make a good title for a novel.
All this we took in two bags on the metro, and once arrived (thinking of the last time were there in June for the examination of the thesis, and it was so hot) we parted and N went in a back entrance for robing. I joined a crowd of other guests trying to get in a small entrance all waving their invitations and elbowing each other out of the way. Ironically, the invitations they were waving had "Séance Solonelle" printed on them, but the scuffle was far from solemn. The reason for the high security was that one of the recipients of an honorary doctorate was the President of Senegal; the other was an American academic. Once I was in the Grand Amphitheatre there was a lot to look at, as there were many ambassadors from African countries plus their wives, mostly dressed in beautiful colourful national dress. There were also many young Senegalese men dressed much more ordinarily, former students of the great man, and a Japanese lady just in front of me, wearing a kimono with all the trimmings, whom I studied at length from time to time. All the professors and emeritus professors walked in procession, N amongst them, and the honoured guests took their places on the platform amongst flags and maces, while the Sorbonne choir and orchestra plus their conductor (whom I recognised from the Saint John Passion in the Circus last April) played and sang "Gaudeamus Igitur".
I had been to Honorary Degree Ceremonies before in Cambridge, plus one tacked on to the end of my daughter Caroline's' graduation at UCL in London, so knew what to expect. (Except that in Cambridge the entire proceedings are in Latin.......) The eulogies and responses were punctuated by more music however, by Mozart and Gluck. All was quite interesting, especially the American who spoke excellent French and was amusing and entertaining, until we got to the final speech from President of Senegal which lasted far too long. The amphitheatre was cold and getting more and more draughty, and when I heard him talking about pesticides, and giving his website address, I thought it had really gone too far. N said later that from where he was sitting he could see the speech on the lectern and each time the president turned over a type-written page there were more beneath!
A short concert was scheduled for 7 pm, but it was already 7.20 when the speeches finished, and all the colourful Africans crowded onto the stage, and the Senegalese students gathered round one of their number at the front of the auditorium, while the orchestra tried to re-arrange their seating. N and I had arranged to meet at a restaurant once it was all over, and after hanging around for about 15 minutes I decided the concert was not going to happen and gratefully collected my coat and made for the restaurant, somewhat delayed by the president and his entourage going down a red carpet and into a very large car, just at that moment. Unfortunately it was no warmer in the restaurant, and some time before N arrived, having managed to get out of his robes and listen to the first movement of the concert. When we had been deciding on a restaurant at which to meet, I had seen notices offering "vin chaud", (hot spiced wine) and was disappointed to find that this one didn't have any. But we enjoyed our dinner, looking out at the lights and fountains in the Place de la Sorbonne, and thinking how unlike La Neuve-Lyre it all was.
On Saturday I had another interesting and somewhat surprising outing; having found "French, American and English Christmas Music" scheduled in the concert listings at the American Cathedral at 4 in the afternoon, I thought I would go along and listen as I'd never been there before. The Cathedral is in the Avenue George V - I'd never been there before either - a very smart avenue with at least two large exclusive hotels and the flagship store of Louis Vuitton (full of Japanese) on the corner. It was at number 23 - I don't think I've ever known a cathedral with a street number before; one can't imagine a door number on Ely Cathedral or Notre Dame.
The surprise came as I went in and was handed a programme; it was a service of Nine Lessons and Carols. The Cathedral was very like an English Anglican church; tall and lofty in pale stone, with sober stained glass windows, banners hanging from the ceiling and a marked absence of the statues and side altars seen in French and Italian churches. As I read through the programme - or rather, Order of Service - I was surprised to realise just how much I had been missing all this; advent services at King's or St John's Colleges in Cambridge; singing with the Cambridge choir at Bury St Edmunds in the cathedral there, the carol singing round the offices which we did at UCLES every December, and going even further back, school carol services which were always based on this model.
The hymns (sung by the congregation) and the carols (sung by the excellent cathedral choir) were indeed a mixture of French, American and English. Everything in the "programme" was translated into either English or French, which made very interesting reading, for example: "for mighty dread had seized their troubled mind = ils avaient peur.") The lessons were read in either French or English, according to the nationality of the reader, but the English was not exactly the King James Version, although very like it. As we all left an hour and three quarters later, I overheard an Englishwoman say "Yes, we've been coming for several years now", and thought yes, what a nice regular thing to do. I felt that the nice American academic and his wife from the Sorbonne yesterday should have been there, but didn't see them. There was a website address and other details on the back of the very efficient programme, so it would be easy to find out the date another year.
The next afternoon I was back in the Avenue George V again; with N this time, as we drove round Paris looking at all the Christmas lights, particularly those in the Champs Elysées. We did this two years ago, when I came to Paris for Christmas as a Mere Visitor; last year we were so glad to get back from working in the empty house at LNL and have a few days peace and comfort over Christmas that we stayed put and didn't go out anywhere. Christmas in Paris is magical; there are so many more decorations on the outsides of houses, shops and restaurants than in Britain, and so many more composed of tasteful foliage and silver lights, rather than coloured plastic. The Eiffel Tower was all lit up and sparkling and there was huge illuminated Ferris Wheel in the Place de la Concorde. It rained slightly and this made the pavements look all the more attractive, with the lights reflected in the puddles. The Champs Elysées was crowded with pedestrians looking at - and photographing - the illuminations, and lots of tourists and children.
Monday 18 December 2006
I have received many Christmas cards here at Saint-Denis, which surprised me at first until I realised that friends who contact me once a year would only have this address; when I sent out cards at the beginning of December last year, it seemed a little risky to give the LNL address as my new and permanent one before the signature had taken place! Many of the accompanying letters speak of retirement and grandchildren; I suppose it is not surprising, but makes me feel very old.
Today I have been on a large shopping trip - into central Paris for the fourth day running - and done the bulk of my Christmas gift shopping, to take back to the family when I visit between Christmas and New Year. When we are here N always tries to avoid going into Paris on the train as much as possible; but I always feel that there is so much out there to see and experience that opportunities should not be wasted. And in any case, it is not nearly as tiring as going to work every day; today I left at 10 in the morning and was back by 4, having spent the morning in the shopping centre at the Forum des Halles at Châtelet and the afternoon at Galeries Lafayette, especially in the Food Hall.
I have been to the beauty salon in Saint-Denis to have my eyebrows shaped and at last seem to have struck up some kind of ongoing relationship with the same beautician I saw the time before. She said I was "coquette" which I think was a compliment, and admired my necklace, and we discussed shopping and Christmas, just as I would have done in Cambridge, indeed as I do with my hairdresser in LNL, whom I now think I know very well.
Also in Saint-Denis the Christmas market has opened again like last year; a row of little wooden chalets behind the Hôtel de Ville and animals to look at: a donkey, cows, sheep, a goat, rabbits, chickens and geese. N reckoned that the donkey was the same one as last year, as he thought he looked very experienced. ("I've been in this game for years....") I was given free tastings of foie gras, honey and cheese, and bought honey and also a jar of chestnut jam - this will be a new experience!
Tuesday 19 December 2006
N's latest project is the planning of a trip to Luxembourg and Germany for the end of January, involving maps, guidebooks and routes. He has had the idea for some time, but when I received an invitation to the 60th birthday party of my German friend Erika - whom I knew in Cambridge about 10 years ago, and with whom I have kept in contact - it all fitted into place very well, and he says it is just what the new car needs. The party will be on the edge of the Rhine, just outside Frankfurt where she lives, and conveniently Luxembourg is on the way between there and Paris. Accommodation will be booked for us for the night of the party, and N has reserved us a hotel room in Luxembourg for the night before that. This means that he is very often reading a very ancient copy of "Teach Yourself German" in bed in the mornings, and I'm pleased to say I am doing better when tested than I did with the Spanish, especially when there are sentences like "There are no apples in the garden." They obviously haven't seen ours! We are just hoping that this Winterreise will not be too snowy and icy, and that the weather stays good.
Today we have been into Paris together, mainly to buy my Christmas presents from N which will not to be a surprise. They are a pan which is across between a frying pan and a saucepan, apparently called a "poêle à sauter" which I chose from the large catering equipment shop where we bought the cherry stoner last summer, and a little balance scale for weighing letters to get the right postage. I wanted the pan for the kitchen at LNL as N has one here and it's very useful. The scales came from BHV, N's favourite shop, where we also had lunch and looked at several other departments, glad that we no longer need to buy lights, door handles, bathroom fittings or curtain accessories.
Friday 22 December 2006
Last night we went to Opéra Bastille to see Der Rosenkavalier, by Richard Strauss. This is N's favourite opera, and I had been doing a little preliminary research by reading through at least five of his programmes from previous productions, in both Paris and London. It is, as he says, a bittersweet tale with bittersweet music, music that's rather an acquired taste, and one I am enjoying acquiring. It was an excellent production, with marvellous scenery, and costumes from an interesting range of eras, mostly about 1911. Some of the opera programmes contained pictures of old Vienna, which I am very anxious to visit - at least I shall have to be content with 21st century Vienna - something N wants to do as well, after we have been to Germany. Baron Ochs' jacket has inspired N to get out his German jacket for the party in Frankfurt; he says it has the effect of making people speak to him only in German. It is grey with green banded collar and pockets, and motifs made of bone.
As always, the opera audience were just as interesting to look at as the people on stage; costumes from an interesting range of eras there too, and fascinating people to look at and listen to. Nothing else heard other than French, last night. Sometimes it is a little more international.
Before we left LNL to go to Paris, a very important garden event took place - the first emptying of the compost bin. This had been filled and refilled many times since it was installed last March, and the level had gone down miraculously each time, but just lately with the colder weather, it had remained full to the top. I had often reflected that as I have half a grapefruit almost every morning for breakfast, there must be between 150 and 200 grapefruit skins in there! The compost was needed for the newly dug iris bed, and N took away about four bucketfuls of compost to spread over it.
As I went to the boulangerie on the morning we left and realised that the next day I would go to my "other" boulangerie in Saint-Denis, I thought how nice it was to be regarded as regular customer in two different boulangeries in two different departements. We left on Thursday afternoon at about 2 pm as usual; it was cloudy in Normandy and we saw Christmas decorations in all the villages and in Evreux, just as we had this time last year when we were just getting to know all these places. Towards Paris it was sunny, but the traffic was slow.
We are now back in Paris for about a week, for two events, the opera next Thursday, of which more later, but the first was on Friday when we went to an Honorary Degree Ceremony at the Sorbonne. This involved N getting out his ceremonial robes, a long yellow gown with black borders all buttoned down the front with a complicated sash threaded through, plus a flat round hat known as a "toque". The robe was made to fit, but is kept in a standard carrying case which is slightly shorter, so that the robe was rather squashed at the bottom - N said he thought that at over 6 ft tall, he is Longer then the Average Frenchman, which we both agreed would make a good title for a novel.
All this we took in two bags on the metro, and once arrived (thinking of the last time were there in June for the examination of the thesis, and it was so hot) we parted and N went in a back entrance for robing. I joined a crowd of other guests trying to get in a small entrance all waving their invitations and elbowing each other out of the way. Ironically, the invitations they were waving had "Séance Solonelle" printed on them, but the scuffle was far from solemn. The reason for the high security was that one of the recipients of an honorary doctorate was the President of Senegal; the other was an American academic. Once I was in the Grand Amphitheatre there was a lot to look at, as there were many ambassadors from African countries plus their wives, mostly dressed in beautiful colourful national dress. There were also many young Senegalese men dressed much more ordinarily, former students of the great man, and a Japanese lady just in front of me, wearing a kimono with all the trimmings, whom I studied at length from time to time. All the professors and emeritus professors walked in procession, N amongst them, and the honoured guests took their places on the platform amongst flags and maces, while the Sorbonne choir and orchestra plus their conductor (whom I recognised from the Saint John Passion in the Circus last April) played and sang "Gaudeamus Igitur".
I had been to Honorary Degree Ceremonies before in Cambridge, plus one tacked on to the end of my daughter Caroline's' graduation at UCL in London, so knew what to expect. (Except that in Cambridge the entire proceedings are in Latin.......) The eulogies and responses were punctuated by more music however, by Mozart and Gluck. All was quite interesting, especially the American who spoke excellent French and was amusing and entertaining, until we got to the final speech from President of Senegal which lasted far too long. The amphitheatre was cold and getting more and more draughty, and when I heard him talking about pesticides, and giving his website address, I thought it had really gone too far. N said later that from where he was sitting he could see the speech on the lectern and each time the president turned over a type-written page there were more beneath!
A short concert was scheduled for 7 pm, but it was already 7.20 when the speeches finished, and all the colourful Africans crowded onto the stage, and the Senegalese students gathered round one of their number at the front of the auditorium, while the orchestra tried to re-arrange their seating. N and I had arranged to meet at a restaurant once it was all over, and after hanging around for about 15 minutes I decided the concert was not going to happen and gratefully collected my coat and made for the restaurant, somewhat delayed by the president and his entourage going down a red carpet and into a very large car, just at that moment. Unfortunately it was no warmer in the restaurant, and some time before N arrived, having managed to get out of his robes and listen to the first movement of the concert. When we had been deciding on a restaurant at which to meet, I had seen notices offering "vin chaud", (hot spiced wine) and was disappointed to find that this one didn't have any. But we enjoyed our dinner, looking out at the lights and fountains in the Place de la Sorbonne, and thinking how unlike La Neuve-Lyre it all was.
On Saturday I had another interesting and somewhat surprising outing; having found "French, American and English Christmas Music" scheduled in the concert listings at the American Cathedral at 4 in the afternoon, I thought I would go along and listen as I'd never been there before. The Cathedral is in the Avenue George V - I'd never been there before either - a very smart avenue with at least two large exclusive hotels and the flagship store of Louis Vuitton (full of Japanese) on the corner. It was at number 23 - I don't think I've ever known a cathedral with a street number before; one can't imagine a door number on Ely Cathedral or Notre Dame.
The surprise came as I went in and was handed a programme; it was a service of Nine Lessons and Carols. The Cathedral was very like an English Anglican church; tall and lofty in pale stone, with sober stained glass windows, banners hanging from the ceiling and a marked absence of the statues and side altars seen in French and Italian churches. As I read through the programme - or rather, Order of Service - I was surprised to realise just how much I had been missing all this; advent services at King's or St John's Colleges in Cambridge; singing with the Cambridge choir at Bury St Edmunds in the cathedral there, the carol singing round the offices which we did at UCLES every December, and going even further back, school carol services which were always based on this model.
The hymns (sung by the congregation) and the carols (sung by the excellent cathedral choir) were indeed a mixture of French, American and English. Everything in the "programme" was translated into either English or French, which made very interesting reading, for example: "for mighty dread had seized their troubled mind = ils avaient peur.") The lessons were read in either French or English, according to the nationality of the reader, but the English was not exactly the King James Version, although very like it. As we all left an hour and three quarters later, I overheard an Englishwoman say "Yes, we've been coming for several years now", and thought yes, what a nice regular thing to do. I felt that the nice American academic and his wife from the Sorbonne yesterday should have been there, but didn't see them. There was a website address and other details on the back of the very efficient programme, so it would be easy to find out the date another year.
The next afternoon I was back in the Avenue George V again; with N this time, as we drove round Paris looking at all the Christmas lights, particularly those in the Champs Elysées. We did this two years ago, when I came to Paris for Christmas as a Mere Visitor; last year we were so glad to get back from working in the empty house at LNL and have a few days peace and comfort over Christmas that we stayed put and didn't go out anywhere. Christmas in Paris is magical; there are so many more decorations on the outsides of houses, shops and restaurants than in Britain, and so many more composed of tasteful foliage and silver lights, rather than coloured plastic. The Eiffel Tower was all lit up and sparkling and there was huge illuminated Ferris Wheel in the Place de la Concorde. It rained slightly and this made the pavements look all the more attractive, with the lights reflected in the puddles. The Champs Elysées was crowded with pedestrians looking at - and photographing - the illuminations, and lots of tourists and children.
Monday 18 December 2006
I have received many Christmas cards here at Saint-Denis, which surprised me at first until I realised that friends who contact me once a year would only have this address; when I sent out cards at the beginning of December last year, it seemed a little risky to give the LNL address as my new and permanent one before the signature had taken place! Many of the accompanying letters speak of retirement and grandchildren; I suppose it is not surprising, but makes me feel very old.
Today I have been on a large shopping trip - into central Paris for the fourth day running - and done the bulk of my Christmas gift shopping, to take back to the family when I visit between Christmas and New Year. When we are here N always tries to avoid going into Paris on the train as much as possible; but I always feel that there is so much out there to see and experience that opportunities should not be wasted. And in any case, it is not nearly as tiring as going to work every day; today I left at 10 in the morning and was back by 4, having spent the morning in the shopping centre at the Forum des Halles at Châtelet and the afternoon at Galeries Lafayette, especially in the Food Hall.
I have been to the beauty salon in Saint-Denis to have my eyebrows shaped and at last seem to have struck up some kind of ongoing relationship with the same beautician I saw the time before. She said I was "coquette" which I think was a compliment, and admired my necklace, and we discussed shopping and Christmas, just as I would have done in Cambridge, indeed as I do with my hairdresser in LNL, whom I now think I know very well.
Also in Saint-Denis the Christmas market has opened again like last year; a row of little wooden chalets behind the Hôtel de Ville and animals to look at: a donkey, cows, sheep, a goat, rabbits, chickens and geese. N reckoned that the donkey was the same one as last year, as he thought he looked very experienced. ("I've been in this game for years....") I was given free tastings of foie gras, honey and cheese, and bought honey and also a jar of chestnut jam - this will be a new experience!
Tuesday 19 December 2006
N's latest project is the planning of a trip to Luxembourg and Germany for the end of January, involving maps, guidebooks and routes. He has had the idea for some time, but when I received an invitation to the 60th birthday party of my German friend Erika - whom I knew in Cambridge about 10 years ago, and with whom I have kept in contact - it all fitted into place very well, and he says it is just what the new car needs. The party will be on the edge of the Rhine, just outside Frankfurt where she lives, and conveniently Luxembourg is on the way between there and Paris. Accommodation will be booked for us for the night of the party, and N has reserved us a hotel room in Luxembourg for the night before that. This means that he is very often reading a very ancient copy of "Teach Yourself German" in bed in the mornings, and I'm pleased to say I am doing better when tested than I did with the Spanish, especially when there are sentences like "There are no apples in the garden." They obviously haven't seen ours! We are just hoping that this Winterreise will not be too snowy and icy, and that the weather stays good.
Today we have been into Paris together, mainly to buy my Christmas presents from N which will not to be a surprise. They are a pan which is across between a frying pan and a saucepan, apparently called a "poêle à sauter" which I chose from the large catering equipment shop where we bought the cherry stoner last summer, and a little balance scale for weighing letters to get the right postage. I wanted the pan for the kitchen at LNL as N has one here and it's very useful. The scales came from BHV, N's favourite shop, where we also had lunch and looked at several other departments, glad that we no longer need to buy lights, door handles, bathroom fittings or curtain accessories.
Friday 22 December 2006
Last night we went to Opéra Bastille to see Der Rosenkavalier, by Richard Strauss. This is N's favourite opera, and I had been doing a little preliminary research by reading through at least five of his programmes from previous productions, in both Paris and London. It is, as he says, a bittersweet tale with bittersweet music, music that's rather an acquired taste, and one I am enjoying acquiring. It was an excellent production, with marvellous scenery, and costumes from an interesting range of eras, mostly about 1911. Some of the opera programmes contained pictures of old Vienna, which I am very anxious to visit - at least I shall have to be content with 21st century Vienna - something N wants to do as well, after we have been to Germany. Baron Ochs' jacket has inspired N to get out his German jacket for the party in Frankfurt; he says it has the effect of making people speak to him only in German. It is grey with green banded collar and pockets, and motifs made of bone.
As always, the opera audience were just as interesting to look at as the people on stage; costumes from an interesting range of eras there too, and fascinating people to look at and listen to. Nothing else heard other than French, last night. Sometimes it is a little more international.
# posted by Chez Katherine @ 7:38 AM 
