16

Le Marais

M intro

 

Yeah, yeah, I know. The Marais? Tourist trap extraordinaire? 

Well, it’s a choice I made by accident really. Due to my sudden decision to stay longer in Paris, we’ve had to find new accommodation. Our next apartment wasn’t available for a week so I needed something quickly to fill in the gap. When I spotted a tiny pied-à-terre in the Marais for a good price it got me thinking – was the Marais as souless as it seemed?

At a quick glance the area, which straddles the 3rd and 4th arrondissement, seemed to be just shops, cafes and a handful of historic mansions converted into museums. Did anyone actually live there? On a previous whip through the place some weeks ago I hadn’t seen a single boulangerie or boucherie. Just shiny shops and smart cafes. Was that it?

I decided to rent the apartment for the week and explore the place. And so here we are, ‘Suburb’ No 16… Le Marais.

The history of the place in warp speed… From the 13th-17th century, French nobles built their grand Hôtels, urban mansions, here. When they left the Jews moved in. By the 1950s, it was working class and the place was a mess; the mansions were crumbling and by the 1960s there was talk of it being demolished. In the decades following the Hôtels were restored and turned into museums, the area scrubbed up. Today, it’s a mix of Jewish, gay, cafes and restaurants, fashion labels and museums.

But a soul? Did it have one of them?

 

Part 1: Rained out

The Marais started out in life as a swampy marsh – and this week it very nearly returned to one. La pluie has not stopped falling. Well, that’s not entirely true. It was sparkling sunshine on the day we arrived. Then the next day it rained. Only it would rain and then stop. Rain and stop. Rain and stop. And that’s how it continued. Every day, all day long, for the entire time we were there. (Hence the late post by the way.)

 

before la pluie

before la pluie

 

 

 

one moment, le soleil, the next, la pluie

one moment, sun, the next, rain

 

 

 

cold and wet - perfect Spring weather - if you're a duck

cold and wet - perfect Spring weather - if you're a duck :: 1

 

 

 

cold and wet - perfect Spring weather - if you're a duck ::  2

cold and wet - perfect Spring weather - if you're a duck :: 2

 

 

 

what rain?

what rain?

 

 

 

wet weather activites in the Marais :: 1

wet weather activities in the Marais :: 1

 

 

 

best to sit inside madame

best to sit inside madame

 

 

 

wet weather activities in the Marais :: 2

wet weather activities in the Marais :: 2

 

 

 

a few tourits still braved the wet

a few tourists still braved the wet

 

 

 

please sun, come back again

please sun, come back again

 

 

 

Part 2: The mix in the Marais

At first the rain was just irritating. Water on the lens. Coco complaining about her umbrella. Wet shoes. But as the days passed, I started to like it. Most importantly, it meant hardly any tourists; when we’d arrived on that sunny Sunday it was so packed with bodies that I literally couldn’t get a sense of the place let alone take any pictures.

Now virtually empty, I started to see another Marais than the one I’d first encountered. Instead of packs of tourists, anonymous clothes shops and fashionable eateries, I saw medieval winding streets lined with magnificent former mansions and beautiful gardens. I suddenly got how amazing it was that Haussman hadn’t done his thing here, leaving the maze of narrow streets intact instead of creating grand boulevards as he had in much of Paris.

 

inside a pied-à-terre, outside a mansion

inside a pied-à-terre, outside a mansion

 

 

 

after the purple rain

after the purple rain

 

 

 

What also intrigued me was the mix of Jewish and gay. One here for centuries, the other a more recent arrival.

 

star and studs - living side by side

star and studs side by side

 

 

 

With the tourists gone, we met people who either lived, worked or played in the Marais. For example, Gregoire, a lovely French guy who was heading to an interesting book-bar called La Belle Hortense. He invited us to join him for a drink and to meet a friend of his, Nikolai, and the woman behind the bar, Caroline.

 

so I said, where are you going, and Gregoire said, to La Belle Hortense, come with me

so I said, where are you going, and Gregoire said, to La Belle Hortense, come with me

 

 

 

Caroline at La Belle Hortense

Caroline at La Belle Hortense

 

 

 

maybe he's writing A History of Paris at La Belle Hortense

maybe he's writing A History of Paris at La Belle Hortense

 

 

 

Leaving La Belle Hortense to its merry business we met…

 

Marceau

Marceau

 

 

 

what is it exactly, Jean Louis?

what is it exactly, Jean Louis?

 

 

 

Then there’s the Jewish side of the neighbourhood. In the 13th century and then again in the 19th, Jewish people moved in to the Marais around rue des Rosiers, or Pletzl as they call it, Yiddish for ‘small square’. Although gentrification has transformed the Marais into le chic, it’s still very Jewish with kosher restaurants, boulangeries, charcuteries, bookshops plus synagogues and shtiebels.

 

The Jewish side of the Marais

the Jewish quarter of Paris

 

 

 

Sacha

Sacha

 

 

 

James

James

 

 

 

On the day we arrived I spotted a tiny blue Fiat 500 sitting on a street corner. Suddenly a family of four appeared and poured into it. In response to my look of surprise they said, there’s only four of us today, normally there’s five.

 

normally there's five of us, this is our weekend car

normally there's five of us, this is our weekend car

 

 

 

Aside from the gay and Jewish side of the Marais, there are also the young lovers, taking advantage of a handful of beautiful gardens to look deep into each other’s eyes. Well, until I butt in with my camera that is.

 

there are gardens to admire and gardens for amour - Hannah and Ederim

there are gardens to admire and gardens for amour - Hannah and Ederim

 

 

 

love struck - Fabien and Rebecca

love struck - Fabien and Rebecca

 

 

 

And while the Marais is filled with cutting edge fashion labels, it also has a couple of second hand shops and a library that houses fashion mags from the 50s and 60s.

 

retro vs classic - Claudia

retro vs classic - Claudia

 

 

 

window shopping

old fashion

 

 

 

 

Part 3: Manger in the Marais

While the rain helped transform the Marais from tourist trap to moody ghost town, it was also incredibly frustrating as much of the week was just too wet and windy to shoot. Some days there was nothing for it but another visit to Meert, a pastry-sweet shop that has been ruining French teeth since 1761. Their speciality is a gaufre (waffle) filled with sugar, butter and vanilla. Nice (apparently – I couldn’t try) but what we found totally addictive were the fruit jellies and caramels.

 

how to brighten up a rainy day in the Marais

how to brighten up a rainy day in the Marais

 

 

 

tangerine dreams

tangerine dreams

 

 

 

waffles

gaufres

 

 

 

Place de Vosges residents have eaten Meert's waffles for 200+ years

Place de Vosges residents have eaten Meert's waffles for 200+ years

 

 

 

Aside from waffles, there’s the Yiddish/Eastern European specialties in the Jewish quarter, from the baked goods to the famous falafel.

 

they come from all over Paris for the pastrami

they come from all over Paris for the pastrami

 

 

 

bread and butcher, Jewish style

baker and butcher, Jewish style

 

 

 

There are of course myriad cafes and elegant restaurants in the neighbourhood too. We eschewed the lot of them for our weekly ‘treat’ meal by revisiting the classic Le Bistro Paul Bert, just around the corner from the Marais. We’d had lunch there with Audrey, a lovely blog follower, the week before and I was keen to go back to snap the place. Very reasonable (18 euros for a three course lunch), plenty of atmosphere and yes, le bon gout.

 

18 Euros for 3 courses equals happy customers

18 euros for 3 courses equals happy customers

 

 

 

lamb and celery puree

lamb with celery puree

 

 

 

mmm, is that Emincée de pomme au caramel et beurre salé?

mmm, is that Emincée de pomme au caramel et beurre salé?

 

 

 

Part 4: The other creatures who inhabit the Marais

They live out their days on handsome doors or in quiet corners down narrow streets away from the tourist packs.

 

wild Marais

wild Marais

 

 

 

mieow!

mieow!

 

 

 

once a mansion, today a museum

once a mansion, today a museum

 

 

 

The Wrap

If we’d never rented that apartment and spent a week hanging around in the Marais, I would’ve probably written it off as touristy and shallow. But wandering those empty streets in the half light, rain dripping down its proud stone walls, without its adoring fans, I felt like I had a glimpse into its aristocratic past and saw a little of what lies behind its present shiny veneer. It’s not an ordinary neighbourhood anymore and the people I spoke to who’ve lived there for more than 20 years are not fans of the way it’s changed. But despite all its faults – expensive, tourist-oriented, and in need of a few more boulangeries and boucheries – I do think the Marais has a soul. But you can only see it in the rain.

 

 

look at the sky Coco!

look at the sky Coco!

 

 

On the ‘home front’

As I explained, we’re between ‘homes’ at the moment. After this week in the pied-à-terre – tiny, old and eccentric with a bathroom in a cupboard – we’re off tomorrow to our next place for two and a half weeks, then it’ll be onto another one for a month. Luckily Coco is not a child who craves consistency and like me, is excited by the prospect of new.

And the home schooling? Not good. We barely do any and when we do, Coco tells me I’m the worst teacher ever. How bad is that? But then she has learned at least five new French words in the last few weeks. That’s got to count for something right?

(Actually, it is worrying me. If anyone knows of someone in Paris who wears a beret and can home school a child, please get in contact with me. Okay, the beret is negotiable.)

 —

This suburb has been brought to you by Jen Robinson

See you next Friday. So long as la pluie stays away.

 

15

Belleville

B intro

 

This week we slip back within the périphérique to explore a neighbourhood called Belleville. But only just. Located mainly in the 20th Arrondissement, Belleville began life as a wine-making village well outside the city walls. It was only in the 1860s that it was dragged kicking and screaming into Paris.

Since then various waves of immigrants have kept changing the face of Belleville, the latest being the Chinese. In some parts it feels distinctly like we never left Hong Kong, with Asian shops, restaurants and residents dominating the landscape.

But it’s more than just another Chinatown. On top of the Asian vibe is a cosmopolitan, arty feel, something close to New York’s East Village.

Nearby is also the world’s most visited cemetery, Père Lachaise, where anyone who was anyone is buried, from Napoleon Bonaparte to Jim Morrison. Knowing I would encounter le touriste there, in droves, I ventured not.

Anyway, enough chit chat. Let’s go Belleville!

 

Part 1: Asia in Paris

As I said, Belleville houses one of Paris’s Chinatowns (the other is in the 13th). By the way, if you’re wondering why there are no images of any Chinese people, it’s because they were extremely reluctant to be photographed. It was even touch and go there for a while with the dumplings.

 

Asiatique indeed

Asiatique indeed

 

 

 

when Camille was tired, all she wanted to eat were dumplings

when Camille was tired, all she wanted to eat were dumplings

 

 

 

whereas the ladies could eat them anytime, especially after a rigorous morning of tai chi - or is that Qi Gong?

whereas the ladies ate them anytime, especially after a rigorous morning of tai chi - or is that Qi Gong?

 

 

 

Mr Wu yearned to be out there on a bicyclette

Mr Wu yearned to be out there on a bicyclette

 

 

 

Belleville, located somewhere between Manhattan and China

Belleville, located somewhere between Manhattan and China

 

 

 

Part 2: The bar scene of Belleville

Well, the bar scene before dark anyway. You know I don’t do dark. Like to but the logistics of organising babysitters etc etc … Anyway, Belleville and nearby Menilmontant offer everything from the quiet, shady to the hip and loud.

I spent most of my time at one cafe-bar called Aux Folies. This was where Edith Piaf, who was born in Belleville, used to sing when the place was a cabaret theater back in the 1950s.

 

and so are tattoos

and so are tattoos

 

 

 

he's straight out of Edith's day

he's straight out of Edith's day

 

 

 

off to le café

off to le café

 

 

 

mint tea and her messages

mint tea and her messages

 

 

 

love that look

love that look

 

 

 

Aux Folies is the sort of place you can’t fail to meet someone interesting. Like Luna and her dad, Pat. He runs a rock n roll bar in nearby Menilmontant and told me that I should come that evening as there was an excellent singer on. I mumbled something lame about babysitters, all the while thinking, damn, I’d so love to go.

 

Luna and her rock n roll dad :: 1

Luna and her rock n roll dad :: 1

 

 

 

Luna and her rock n roll dad :: 2

Luna and her rock n roll dad :: 2

 

 

 

Right now, the various bars in Belleville are filled with people studying the papers – the Presidential elections are on this Sunday.

 

all eyes are on the news as France prepares to vote this weekend

all eyes are on the news as France prepares to vote this weekend

 

 

 

politics goes better with beer

politics goes better with beer

 

 

 

no papers, just his thoughts to keep him company

no papers, just his thoughts to keep him company

 

 

 

Part 3: Spring has sprung

Well, sort of. When we arrived almost five weeks ago it was unseasonably warm and sunny. Not a glove or hat to be seen. Spring, I thought. But no. In the last week the real Spring has reared its head apparently, which pretty much means rain, wind and cold with occasional sunny bits. Gloves and hat back on. Maybe even thermals.

Still, the gardens and flowers of Paris could care less. They’re out and proud, holding their pretty little heads high despite the chilly drenchings. All except for the cherry blossoms, which seem to have peaked and are now busy forming pink carpets all over Paris.

Belleville has le Parc de Belleville. Not only filled with fleurs but also offering an excellent view over all of Paris – Montmartre without the crowds. The first time I looked out over the view I couldn’t believe I could see the Eiffel Tower as well as the twin steam stacks of Ivry-sur-Seine, a suburb just outside Paris where some friends of ours live. Paris proper really is very small.

 

flowers are springing up everywhere

flowers are springing up everywhere

 

 

 

Anna and her purple fleurs

Anna and her purple fleurs

 

 

 

ring may have sprung but it still sprinkles

Spring may have sprung but it still sprinkles

 

 

 

their best days are behind them

their best days are behind them

 

 

 

and Pauline

and Pauline

 

 

 

his days of chasing women in the springtime are fini

his days of chasing women in the springtime are fini

 

 

 

and look, there's the Eiffel Tower!

and look, there's the Eiffel Tower!

 

 

 

Part 4: To Gambetta

It’s quite tricky knowing when you’ve left one neighbourhood and entered another in Paris. So I decided to just wander and not worry too much if I strayed out of Belleville. Which I did, quite convincingly, into nearby Menilmontant and Gambetta.

Gambetta in particular has some interesting pockets. Still in the 20th, the area around rue Saint Blaise is one of the oldest in Paris, with the original cobblestone street still intact.

 

I'm still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah

I'm still standing, yeah, yeah, yeah

 

 

 

It was on rue Saint Blaise that I met Florence, a proud African woman who was somewhat bemused by my desire to take a picture of her dress. But come on, great frock.

 

the times they are a changin'

the times they are a changin'

 

 

 

 

Just around the corner from Florence I met this lovely lady. I can’t remember her name but I loved her ‘do.

 

as she was then and now

as she was then and now

 

 

 

Gambetta is home to Mama Shelter, a hip hotel designed by Philippe Starck, located alongside an abandoned railway, le Petite Ceinture, which I think once defined the boundary of Paris.

 

next to le Petite Ceinture, now abandoned

next to le Petite Ceinture, now abandoned

 

 

 

blue eye shadow - Mama and Lena

blue eye shadow - Mama and Lena

 

 

 

(And yes, you have seen Lena before, in the first Paris post. I met her in the 20th when we first arrived and I was nosing around the area. I mistakenly put her in the Faubourg Saint Denis post. She’s so radiant I thought she deserved a second appearance.)

 

 

 

Sarah, so Paris

Sarah, so Paris

 

 

 

Gambetta is also home to La Fleche d’Or, a famous music scene that operates out of an old railway station.

 

maybe scooter girl is off to La Flèche d'Or tonight

maybe scooter girl is off to La Fleche d'Or tonight

 

 

 

Part 5: Yes Coco, by law French people must eat a baguette every day

It could almost be true. What else can explain the fact that every French man and woman seems to end up with a baguette under their arm at some point during the day, if not at numerous times.

 

baguette before church

baguette before church

 

 

 

baguette after bar

baguette after bar

 

 

 

The queues outside the Patisseries also make me wonder if every Parisian eats cake every day. It would make sense – they need the calories to fuel all the walking they do, especially the near vertical variety.

 

walking shoes, Paris style

walking shoes, Paris style

 

 

 

Parisians walk, in rain or shine

Parisians walk, in rain or shine

 

 

 

and délicieux

and delicieux

 

 

 

Part 6: Chiens and chats

Hate to end on a sad note but one of our cats, Jinx, is still missing in action in Sydney. It’s been weeks now but I still haven’t told Coco as I keep waiting, hoping to hear news. As a result, I seem to have noticed more ‘Lost Cat’ posters than ever in my life as well as wanting desperately to stop and pat every single four legged creature that comes my way.

 

Arty, the camera shy chien

Arty, the camera shy chien

 

 

 

cat flying up stairs

cat flying up stairs

 

 

 

how do you tell a child her favourite animal may be no more?

how do you tell a child her favourite animal may be no more?

 

 

 

The Wrap

I don’t think I’ve done Belleville and its surrounding areas full justice – blame it on the rain, as well as the fact that I suspect I missed a lot by not being there at night when the place apparently really swings. But from what I did see, I can understand why those that live there are fiercely proud of it and consider it the best in all of Paree. Diverse, down to earth and not trop cher to live in. Vive le 20e arrondissement!

 

 

Coco and her Montessori mates

Coco and her Montessori mates

 

 

On the ‘home front’

Coco loved her kid time at the local bilingual Montessori school. She finished up there a week ago when the school broke for holidays. But she may be going back – because guess what? We’re staying longer in Paris. After booking flights to Berlin and arranging accommodation from next weekend onwards, I suddenly realised that I really wasn’t ready to leave. As excited as I am about Berlin, I’m just not done with Paris. (Okay, you may as well know, I love the place. Somewhere between the 4th arrondissement and the 20th, I got Paris. It happens.)

Who would have thought it from just two posts ago?

 —

This suburb has been brought to you by Berice Dudley and her grandchildren

See you next Friday.

 

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