Category — Tourist information

In a small, unpretentious theatre near the Bastille  this week, I witnessed one of the most sublime theatrical experiences of my life:  the play Victor Hugo Mon Amour, the story of Juliette Drouet, muse and lover for fifty years of France’s greatest writer, Victor Hugo. All but ignored or forgotten in most official histories, Juliette exchanged with Victor 23,000 letters over their fifty-year love affair, letters which writer and actress Anthea Sogno has mined in order to write this exquisite and historically accurate play. Sogno herself gives a spellbinding and often very funny performance as Drouet.

2012  is a significant year for Hugo enthusiasts, as it is the 150^th anniversary of the publication of Les Miserables, a manuscript that might not have ever been published, had Juliette Drouet not taken care of it during one of Hugo’s several exiles. Sogno’s play, recognised as part of the national Hugo commemorations, and supported by the Maisons de Victor Hugo, has given over 500 performances in 130 French cities, to more than 70,000 viewers.

Bookings can be made online at the Comedie Bastille Theatre.

For those still perfecting their French, I suggest reading the text  first, obtainable from Anthea Sogno’s website. The book itself is a lovely memento of the occasion, especially if you can get it signed by Anthea Sogno, who did just that on the evening that I saw her play.

I’d heard a bit about this scam but had never seen it, nor have I had it done to me. But the other day, while passing the Louvre, I saw a couple a few metres in front of me, with a tall man just to the side of them picking up what looked like a gold ring. ‘Aha,’ I thought, ‘this looks interesting.’ Sure enough, the man offered it to the male of the couple who shook his head, but then the other man sort of pressed it on him (I didn’t really hear their exchanges and in any case I think it was done mostly by mime, since it turned out that the couple didn’t speak much English or French). By this time, I had passed the couple and sure enough they were moving off, with the man holding the ring in his hand and looking rather mystified, with the scammer just behind them.

I asked the couple if they spoke French, but no. English? A little. ‘Don’t take the ring,’ I said. ‘It’s a scam, he’ll ask you for money for it in a minute.’ The couple were looking mystified. Who should they believe? Me, a complete stranger, and an interfering busybody to boot, or the ‘nice’ young man who’d just found a ring on the ground and offered it to them, for luck, since his religion forbade him wearing such things/wasn’t his size, etc etc.?

But upon hearing me telling the couple it was a scam, the ‘nice’ young man yelled at me in loud and very clear if accented English, ‘F@#$ you! F@#$ you!’ Strong evidence that my interpretation had been correct. The young couple hastily gave him back his ring, and scuttled off.

Apparently, what usually happens is that once the ‘target’ has taken possession of the ring and started to move off, the ring-finder then says to them that he’s hungry, could do with a few euros, would like some recompense for giving them something valuable, or some variation on this. I have heard of people parting with as much as 10 euros. There’s some more information on this scam on this Lonely Planet discussion site.

But I don’t like to encourage paranoia, either at home or when travelling, so I hope I haven’t done that. Still, it’s always good not to look touristy, and if this scam does happen to you, it’s probably best that you pretend you don’t understand whichever language the ‘ring-finder’ addresses you in!

En revanche, as the French say, I’ve had countless experiences in France where people have picked up my gloves, scarf, shopping list, magazine, that I have dropped, and returned them to me before I’d even realised I’d dropped them; and I want to stress that this is far more the norm than anything else in France.

After so many visits to Paris during the soldes, I didn’t think I could get very excited about them anymore. But today I discovered that my favourite English bookstore in Paris, The Red Wheelbarrow, at 22 rue Saint Paul, in the 4th arrondissement (phone: 01 48 04 75 08), is having a very serious sale indeed. I’ve always loved visiting this bookshop, as much for the welcoming owner and her staff as for the astute and wide-ranging choice of books.You can read the history of the bookshop here.

It’s also a great excuse to visit the gorgeous Marais area (as if one needs an excuse!), and more specifically the Village Saint Paul, just near the bookshop.

Details of the sale:

25% off all hard-bound non-fiction books

Selected children’s hardbound PICTURE books: 12€

Selected paperbound picture books:10€ plus, buy 2  paperbound children’s picture books on sale, and get a 3rd one free (= 3 paperbound children’s picture books, 20€)

There’s also a big  table in the center of the shop, with every paperbound fiction title on the table only 10 euros (plus, buy 10, get an 11th free = 11 paperbound fiction books for 100 euros)

The shop is open 7 days, 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. except Monday 10-6 p.m. and Sunday noon (or sometimes a little later) to 6 p.m.

A friend from London says she often hears her compatriots complaining (presumably after visiting France), ‘Why can’t France be more capitalist? You have to go to about five different shops to buy your headache tablets, your newspaper, your fish, your groceries, and your bread. It’s so inconvenient.’  The people who say this must be taking as their benchmark a place like Asda, or similar superstores where you can buy absolutely everything in the one shop—food, books and newspapers, pharmaceuticals, clothes, and even furniture and household goods. I did go into one of those places once when there was absolutely no alternative, and it’s not something I want to repeat.

Maybe such places do make a country more ‘capitalist’ which presumably means more profit-oriented. But profit for whom? For the owners or bosses on their obscenely high salaries, and probably also for those gamblers we call ‘shareholders’.

But the sort of capital I am more interested in is ‘social capital’, a concept well known to those such as sociologists and social workers who care more about the quality of the lives of individuals, rather than the quantities of material gain, or profits. Social capital refers to our daily interactions, our conversations, our recognition of each other, if not by name, certainly by face. This starts to happen quite frequently, at least it seems to here in Paris, after only a couple of weeks of buying my daily necessities at the cheese shop, the coffee supplier, the boulangerie, and even in my local restaurant (the wonderful Le Square Trousseau from Paris je t’aime fame), all in my immediate neighbourhood.

Of course, these petits commercants also have to make a profit—their own livelihood depends upon it. But there is something very satisfying, that goes way beyond concepts of profit and loss, about buying my still-warm morning baguette from the people who have been up since before dawn to bake it. Or my coffee from the man who buys the raw beans wholesale and then roasts them in his shop in the rue d’Aligre, only grinding them when I have chosen the particular variety that I like.

The couple who run my favourite vegetable stall in the daily Marche d’Aligre know me as l’Australienne, and the wife likes to practise her English with me, while her husband corrects my French.

Even in my local Franprix supermarket (where I know several of the cashiers by sight, if not by name), a quick chat can start up in the (very frequent) queues. This evening, the woman in the queue behind me said (in French of course), ‘Oh your hair looks so nice and shiny!’ I thanked her for the compliment and explained that I’d just coloured it, as one of my daughters-in-law had brought from England a couple of packets of the type I like, but of which I couldn’t remember the brand. We then moved on to discussing our children’s ages (almost the same!), whether we had grandchildren or not (she does, I don’t), until the queue finally moved, and we bid each other a bonne soirée.

Superstores probably exist on the outskirts of French cities like they do in many other countries, but for people who have a choice about whether or not to use them, I think we need to stop and reflect on what sort of society we want to be part of.  As anyone who reads Wikipedia could tell us, our word society comes from the Latin word societas and before that socius, meaning comrade, friend or ally, and signifying interaction among individuals who are friendly towards one another, who give each other mutual assistance.

There are many things I love about living in the 21^st century, but uber-capitalism at the expense of social capital is not one of them.

I usually write about Paris as if all readers are familiar with it, know where to go, where to stay, have friends to visit who can show them around, and so on.  But what if it’s your first time? If I think back to my first time here, it was spent in great confusion, not really knowing what to see in my very limited few days.

I’ve just done a little research, and I think if you are in this category, and want to see as much as possible of what Paris has to offer, the Paris Pass is ideal for you. With so much included in this pass, you really can’t go wrong. The Paris Pass includes entrance to over 55 top attractions, including Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Musée Louvre.

One of the best features of the  Paris Pass is that you can bypass the entrance queues. Even in winter these can be long at the main attractions, and in summer they can go for half a kilometre or more. A Paris Metro pass is included with the Paris Pass, as well as a map specifically designed for its users. An audio guide explains all the facts surrounding the different places, meaning you have the freedom to go where you choose with the expertise of a virtual tour guide. You really can’t go wrong with the Paris Pass.

First timers to Paris, and indeed anyone who has not seen it before, must go to the Eiffel Tower, and there are some great  Eiffel Tower tours. I think everyone should climb up it at least once in their lifetime. I remember standing on the top level years ago with someone special, thinking (in the words of a famous Australian advertisement—although referring in that case to the Outback): ‘It doesn’t get any better than this.’

The views from each level of the tower are spectacular, and nothing else quite compares. You can also dine in one of the exquisite restaurants, or sip on a French hot chocolate whilst taking in the breathtaking views  As it’s rather cold and foggy here at the moment, the early evening is the best time, when all the lights are coming on.

Whatever your other plans for Paris, first check out the Paris Pass.