where there's wind on a lake

june 20th, 2010

The Reporter left the City of Light for Geneva, to rent a car and drive south into France to... Talloires. Talloires is on the lake of Annecy in Savoie. Savoie is the french area where the Alps are.

Now that we are all organized, let it be said that everything started this morning in Gare de Lyon.




She had her shoes on


The weather was awesome as ever, in fact she had seldom seen such wind before on her childhood lake




This is the little harbor from Talloires. Just so you know, Churchill thought this was the most beautiful bay in the world. Just so you know the Reporter didn't spend her childhood's summer on any bay.





Here is the regular boat stopping at the little dock, so that if you want to go to the large city of Annecy on the big lake, you can hop on and not use a car to drive 8 miles.





There is only one lake but slightly angled in what they call " Le grand lac" which is the large lake and " Le petit lac " which is the small lake. The small lake has way more charm. Talloires is of course on " le petit lac ".







because all readers are tremendously interested, here is the little dock where the Reporter learned at the age of 4 to swim. Shed a tear.








This is the rest of the harbor, note the old abbey turned into a chic hotel, which was way too chic for the Reporter's family to go to for twenty years every July. As an aside, a little part on the side has become a Tufts antenna. Like what's the idea to send students to study in the most beautiful bay of the world. I am asking you.
Behind the abbey you see up on the photo a mountain called " les Dents de Lanfon " or " the Teeth of Lanfon " which the Reporter, at the tender age of 12, climbed. Cause that's already what her grandfather at that age had done. And her older brother, and her older sister. Like perversity in families is not genetic.










Back to the hartbor, the dark house is the Auberge [ Inn ] du Pere Bise [ of the Father Kiss ]. It was so dark, you can click on the photo to see the Inn better. As an aside it is one the three stars restaurants in france. As a child, the Reporter was taken once a summer by her parents to go there for dinner. We would wear white dresses, [ not her brother though ] and ribbons in hair [ again not the brother ] and shiny shoes. We would eat religiously the " Omble Chevalier Meuniere " which is frankly like eating fish in paradise. Children would barely talk. Her dad would talk and tell really witty things, and everybody was petrified to spill something.

Here are pics of the place which is still the same forty years later :









Here is the terrace, usually it is warm and there are pale blue tablecloths on table. And the Reporter's parents in the thirties came paddling in a canoe to have a drink on the terrace one late afternoon, and there was the big steamboat which did the liaison with Annecy, the big city on the big lake, and steamboats make big waves, and the canoe capsized right in front of the terrace and the Reporter's father and mother were all dressed in white linen clothes, and the maitre d' jumped into the water and they came up all wet and everyone on the terrace applauded. There was a paragraph in the Talloires gazette the next day.








And here is the " debarcadere " or the landing where the damn steamboat comes and makes big waves











This is inside the landing and as you see, in Talloires today and yesterday, there was " Fete du Livre " or a Book Feast, which didn't exist when the Reporter was young. Which shows that lots of things can happen forty years later in the most beautiful bay of the world.







And then there is the timetable for the boat,














Then there is the little path, the " Chemin de la Ruaz " to go back to the hotel, and to the tennis
























Then there is the shore
















and the little cabin where you can change, and where they stock the beach mattresses in a cold day of June











And then last but not least, the house next to the hotel beach, is the " Maison Besnard." Mr. Besnard used to be a designer in the thirties, pretty well known, and did lots of props for the french cinema. The house is the most strange house on the lake. It has practically no windows on the lake side, but has a huge fresco that he himself painted...

He was a pretty awesome and original character. I remember being about 6 years old and going to this huge house with my parents for a drink in late afternoon. Mr. Besnard was very kind but his voice was as cavernous as his house.
The grown-ups would drink Lillet.








and here, behind the wall, is the house which now looks even more romantic since it is a little dilapidated








So this is a little of Talloires. Tonight there was a little dinner at l'Abbaye with friends that the Reporter used to have fun with forty years ago, and are the same giggling girls. There were some professors too as tomorrow, there is a lecture at the Tufts branch about Taine, a french philosopher. So, as with philosophers, there was lots of talks and lots of laughs, since there was a little wine. Now it's high time to let the lake sleep.

With love from Talloires,
Your Reporter

Where the June weather doesn't satisfy everyone

June 18th, 2010


Well dear readers,

Paris is lovely but for once Parisians were a little grumpy. It is often heard in the streets, " Ah quel mois de Juin pourri ! " which one could translate in a distinguished manner, " what a putrefied month of June ! " but which we should translate in a more pedestrian fashion as " What a rotten month of June." French have sometimes a pretty aggressive way to qualify their weather.

And fair to say, the temperature while it was raining yesterday was close to what you see in November, but as old and wise street french people say " Ah ma bonne dame, y a plus de saison ! " which one could roughly translate by " Ah m' good lady, there ain't any more season like it used to. "

So this was the weather like yesterday :

note this chic wall shelters a supermarket, like this ain't Vons, m'good lady,





note also that at the cafe outside while it is raining, the usual attire for drinking coffee and reading the paper, is a straw hat,




So, the Reporter ambling courageously under the rain along the Rue du Bac [ Ferry Street ] met the new branch of Monoprix, So Monoprix is like Vons, Ralph's so the reader will note what a Vons looks like in Paris Rue du Ferry,



Just sayin'.






Then a few more cheap buildings, seen from the street,


So continuing fearlessly Quai Voltaire the Reporter went to her fav store : Sennelier, the art store where you find every tube, turpentines and other delicious things and on the door it said :


it said " 20% sur toute la gamme Isabey " Which means nothing to you chic readers, but that would be in english " 20 % discount on the whole range of Isabey brushes " and Isabey brushes to a painter are like Vuitton to someone a little versed into the garment things. It's not Lanvin, but it's pretty good. And 20% was like " Night Music" to the ears of our cheap Reporter. So she went in to get some thinner and some medium. No brushes, because in fact, the Reporter likes the Lanvin style.

Then she went out and there she met a lovely old lady who was probably saying, " Ah Jeune Homme, ca n'est pas un vrai mois de Juin" which of course is : " Ah Young Man, this is not a real month of June " No ain't for this distinguished little parisian woman.







Then the Reporter walked past Les Beaux Arts, the Art school to where her parents wanted her so much to go. But she didn't.





Yes, the Les Beaux Arts buildings were a little too pedestrian for our chic Reporter.












So she went on, passed the lovely rue Visconti,







then arrived at the place that has her Tall daughter snark about since now she makes them as well, if not better,




and frankly Tall is right, that yellow is so obnoxious.











Then late at night, the Reporter met with Dear Hubby, her most delightful friend, Andre, and we had dinner with Andre, at Georges on top of the Pompidou Center, with a magnificent view. We have no pics of this as Andre is a very chic and private person, and persona grata.


Then on today, June 18th, which is a historical day, the Reporter's devoted Dear Hubby decided to go get some shoes as to replace some of his very antique ones, so we went to a little distinguished shop, and checked out the different colored shoe laces.



but Dear Hubby was not too much that day of the adventurous kind, though a little bit to the disappointment of the Reporter, and we ambled out.

Then after a stop at the cheap Vons:


we went to languidly walk through the awesome Deyrolle, http://www.deyrolle.com/magazine/ and Dear Hubby had never seen it so he was in for a treat...
Now Deyrolle has been in existence since 1832, and probably is the only taxidermist left in Paris. It is Rue du Bac too.
Then on February 1st, 2008, it burnt... the whole collection of animals was destroyed as well as the workshop where the taxidermists worked, and some of the wonderful 18th century wood panels which decorated the first and second floor. Paris was stunned. So everyone got on board, collectors, lovers of Deyrolle, publishers, and about 80 works of art were donated for an auction that Christie's did at the Musee de la Chasse. Along with other donations, Deyrolles managed to be rebuilt and reopened in 2009.

If you go to Paris, do not skip this, just walk up the little stairs to discover these extraordinary rooms...








If you click on the pic below, you will see it says : " MATERIEL D"ENSEIGNEMENT, INSTRUMENTS pour les SCIENCES NATURELLE" and there is a nice hand pointing since in france it is not rude to point.
It means of course, Equipment for teaching, Instruments for Natural Sciences. So there.








We left after spending nearly one hour there, fingering books and checking out little birds skeletons, we had a pretty awesome time.

To the acute demand of readers, the Reporter would like to reassess some superficial elements, indeed the socks are still there [ rotten month of June ] as can testify this view of the Nespresso store today at 4:28 pm :




With love, from a very froggish weathered Paris,

the Reporter

first day in paris

june 15th, 2010


So our favorite reporter arrived in paris this morning.

You will be happy to know that there were some low clouds above this magnificent city



and it was mighty windy when that air france plane landed. It had one excellent effect though, that nice little hop scotch landing. Suddenly the little outlet where our reporter and her traveling neighbor had tried desperately to plug their respective lap top stopped showing a green light, which was a good sign, as it will be seen later.

That made the reporter and her neighbor really happy to be able to plug their computer till we got to the gate, and what is more
it is ' interdit ' [ forbidden ] to use " un objet electronique ' [ an electronic device ] before landing, during landing and after landing when you tag to the gate.

It's not that the outlet was not working. Air France has chosen to install a plug-in device which has a small green light [ current is flowing ] but when you first look at it, it looks like it is closed, the little holes have white showing in, like there is an inside door behind [ there is ]

So what you have to do is push masterly a french plug in, and then [ there are arrows painted on the circumference ] you have to perversely twist it [ to the right ] so suddenly the sesame white door will open and you can really push in your french adaptor plug.

So we did that [ several times at the beginning of the flight ] but then when the french plug was twisted and inside, the green light would flicker off, and if we plugged then our US plug in our special french adaptor plug and then plugged the rest of the cable to our lap top, most evidently, did you guess ? There was no green light on the sesame plug and there was no current flowing to our lap top.

But the reporter and her neighbor were very flexible and obstinate travelers, and they discreetly tried and retried.



Then in a very respectful voice, they called the flight attendant and appraised her of the problem.
She didn't seem too surprised that such a weird issue could exist. So she said she was going to go and switch off the current in our two seats, and for a few minutes we wouldn't be able to manipulate the diverse exciting positions of our seat [ back rest, feet rest, ] She was obviously distressed to have to tell us that, which made the reporter think that travelers are very possessive of their moving seats.

When she came back, after this delicate on and off electrical maneuver, the little green light was still on the plug, we did all the twisting and pushing very obediently but alas, the light went off then. There was no way that we would charge our cute lap tops.




So our lovely flight attendant was very distressed and sad, but said there was not much hope now.
I don't think she was thinking much of that boeing 777. " Give me an A 380" ,


you could hear the scream from the back of her sinking shoulders, as she receded sadly towards the galley.

So we thanked her happily, and my neighbor who really had planned to work on a complex system of slides for a presentation, till dawn hours, sighed and said that at least he would get more sleep than he thought he would. [ He didn't, because when he got tired, he started to watch movies on that really bad personal graphed air france little screen. And when you start to watch a movie when you are tired on a long flight, you end by watching a good handful of them. Usually in descending quality too. He did just that. ]

He was a very nice young man, living in San Diego, born in france, and of the very studious kind.

And that is when a miracle happened. He reclined his seat in a very emphatic way and suddenly the green light went off !
Without ANYTHING plugged in !

So we dived into our bags and got our plugs and cables, seized by the same genius idea ! And YES ! We plugged in, psuhed in, twisted and pushed more, and... the light went green !!

How could we not have thought before ! These plugs were made for reclining-lap-top-workers !!!!!

Well then there was just a little problem though. If my neighbor plugged in, my light would come green before I myself
plugged in. So there was only one solution : my neighbor would work and charge first, and I would charge second.

That is when we realized that the plugs were made for alternate-reclining-lap-top-workers !!

We were mighty proud to have solved that little problem just by ourselves.

So then we landed in Paris, and everything was normal again.


There was no carrousel indication where the luggage would be delivered. [ For the first time in 28 years, our courageous reporter had checked in her luggage as she had some vague painting equipment for her painting seminar, like tubes, brushes, liquids, portable easel and portable seat ]

And once in Paris, we crossed a line of security trucks, Brinks type, and they stopped just at our level and from the last one which was a jeep with police, a black dressed gentleman hopped out with a aka gun, and my taxi driver got in gear and left the scene, and that type of reaction leaves any reporter a little miffed. So there, when she could have at last reported something bloody.

Three blocks later, we met the Tuesday strike, with lots of people, but they were very orderly and looked a little bored.
They were marching but didn't have any cute banner so I can't tell you what they were marching about.

So it was good to see Paris with its usual serene beauty.

With lots of affection from the City of Love,

The Reporter

nearly last day in paris: rainy

may 1st, 2010

So this was the day before the last day of the favorite reporter.

So she went to say goodbye to la rue de Beaune where there was some nice architectural digs, and a great bakery:



then it started to rain. So she decided to go the art store, Sennelier to get brushes, and... lo and behold, this was May 1st, " la fete du travail," "the feast of work", so of course in france everything is closed.

So the reporter cried.

Then she went across the river,

to the american book store, Calignani, but they were observing the same point of view on work and Calignani was closed too. So she cried again.


So she tried to get into Angelina, which is right next door, the elite pastry shop, to get a cup of tea, and it was full with a large line, since everything else was closed in paris,
so she cried a third time. That was a really wet day.

Very preppy bikers stopped for a bite but they were repelled by the long line, so the reporter felt better and cried a little less

Then while deciding, with her friends where to go get tea or champagne, which always takes a long time with french friends,
the reporter checked how all their shoes looked on the rue de Rivoli floor,


and she found that her shoes still looked pretty good


So she completely stopped crying, and that was like the end of the afternoon, and they all went then to have tea and champagne,
and then the reporter cried more since that was like nearly her last day.

With all farewell and love
from the little city on the Seine,
the frog