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.

 

13

Faubourg Saint Denis

F intro

 

Welcome to Paris, the city that pretty much inspired this entire project. Why? Because – Francophiles, avert your gaze – I’ve never really ‘got’ Paris. On the two times I’ve visited, the last one 10 years ago, I’ve just never fallen under its spell. I thought perhaps if I left the tourist trail, explored the neighbourhoods and met the locals, maybe I’d feel differently.

As to the choice of our first Paris neighbourhood, I assumed I’d have to hit the real suburbs of Paris, the banlieue beyond the arrondissements, to find the non-touristy. But turns out that ‘Paris proper’ inside the périphérique has a handful of pockets that aren’t on the typical tourist trail. One such pocket exists in the 10th arrondissement, around Rue du Faubourg Saint Denis. After much deliberation and flâneur-ing, that’s where I ended up.

Which was lucky because last week I hit a wall and just didn’t have it in me to venture far. Three months into the project with no break, I found myself exhausted and overwhelmed. Having just got my head around Istanbul, suddenly we were in Paris. Each time we land in a new city it’s a steep learning curve, one that this project doesn’t allow time for. As soon as we hit the tarmac, I need to be out there, exploring and photographing, but instead I’m inevitably held up just trying to orientate myself at the same time as sussing out the nearest supermarket/chemist/laundry.

It doesn’t help that we’re staying in what must be the noisiest apartment block in town and I haven’t been sleeping. Nothing like tossing and turning at 3am worrying about, well, you name it – the blog running late, money, Coco’s (lack of) home schooling.

And while I’m on a roll, sorry to confirm the rumour, but Parisians by and large are not a friendly bunch. Elegant, tick. Polite, tick. But friendly, non! As a consequence, I’ve found them the toughest so far to photograph. They’re not curious or interested, just wary and mildly irritated.

All this ‘blah’ reached a climax mid-week when, struggling to settle on my first neighbourhood, feeling the pressure to produce and so exhausted I was kind of swaying as I walked, I wondered if this was ‘it’ – the point at which I broke and said, very sorry but no more. It’s gonna just have to be 12 Suburbs Around the World.

But like a bloody-minded chien with a bone, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and waited for something to change.

Thankfully it did…

 

Part 1: From old French to new

Okay, so we’re in the 10th arrondissement, in an area that was once outside Paris’s walls, marked today by a grand arch called Porte Saint Denis (on the right in the first image below). Not that I knew that – in fact, until I turned a corner to walk down rue du Faubourg Saint Denis and saw the 25 metre high beauty, I thought the only arch in Paris was the Arc de Triomphe. Which makes it my kind of arch, the one you stumble upon, sans guide-book or anorak-clad tourist queue.

Named after Saint Denis, a Bishop of Paris in the third century, the neighbourhood has had many lives, from Turkish/Jewish/Armenian clothes manufacturing to the dot com crowd. And just 10 years ago it was super dodgy. A no-go zone filled with drugs, crime, etc.

It still has an edge about it, with Asian sex workers draped over motorbikes at one end and a vibrant African community who run the hair and beauty salons at the other.

I found the vibe quite full on around these salons. African guys dressed New York style hang outside the shops, waiting to swoop on potential customers to get them in the door.

But I’ve long been a little obsessed with African braiding and wanted to document it. Forget it. Aside from a few who agreed, most of the time when I asked a woman on the street if I could photograph her ‘do, one of the guys would suddenly appear and quite aggressively say ‘Non!’. Even when I was outside a wig shop taking a shot of a mannequin in the window, a guy threw himself at me – same thing – ‘Non!’

A wig. Vraiment?

 

 

the old guard of Fauborg Saint Denis

the old guard of Fauborg Saint Denis

 

 

 

the new guard of Faubourg Saint Denis

the new guard

 

 

 

Paris, past and present

Paris, past and present

 

 

 

it's still all about the clothes and the hair

it's still all about the clothes and the hair

 

 

 

nice job but it ain't no wig honey

nice job but it ain't no wig honey

 

 

 

cool vs classic

cool vs classic

 

 

 

Part 2: A mixed neighbourhood

As I said, the neighbourhood still isn’t squeaky clean but it’s undergone an enormous change and is now quite bobo, bourgeois-bohemian. Artists, architects and ad types have all moved in, either working in former warehouses or moving into the apartments with their young families.

It’s an interesting mix of white well-dressed French families walking cute apartment-sized dogs, alongside New York style Africans and the myriad other cultures that exist around the area.

 

now and then

now and then

 

 

 

different crowds :: 1

different crowds :: 1

 

 

 

different crowds :: 2

different crowds :: 2

 

 

 

ha! you call those curls!

ha! you call those curls!

 

 

 

Eva, urban explorer

Eva, urban explorer

 

 

 

people mover, Paris style

people mover, Paris style

 

 

 

French kids really do wear stripes

French kids really do wear stripes

 

 

 

she's a dish

she's a dish

 

 

 

what have you got on your feet child?

what have you got on your feet child?

 

 

 

Part 3: The built stuff

It’s not hard to see the attraction for the bobo crowd. The neighbourhood is filled with characterful industrial bits from its former life as a manufacturing quarter and charming old apartment blocks.

 

light

light

 

 

 

ooh la la, you look good madam

ooh la la, you look good madam

 

 

 

curves

curves

 

 

 

distribution systems

distribution systems

 

 

 

how the French can eat so many pastries and yet stay so slim

how the French can eat so many pastries and yet stay so slim

 

 

Paris ‘proper’ is actually quite small but there’s so much life crammed in that you can turn a corner and there’s an entirely different vibe and neighbourhood. Five minutes walk from rue du Faubourg Saint Denis but still within the 10th arrondissement is the Canal Saint-Martin. Too picturesque for my camera but I found it interesting how much chic-er and ‘shinier’ everything suddenly became.

 

just around the corner, a shinier world

just around the corner, a shinier world

 

 

 The same goes for one of Paris’s Chinatowns, in Belleville. Although it’s in the 20th arrondissement, it’s actually right next door to the Faubourg Saint Denis area. One moment you’re in Africa land, the next, in Asia.

 

 

right next door to the Asian arrondissement, le 20th

right next door to the Asian arrondissement, le 20th

 

 

 

Part 4: Cafe life

Rue du Faubourg Saint Denis is lined with cafes and shops that reveal the layers of this neighbourhood – Turkish, Armenian, Algerian, Indian and the latest incarnation, bobo.

 

catching up on the news, in whatever language

catching up on the news, in whatever language

 

 

 

from Armenia :: 1

from Armenia

 

 

 

from Armenia :: 2

from Algeria

 

 

 

Chez Jeanette, the coolest cafe on the rue

Chez Jeanette, the coolest cafe on the rue

 

 

 

50 years young

50 years young

 

 

 

pray you don't drink too much at Chez Jeanette's

pray you don't drink too much at Chez Jeanette's

 

 

 

On one of my visits to Chez Jeanette, I met an artist called Laurent and a friend of his. I can’t fully explain what they’re into but it had something to do with starting a revolution and involved eyeglasses with one square and one round. Anyone?

 

revolutionary or just too much caffeine?

Laurent Godard, revolutionary or just too much caffeine?

 

 

 

Laurent's creations

Laurent's creations

 

 

 

delicious shapes

delicious shapes

 

 

And my second to last image, reserved for the friendliest Parisian Coco and I met in the neighbourhood, Sophie. She speaks French with an Indian accent, thanks to spending eight years in India studying graphic design, before hopping on a boat to sail around the world.

 

 

sailor Sophie's swallow

sailor Sophie's swallow

 

 

The Wrap

As someone on rue du Faubourg Saint Denis said, this is a typical Paris neighbourhood. While I don’t know if that’s true or not – there seem to be so many different Paris’s in this intense city – I did enjoy seeing such a mix in such a small area.

And has my experiment worked? Have I become a Paris fan? Too early to tell but I’m warming to the place for sure. And I’m hitting the French dictionary to see if I can come up with a better response to those irritating ‘Non!’s.

 

 

 

R is for reflection

R is for reflection

 

 

On the ‘home front’

My ‘hitting the wall’ last week made me reflect on this project and what it’s all about.

As with my first project, 52 Suburbs in Sydney, you, as in you as well as the collective you, are ever present in my mind. I’m not just saying it. I get excited when I see something interesting and can’t wait to show and tell. But I also feel the pressure to reward you for taking the time to peruse these posts every week with good, strong work.

So, if you feel like it, please spill. Tell me what you like, don’t like or want to see more of. Either here or via an email. Hopefully I can oblige.

Other than that, breaking news on the home front is that I got Coco into a Montessori school here for two days a week. Kid time for her, solo time for me. Things are looking easier already.

This suburb has been brought to you by Guy, Kalinda, April and Gina

I really want to get back to my Friday post days – so hopefully see you at the end of the week.

 

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