Tour Eiffel

The Eiffel Tower has become the symbol of Paris, and given that it can be seen from almost anywhere, there is little wonder why.  However, every time we visit, we seem to start at the TE, and this time was not different for us, or for many thousands of other visitors.

 

The full set of photos is hereTour Eiffel Album

The 16-ème

The 16-ème arrondissement is a quiet area in the west of Paris near the Bois de Boulogne, which houses many embassies.  It is relatively untouched by the tourist hoards that consume many other areas around the city, and so it is possible to experience life as a local with only a little imagination. 

The streetscapes are very French, and even the names are familiar, at least to Dominique Bruneau. 

Rather than endless standard meals at cheap Bistros, the market provided plenty of fresh and interesting food, served with vigour by the locals – one slice at a time if necessary.

Although we did find the maker of the best éclair in Paris, he had made enough money from his fame, and closed for the holidays.

One feature of the area is the statue of Jean de La Fontaine, who watches a scene from one of his fables, an exchange between the crow and the fox in the Jardin Ranelagh, Paris. The fox gets the cheese by telling the crow that he would like to hear his wonderful singing voice. The crow opens his beak to sing, the fox gets the bounty.

Paris at a Different Pace

After many visits to Paris over the last thirty-five years, we decided to visit at a different pace and from a different perspective. We chose AirBnB in the 16-ème arrondissement. We spent five days walking – from the 16-ème to the 1-ere and half way back, across the Promenade Plantée, around the Bois de Boulogne and following Pissaro and the Aqueduc de Louveciennes. We also found time for a ride on the Bateaux-Mouches along the Seine at sunset.

Instead of the big galleries we visited the Rodin exhibition at the Grande Palais. We also found our neighbour in the 16-ème, the Musée Marmottan Monet, which is the best permanent impressionist museum in Paris. It houses a permanent exhibition of the best works of Berthe Morisot, the often-ignored woman at the centre of the Impressionist Movement. The current temporary exhibition featured Pissaro including several works from his Louveciennes sojourn in 1871 which sparked the visit to what is now an outer suburb of Paris.

We finished on a high note (not necessarily an accurate one) by joining in the Festival of Music on 21 June, singing along with popular French songs while celebrating the longest day of the year.

On the way, we went back to basics, finding good French traditional food in the markets and one very fine restaurant, and moved at the pace of the locals, slowed by the 35 degree heat of early summer.

Vertigo in the Streets of San Francisco

My exposure to the United States of America is limited to very small tastes years apart with little planning, so it is with some surprise and, indeed pleasure, that I found myself today wandering the Streets of San Francisco.

Prior to my leaving home, Dominique dug out the DVD of Vertigo, which was shot in SF, so that I could memorise all the sets and explore them on my two free days before my board week next week.  I thought that was an original idea until I found that the Empire Hotel featured in the last third of the movie is now called the Vertigo Hotel and plays Vertigo on loop non-stop in the foyer.  

Undeterred, I explored Sutter Street to find that the beauty salon is now a pizza place and the bookshop now sells burritos instead.  Nonetheless the feel of the street is the same.  

I did not understand why the tower was in so many shots until I found it stalking me throughout the day. It turns out that it is the Coit Tower, so named after the benefactor Lillie Hitchcock Coit who left a bequest to beautify the city.  The tower was the result.  It is in so many scenes because Hitchcock thought that it was a phallic symbol – and it stalks people.

San Francisco is, of course, more than just a set for Vertigo or a police drama.  It is a place where the street cars go the wrong direction when you hold the map upside down.  It is a place which is apparently subject to frequent fires, at least judging by the number of fire trucks racing around the streets with a rather weak sounding siren.  It is a place which names groups of streets “Mission” or “Union Square” or “Tenderloin” for no apparent reason or benefit in navigation. It is a place where the tourist office proudly sends you to Westfields to find the unique San Francisco shopping experience.  

It is a place where the tourists queue at the terminals at the end of the cable cars for the must-have experience of a ride on one and are prepared to wait for two or three to leave before there is room to accommodate them. The locals, of course, join the journey at the next stop one block further away with no queue.  

It is a place where there is a bridge dangerously similar to the Golden Gate only smaller and less impressive but a trap for the unwary tourist nevertheless.  They call it the Bay Bridge.  It is a place where the Golden Gate Bridge is carefully shrouded in fog at 3pm to frustrate impatient photographers.  

It is a place where, presumably due to some planning decision, the fire stairs are all on the outside of the building. 

It is a place which, in the middle of a tourist trap known as Fisherman’s Wharf, delivers a sanctuary for sea lions where they lie about in the sun and practice managing the pecking order from time to time. 

It is a place where the American Society of Civil Engineers Infrastructure Report Card score for the USA of 4 (1 being excellent and 5 being unusable) hits home on the once world-beating BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) when you (thankfully) can’t hear the fellow Australian trying to strike up a conversation on the way in from the airport.  He started with “I am not Right Wing or anything, but …” after that it was too noisy.  

It is a place where even the transit fare police wear guns but don’t use them when offenders run away. They don’t chase them either! It is a place where, in spite of the hills, locals ride bikes – around them not over them.  It is a place where white, black, Mexican, South American and Asian all seem to mingle and go about their business without really noticing that they have different races or looks.  It is a place where the Republican and Democrat Primaries are about to move into full swing.

And that is only one day. 

Above all, however, in spite of its variety, contradictions and tourist traps, it is a place which is intrinsically American, where people are polite, friendly, helpful and unabashed.  It is a place where you can order dinner at a “typical” diner – I am sure it was not a tourist trap – and get too much food and feel like “Happy Days”. 

 

It is also a place where you can order dinner from the menu for $25.90 and then find $0.78 added for Employee Health Benefits, $2.33 added for tax and then two lines with a Gratuity Example of 18% and 20% (no 5% or 10%) so that I walk away paying $34 a full 30% more than the advertised price.

I don’t think I will ever understand San Francisco.