I often take photos that simply don’t fit into a post but that I want to share so I thought I might alternate Wednesday’s Bloggers Round-up with Photo of the Week. Those who follow me on Facebook or Instagram may have already seen them.
After our recent and most enjoyable wander along the Berges de la Seine between the Orsay Museum and Pont Alexandre III, we decide to go in search of the much-vaunted floating gardens on the other side of the bridge at Port du Gros Caillou. It’s a cloudy night and I realise too late that I should have taken the Lumix and not my iPhone which explains the poor quality of the photos.
We take our favourite n° 72 bus on rue de Rivoli opposite the Louvre and get out at Passerelle Debilly footbridge with its wonderful view of the Eiffel Tower. We walk across towards Quai Branly Museum but there are no signs of any gardens and we can’t even get down to the edge of the river from where we are.
I try to find some indication of where to go and finally consult Mary Kay’s post on Out and About in Paris, written when the islands were still in the project stage. We’ve come too far. We need to go back to Pont de l’Alma bridge. I was beginning to think we’d come on a wild-goose chase.
The handful of barges containing the gardens look very sad and sorry. As it’s after 6 pm, we can’t access them and the footbridge is raised. Obviously the wonderful weather this summer which has made the other parts of the Berges popular has not helped the gardens. Adequate watering, it seems, has not been scheduled.
You can’t eat, drink or take animals onto the gardens. Also there seems to be no shade in the daytime. I wonder exactly what they are for and if anyone uses them between the opening hours of 10 and 6. I’m also not convinced that the view of the Bateaux Mouches opposite is particularly attractive.
We keep walking towards Alexandre III bridge. Initially there isn’t much activity but after a while, we come to a more popular picnic area with vegetation forming a partial screen and little alcoves for the people sitting along the river.
A climbing wall with a few stray children comes into sight as we get closer to the bridge.
I’m surprised that at 9.15 pm on a Friday night, there isn’t more activity. There are no tables left at Faust’s but fewer people sitting in front. We debate about why. I wonder whether it was the after-work crowd that we saw mid-week. Jean Michel thinks they’ve all gone to the country.
We walk across the bridge and can see crowds on the opposite bank where the restaurants are. We decide to walk home along the right bank but it’s very dark and not very interesting. We see a few people sitting in the shadows on their barges but that’s about all. Next time we’ll stay on the left bank!
Szentendre, pronounced San-ten-dray, is a charming little town on the Danube about twenty kilometers north of Budapest, very popular in summer it seems as it is easy to get there by boat, bus, train or bike, but only crowded between about 10 am and 6 pm. After that, you can wander down the main street and only meet the locals. And we had one of our best dining experiences this summer at Muvesz in the Main Square. The architecture is mainly 18th century baroque and there are no fewer than nine churches!
It’s the next day after a wedding. Everyone’s having a late breakfast, including the groom who’s just joined us. The bride is still upstairs in their bedroom. This, of course, wouldn’t have happened in the olden days. They would have already been off on their honeymoon.
“As-tu consommé?” asks one of the guests. “Yes”, he replies, and everyone laughs. I am shocked! Fancy using the term consommer (to consume) in that context. How vulgar can you get. Then I realise that it must mean “consumate” as well.
I might add that it also means to perpetrate a crime …
It’s one of those French verbs that needs a different translation nearly every time in English. You could conceivably say “consume” in English when talking about food or petrol consumption, for example, but it certainly wouldn’t be natural.
On consomme beaucoup de fruits chez nous – we eat a lot of fruit in our family.
Cette machine consomme beaucoup d’eau – this machine uses up a lot of water
Le lot a été consommé par cette opération – the batch was entirely consumed by this operation
In fact, in English, we usually use the word consumption rather than consume, a typical case of a verb being replaced by a noun.
La voiture consomme 8 litres au 100 km – the gas/petrol consumption is 8 litres per 100 k.
La France est le pays où l’on consomme le plus de vin – France is the country with the highest wine consumption.
Another typical example is à consommer de préférence avant le 10/09/2013 – best before 10/09/2013.
On the opposite end of consummating a marriage, you can say la rupture est consommée, meaning the break-up is complete.
Do you have any other examples?
We’re back in Paris with our heads to the grindstone but it promises to be a lovely evening so we have an early dinner at home (very light – it’s a fast day) and set off through the Palais Royal gardens for the new Berges de la Seine area which Jean Michel hasn’t seen yet.
Berge, which has the same origin as “verge” in English, actually means a natural river bank in areas where there are no embankments, but has come to be used in Paris to mean the embankment along the Seine. Up until recently, the berges on both sides of the river were used as an expressway but on 19th June this year, 2.3 km along the left bank between the Orsay Museum and Alma Bridge were officially closed to traffic.
Les Berges de la Seine are now dedicated to pedestrians and cyclists, with various sporting and cultural installations, river boats and barges, picnic areas, restaurants, bars and gardens along the promenade. And they are packed with people of every age.
Our first stop, after walking across the Solferino footbridge between the Tuileries Gardens and the Orsay Museum, is an enormous green world map. The first time I came, I had Mary Kay from Out and About in Paris take a photo of me standing in Australia.
This time, I want to be an Aussie in France. Jean Michel has to take fourteen photos before I’m satisfied. I may have difficulty making my final choice.
I love the way they’ve used salvaged beams and containers for the installations. Jean Michel is disappointed though. He says it looks cheapskate. But the people using them as picnic tables and seating obviously don’t care. It’s so much more comfortable than sitting on the ground and they can accommodate far more people than a few picnic tables would.
The grey containers can be reserved, free of charge, by the hour, as a place to relax or work in. Quite a few have an Occupé sign but we can’t see anyone inside.
I note that there are public toilets, but I don’t check them out. No one seems to be queuing though so perhaps there are enough for once. I don’t understand the lack of toilets in this country. Often in a restaurant you find yourself standing in line because there is only one and it has to be shared by men and women.
Further along, under Pont de la Concorde, there is a “sound shower” to connect your mp3 or smart phone via Bluetooth and fill the vault with your own music. It doesn’t seem to have caught on though because the only sound is the humming of human voices and the lapping of the waves as the tourist boats go by.
We walk past the main eating area where containers have been converted into kitchens and bars and see there’s a long queue in front of En attendant Rosa (While Waiting for Rosa). There’s no distinction in the seating between people buying from the stalls and those who have brought their own picnic.
I like the covered deck chair area but it’s chockablock as well.
We come out on the other side of the beautiful Alexandre III bridge and spy the last table at Faust’s. We sip our Coca Zero (remember, it’s a fast day) and watch the sun set peacefully over the Seine.
“I’m going to buy one of those flat-bottomed boats so we can glide along the Loire after dinner”, says Jean Michel as we’re walking home with an enormous full moon in front of us. “I’ll make sure it’s big enough for you to have a deck chair so you’ll be comfortable.” I love my husband.
I’ve showcased three Australian blogs on this Wednesday’s Bloggers’ Round-up. Susan from Days on the Claise explains about stinky French cheese, while Kathy from Femmes Francophiles recounts a very exciting experience in Provence. Carolyn from Holidays to Europe takes us on a brief tour of the beautiful region of Alsace. Enjoy!
France is famous for its cheese, and quite a few French cheeses are distinctly aromatic. One of the stinkiest comes from the area between Deauville and Lisieux in Lower Normandy. Simon loves to tell people the story of us spending Christmas in the area and taking a block of the local Pont l’Eveque cheese home on Eurostar.
The other day he announced that the fridge smelled, as if there was stinky cheese in there, but he couldn’t see the source of the aroma and was mystified. Read more
Last week I returned to Catherine’s large home near the village of Sarrians in Provence having spent a week in her Paris apartment. I met Catherine earlier this year to arrange a home exchange in 2014. I consider myself extremely fortunate to house and cat sit for her for her. Catherine picked me up from the very modern Avignon TGV station which reminds me more of an airport than a railway station.
We drove directly to the village of Saint-Paul-Trois-Châteaux where she had an appointment. I was looking forward to exploring the village’s picturesque historic centre. Read more
Lakes or mountains (and often both) are usually essential reasons that make me fall in love with a town or region and include it on my ‘absolute favourites’ list. On my most recent trip to the UK and Europe, however, two regions without either a significant lake or mountain have knocked me for six and stolen my heart. The first region is the Cotswolds in England and the second, France’s stunning Alsace region. Read more
Today was our last day of summer in Blois. And, despite the sun, there was a slight chill in the air. We know that the next time we go there, in mid-September, autumn will be on its way. We had hoped that waiting until Monday night to go back to Paris after the Assumption weekend would mean less traffic, but we’re not so sure.
Before we left the house this morning, we chatted with our current guests at Closerie Falaiseau, Karin and Lothar from Stendal in Germany which is a mere 2,200 kilometers from Blois. They drove 1500 K the first day and 700 K the second , which sounds very Australian, doesn’t it? Karin explained that their home town of Stendal has a French connection. The well-known French author, Henri Beyle, author of Le Rouge et le Noir and La Chartreuse de Parme (1783 to 1842), is believed to have chosen the pseudonym of Stendal in hommage to the German writer Winckelmann from the town of Stendal.
The first thing on the programme for the day was a photo shoot in Blois as we wanted to take enough photos for Blois Daily Photo to last until we come back again. I just took my iPhone but Jean Michel took his Canon 1DS 24/36 which has a special lens that takes photos of buildings without distorting them, unlike mine where I have to stand as far back as I can.
We parked along the Loire on the Mail which is what they called the Esplanade here and wandered up the hill to the Jardin de l’Evêché (Bishop’s gardens) behind the Cathedral, feeling very much on holidays. I love the shadows cast by the morning light.
Our last port of call was the Saint Jacques fountain which I had discovered on a previous occasion. It’s just next to the Restaurant de la Fontaine Saint Jacques. I asked the waiter if it would be alright if we momentarily took down the Sangria sign and he very kindly removed it until we’d finished our photos.
Before leaving Blois, we checked out this year’s amateur photo competition on the banks of the Loire. Next year, we hope we’ll be able to enter it. This year’s theme was “L’insolite” – the unexpected. My favourite photo was an old gabarre flat-bottomed fishing boat by Thierry Thomas.
And, coincidentally, what should be parked just next to us on the Mail? This very snazzy rouge et noire Smart Car!
After a late lunch, we packed the car and drove to Chaumont to try out a new cycling itinerary, upriver a short distance, then down to Valliers les Grandes, across to Souvigny en Touraine, up to Mosnes, then along the river again to Rilly sur Loire and back to Chaumont.
It turned out to have lots of hills, especially quite a steep one at the beginning. We saw two lavoirs, four churches and several historical homes and lots of sunflower fields which in French are called tournesol . I always thought they turned in the direction of the sun. However, these were facing east and not west. Perhaps someone has an explanation.
I had just remarked that we hadn’t seen any hot air balloons – you can usually see a half a dozen in the sky at once late afternoon and early morning – when we saw one just ahead of us and quite low down, travelling very quickly towards Chaumont and no doubt on to Chenonceau.
The original 25 kilometers somehow turned into 35 because we changed the starting point and took a wrong turning at one stage and it was 8.30 by the time we got back to the Little House for our last barbecue of the season. And now we’re sadly on our way back to Paris and work.
Krems is a pretty town of 24,000 inhabitants at the confluence of the Krems and Danube Rivers at the eastern end of the beautiful Wachau Valley in Austria, and about 70 kilometers from Vienna.
We’ve just cycled from Château de Chaumont to Candé sur Beuvron, a lovely little path through shady woods along the Beuvron River on the Loire à Vélo circuit.
We reach the village and discover that renovations on the pedestrian bridge are finished and that it’s decorated with enormous brightly coloured flower pots.
We’ve already been here and have only found one bar open. Another cycling couple (French) are already having a beer. Jean Michel goes inside to ask for a Coca Light (Diet Coke) and comes back to say that there only have normal Coke.
We’re in a wine-growing region and Candé is in the AOC (appellation d’origine contrôlée) area of Cheverny so I say, “Un verre de vin local“. The lady comes out with a CAN OF WINE. I look at it askance. Winestar, it says.
“You can look like that”, she says, “it’s excellent wine”. Yeah, in a can … It isn’t even local wine but corbières from the south of France. I have never heard of WHITE corbières, what’s more.
The beer-drinking man at the other table says, “It’s a French invention. It’s just come out. Very popular.” “Eu, they’ve had it in Australia for years”, I reply.
We taste the wine which is drinkable, but that’s about all. The lady returns, “So, what do you think?”. I don’t trust myself to reply but Jean Michel says “c’est buvable mais ce n’est pas un vin local.” “C’est un vin excellent“, she says huffily and walks off. An excellent wine indeed! “Caractérielle“, says Jean Michel when she’s out of earshot. “Elle est caractérielle cette femme” which roughly means that she has personality problems.
We finish our little glasses and cycle back to Chaumont, just in time to see a half a dozen air balloons taking off from the other side of the Loire.
I check out Winestar on the Internet when I get home. You guessed it, Winestar* is a wholly-owned subsidiary of WineStar Pty Ltd. based in Melbourne!
*I’ve since learnt that Winestar in France has nothing to do with WineStar in Melbourne, which is strange considering intellectual property law.A Facebook comment by an Australian cousin currently living in France has inspired this post:
Dear smokers of France,
Although I have an odd accent, I will understand you if you ask me for a lighter. Making expansive gestures and asking “Do you ‘ave zee fire?” is only going to result in me busting out some sweet dance moves to prove that yes, I do indeed ‘ave zee fire.
“Vous avez du feu?” is a well-known opening gambit in French among cigarette smokers. It’s a classic example of how a word in one language can have an entirely different meaning in another.
Feu is used in a large number of French expressions, starting with cars and traffic lights.
feu antibrouillard = fog light or lamp
feu arrière = tail or rear light
feu clignotant = flashing light/blinker/indicator
feux de croisement = dipped headlights, low beams
feux de détresse = hazard (warning lights), usually called warning in French, pronounced waa-ning.
feux de recul = reversing/back-up lights
feu vert/orange/rouge = green/amber/red light, traffic lights and feu rouge is more specifically used to mean traffic lights in general e.g. tournez à gauche au prochain feu rouge = turn left at the next set of traffic lights, which is a bit odd if you think about it because you should really be turning at the green light!
Bonfire is interesting, because it’s called a feu de joies in French in reference to the fact that it provides a warm place that people can gather around at nighttime and enjoy themselves. Despite appearances, the “bon” in “bonfire” does not mean “good” but “bones”, originally denoting a fire on which bones were burnt, or for burning heretics. Much nicer in French!
Not surprisingly, a coup de feu is a gunshot, like our gunfire.
The hot plates on the stove are also called feux which means that a stove with three burners or rings is a cuisinière à trois feux though this is probably dying out as more ceramic cooking tops come into use, giving trois plaques.
An expression that’s really expressive is Il a le feu au cul, because it so exactly describes drivers that tear past you on the motorway, flashing their headlines for you to get out of the way when you’re already sitting on 130 kph. It has sexual meaning as well. Cul is a three-letter word for backside. I could probably do a whole post on it alone but the blog would be inundated with spam as a result! Suffice to say that there are a whole lot of expressions connected with the word.