From Obamaville (Paris)

 What's up in Paris?

            Well, in one word: OBAMA!

            You would think that the French had elected him. He has pushed Sarkozy and the beautiful Carla right off the front pages and covers of the newspapers and newsmagazines. Everywhere you go there seems to be a newspaper kiosk with his smiling face all over it.

            And from what we can see from the local TV it seems to be pretty much the same all over Europe.

            To give you an idea of how far things had gone, the Mayor of Paris sponsored a special TV presentation of the inauguration in the Hotel de Ville (the city hall) with beautiful printed invitations sent to supposedly 1,300 people.  We were lucky enough to get one, but then we were advised by an e-mail that in typically French fashion things have gotten a bit out of hand and God knows how many are going to show up, so we decided to give it a pass. Later in talking to people who did go we heard that it was a great success.

            But that is not the point of the story, which is: Can you imagine the Mayor of New York or Chicago or wherever holding a massive public celebration of the inauguration of a French president or even an English Prime Minister? I don't remember this much fuss when they elected Sarkozy.

            We were going to watch the inauguration with friends on a barge that was equipped with a huge television screen.  But at the last moment Suzanne felt that the event had such great meaning for her that she preferred to watch it in the quiet of our own boat and besides she couldn't stop weeping.

            The next morning a friend who was at that viewing sent Suzanne an e-mail commenting that for the first time in a long time she wanted to go back to America.

            We'd like to share with you Suzanne's reply to that e-mail:

            "Oh Sudi, not five minutes before I opened your message I said to Jerry that, for the first time since we left, I am feeling that I will look forward to going home, that I want to be part of the spirit and part of the work, even if an ever so small part.  I suddenly realized just how alienated and lonely and angry I have felt these last eight years and how glad I was to get away from it.  So it is comforting to read your similar thoughts.

            "Also, I must admit that my decision to watch the events here had something to do with the fact that I am a little sensitive about people assuming that the overwhelming significance of this event for me is about race.  It isn't.  That's part of it, of course, an important part of it, but the overwhelming sensation has to do with values and character and goals; that people who share these values are taking over the leadership of my country and that these values are embodied in the character, the intelligence, the courage, the classiness, the wisdom and knowledge, the commitment and the energy of this extraordinary young man. What brings the tears is feeling that I belong again, that I share the same longings and deeply felt concerns and goals with so many others in our country and that we have awakened to take up the work together. It's the freedom from the painfulness of isolation that brings the tears."

            And then to give physical expression to this emotion we took our large American flag from out of storage under the bed and proudly mounted it on the stern of the barge!

            That night we celebrated the inauguration in high style.  During the course of  our involvement with the Democrats Abroad and the Obama campaign we had come to meeting many American residents of Paris.  So, one of them decided to celebrate with a black tie dinner for 40 at a most elegant city club in the heart of Paris…and even though we didn't have formal wear (who packs a tuxedo on a barge?) we went right along. Wonderful food, great wine and everybody in high spirits.     

            So, what else is new?  Well a few key words are: snow, ice, cold and boxers.

            Yes it got cold here in Paris for a few days.  The normal winter is about 35 to 45 degrees with lots of gray sky with lots of drizzle.  But a couple of weeks ago we had a snow that lasted on the ground for a week because the temperatures went below freezing for an entire week.  The canal right outside our window froze over with a thin layer of ice and the tour boats that go by here (even in the winter) went crunching through like ice-breakers.  And what was worse is that the fresh water lines that supply the barges froze up.  By a stroke of luck we had topped up our water tanks the day before the lines froze.

            Actually, most of the time it is warmer here in Paris than, say, New York or even East Haddam…but one of the differences is that in Connecticut when it gets cold you just have to walk to the car, but Paris involves a lot of walking.  Couple that with a normal gray sky and lots of cold drizzle. "Oh, what is so rare as a day of sunshine in Paris in the winter."

            But we do bundle up and get around. Besides gym, yoga, French lessons, and boat maintenance there is still time to take in some of the things that make Paris special.  Like, in the company of a very charming and knowledgeable guide  we had a tour of the fabulous tapestries at the Louvre…they are something.  Commissioned by Louis  XIV they are fourteen huge tapestries on a hunting theme that had seldom been exhibited all in one place until the Louvre created a special room for them. Fabulous workmanship!

            And then the next day the same guide took us on a behind the scenes tour of the Opera Garnier, the spectacular opera building (and setting for Phantom of the Opera) in the heart of Paris.

            Of course there is the usual great opera and ballet season, but a special treat was the "reincarnation" of Edith Piaf.  In a circular building, used normally for a winter circus, there was performance with a cast of 20 of the "life" of Edith Piaf. For those who don't know, she was a charismatic singer who became the "soul" of Paris. In this production there was a young woman who was Piaf.  She had the voice, the posture, the gestures and the appearance of  Piaf.  It was absolutely uncanny. A bravura performance.

            Oh yes, the Boxers: We went to the  big Paris Dog Show (and to show you how much the English language is taking over…that is the official name of the show, not something  Frenchy like "Concourse des Chiens de Paris.") But that's not where this story is going.  At the show Suzanne got chatting with the Boxer -people.  We commented that Luca looked quite different than their top dogs.  We showed a picture of Luca at one of his competitions…and they were most interested.  The upshot is that the  next weekend we were invited to a meeting the Ile de France Boxer Club..and to be sure and bring Luca.  So the following Sunday we drove out to a suburb somewhere south of Versailles and met with thirty boxer lovers.

            Luca was the only dog there and the hit of the meeting. One of the top dog show judges was there to give a talk. And then he lifted Luca onto the table and discussed the differences between the European and American judging standards. His judgment was the Luca could not be judged favorably because his neck was too long and graceful, his chest too pronounced and his head too fine…but the back end of him would pass muster in Europe.  All in all, an interesting day and a great chance to spend a day with the French people as they are in France…which means that the meeting ended with champagne and cakes.

The War Zone

            Such horrible things in such a beautiful setting.

            The Nazis chose to put the  only concentration camp they were to build in France  at an old ski resort high up in the Vosges mountains. Today, set in the beautiful pine forest with a superb vista of the  blue-green mountains, there is a "monument" to man's capability to be inhumane.

            At  the old concentration camp of Le Struthof we found the  barbed wire, the guard towers, two of the old  barrack buildings, and the gas chamber and crematorium. The visitor center had very graphic displays of the terrible nature of the Holocaust.  But as chilling as the graphic displays were the most awesome part of the visit is to stand there in the remains of the camp and imagine  the life and death of the unfortunate inmates.

            The prisoners, Jews and gentiles alike, were from virtually every country of Europe, including a goodly number of  Germans who were classed as politically undesirable. Le Struthof was not primarily an "extermination" camp like Auschwitz.  It was a labor camp where the prisoners worked in a nearby quarry.  But life was so cheap, for out of some 50,000 prisoners who passed through Le Struthof 20,000 died there.. Mostly the detainees were starved to death and worked to death. And when they died the easiest way to dispose of them was cremation and the ashes were just dumped in a ditch. However, with German prisoners who died the SS developed a grisly  sideline business of  offering to send an urn of the ashes of their "loved one" to grieving relatives, for a modest 60 Reichmarks.

            We had driven up to Le Struthof from Nancy (more about Nancy later).  Since leaving the Champagne district  we had been cruising in Alsace-Lorrain and the Ardennes, which I label "The War Zone".  Ever since France had become a country and maybe even back to Charlemagne, this was the frontier and invasion  route.  Everywhere there are reminders of past battles and fortresses.

            There is the fortress city of Sedan, where in 1870 the Prussians defeated the French, thus toppling the Second Empire and creating the German Empire, not to mention the seizure of Alsace and Lorraine.

            A little way down  you come to Verdun, scene  of  an eight month battle in 1916, which resulted in the death of 800,000 men (both French and German).  Our cruise took us right through one of the key battle areas. At Verdun we attended an open-air light and sound show (with a cast of 300) about the battle.  It was presented in an abandonned quarry that eirily looked like a battleground.  Very frightening.

            And close by  you come to Saint Mihel where in 1918 the Americans fought the bloody battle of the Meuse-Ardennes.

            Town after town are noted to have been completely rebuilt after some war or other. 

            Old fortresses abound, including those built by Louis XIV's engineer: Vauban…most of the old city of Toul sits inside one of Vauban' forts.

            We even cruised right past one of the gun emplacements of the  old Maginot line. And cruising into Bar le Duc we passed a military cemetery overlooking the canal where they coped with the enormous numbers of the dead from nearby Verdun buy interring them two to a grave...each grave had two crosses. 

            But it wasn't a completely bitter-sweet tour. The scenery was lovely.  As a matter fact the upper valley of the Meuse reminded us very much of the Connecticut River in Vermont. But since we had seen enough of  Vermont we cut short our planned voyage to Namur in Belgium and turned back toward Nancy,which had always been planned as our "turn around" point.

            Nancy, the premier city of Lorraine was certainly a worthwhile destination.

            Over the centuries the province of  Lorrain had been traded back and forth, but the  most significant recent trade came in the 18th century when Louis XV  gave Lorraine to his father-in-law Stanislas Leaesczynski,, the deposed king of Poland.  The significance was that Stanislas, being a peaceful man, devoted himself to making his capital  city of Nancy  into a symbol of 18th century charm and elegance.

            Thus Nancy now has perhaps the most spectacular  public space in Europe: Place Stanislas.  It is an enormous  open square framed with perfectly proportioned

public buildings, which include the city hall, the opera house, a hotel (named, of course, Le Grand),  a museum  and several delightful open air restaurants. ( Look at the photos and contrast the two gates shown.) Putting the square  to good use every night during the summer at 10:45 there is a wildly imaginative light and sound  show projected onto the façade of the town hall.

            The Place is not the city's only claim to "artistic" fame, since Nancy is the birthplace of the  Art Nouveau movement, which enchanted the world of decorative arts at the turn of the 20th century.  The Beaux Arts museum is a knock-out ,not only for the works inside, but also for the building itself.  And then there is the Musee de l' Ecole de Nancy, which is a "private" mansion filled with the wonderful creative furniture and other works of Emil Galle and Louis Majorelle.  But not all of the Art Nouveau works are in the museums., walking along the streets you see  art nouveau architecture…one after another.

We enjoyed Nancy so much that we stayed  longer than we expected (19 days) and now finally we are on the move back to Paris, which should take about a leisurely month or so.

            We've again been given a winter mooring in Paris…how can we pass that up…so we are going to spend another winter in Gay Paree.  However, except for a brief  visit or two we been in France since March, a year ago, so it is about time that we take a little vacation from France and come back home.  We'll return on October 15, giving us a chance to get in our vote for Obama, and have a Thanksgiving at home , and return to France on December 5 for the "season" in Paris and more cruising next spring..

Sunday, June 22, 2008

The Ardennes

            Some might say it was just a lunch stop, which it was…but in reality it was the quintessential  French canal barging experience. 

            We hadn't really planned on it. On Saturday we had exhausted ourselves with a long seven hour day and numerous locks.  So, on Sunday we were hoping to take it easy, but the problem was that ahead of us there was flight of 27 locks up the hills of the Ardennes.  What we mean by a flight of locks is that they were more or less a chain, with each lock being only about 500 or 1000 yards apart and you pass directly from one to the next.  And of course they are the classic French canal lock dimension, which means an opening in the concrete that is just 5.2 meters wide (LaLavande is 4.9 meters wide, so you see the problem).

            Starting at 8 we  arrived at lock 20 (starting from lock 27) at 11 a.m….a distance of  about 4.5 kilometers.  There was a great mooring spot there and on the other side of the canal was a small restaurant in an ancient mill building. 

            We had been more or less steaming in convoy with our new French friends, Francois and Jo, on Little Nemo and they also agreed that a 3 hour day was quite enough, so they pulled over and together we decided to lunch at the  Restaurant Sans Souci.

            As we crossed the bridge over the canal it suddenly hit me that this is the  experience you hope for when you set out on the canals.

            The sun had finally come out (we have had only about five days of sunshine since leaving Paris). The air was still.  The only sound  was the chirping of birds and an occasional lowing of cows in a nearby field.  The rolling meadows were multi shades of green, bordered by dark trees.  The  orange roofs and dun stones of the buildings of the little commune bordering the canal could only be "rural" France.

            The restaurant was pleasant surprise.  Being deep in rural Francde we didn't expect too much from the chef…but his home-made fois gras and intelligent  presentation made it a memorable repast, all served by a charming and talkative midddle-aged waiter with as great smile and bad teeth.

            There we were on this balcony overlooking the canal, lolling over a three hour lunch, lubricated with two bottles of bourdeaux.  And then the lone accordion from the other room began playing the traditional French songs….Mademoiselle de Paris, La Vie en Rose, and the other "old timers" (provided you count the  Beer Barrel Polka as a French  old timer).  It was a movie scene, or at least a Renoir painting.

            Jo and Francois were perfect company for this perfect French country dimanche dejeuner with laugh filled conversation, mostly in French, but with a word or two in English for the dummy in the crowd.

            And now to put a period to the scene, across the canal, as I write this,  alongside of the road four men have started the traditional Petanque game (Petanque is a bowling game similar to the Italian bocce).

            How much more French can it get??

            Now to briefly fill you in on the other events since the last blog entry when we had left you with the Monet and Renoir heritage.  This whole valley was what you might call the Impressionists Alley.  We came to Pontoise, which was Pissarro's "town." This was followed closely by Auvers, which really  goes overboard for the memory of Vincent Van Gogh, who spent the last 70 days of his life there (at the suggestion of Pissarro) and during those 70 days in a fit of manic activity he produced 70 works (among them some of his best) and then shot himself.  We dined in the tavern where Van Gogh had the attic room and the bistro has been recreated exactly it had been.

            Up the  canal we discovered Compiegne  where  Napoleon I and III had built a enormous chateau,  which right now is somewhat off the normal tourist track. That is a fate it does not deserve.

            Down the road from there is an equally fabulous chateau, Pierrefonds, which  is a  fantasy recreation by Violet le Duc  (it would take too long to explain who he was).  We tried to make it by bike through the Compiegne Forest and belatedly realized it was more than 15 kilometers away and these old legs just weren't up to that much pedaling.  But in the short time in Compiegne Suzanne had made friends with Jean Pierre  an elderly gentlemen, who was quite a character and  who offered to  drive us out to Pierrefonds and give us a private guided tour, which was enlivened by the fact that a British film company was on the scene using the castle for  a medieval  epic.

            After that came Soissons, a small city that was 80 per cent destroyed in World War I…the awful memories of that war pervade the city.

            And now it is on with the canals to the Meuse River, where we will turn north for a jaunt up to Namur in Belgium.

            Stay turned.

Life in The Slow Lane!!

How fast do you go on with LaLavande?

Well, take this for example:

Monday at the crack of 8:30 (As opposed to the Crack of 10) we exit the lock at Arsenal in Paris and go on to the Seine.

We motor downstream for 6 hours (at a speed of about 8 kilometers per hour) and arrive at Rueil-Malmaison, which puts us 45 kilometrs on the river, but since the Seine winds around we are only 9 miles from the heart of Paris.

We stop here because Malmaison is where  Josephine's (you remember her, don't you…Bonaparte's empress) chateau is.

Great mooring, with a long solid pontoon along the river…and as we look out the window we are staring at Maison Fournaise, the restaurant  where the Impressionists hung out and which Renoir immortalized with his famous "Le Dejeuner des Canotiers". (Google that).

So, what's the rush…it's cool and drizzling on Tuesday so we'll just sit here and unwind from Paris. And at night we  tramped 20 blocks in the mist  to the movie to see the Indian Jones picture in version Francaise. (Did you ever realize that  Harrison Ford spoke such wonderful French…but in a movie like that, who needed the dialogue?)

Wednesday we planned to have lunch at Fournaise and then bike out to the chateau, but the  weather turned splendid…so we just had a long, long lunch at Fournaise (with a  bottle of a white Bourdeau) on the balcony overlooking the river and said maybe we'll take in the chateau on Thursday.  What the Hell…where are we rushing to??

Since we were in Malmaison it was only fitting that we visit Josephine's maison.  So, on Thursday after a leisurely lunch we unlimbered the bikes and rode out there…only 20 minutes away.  And that pretty well killed all day Thursday.

Maybe Friday we'll get moving again.

All, well and good…so, what went on in Paris all winter?

The operative word is "busy". There is so much going on that we feel like slackers for not taking it all in. So, here are  just a few of the highlights ( If any of them interest you let us know and we can amplify):

• Getting involved with the Democrats Abroad (who have delegates at the convention) and meeting with the  Democrat "upper crust" of Paris at  Obama fund raisers
• In the first row of a Jessye Norman concert…wow!!
• Showing Paris to Suzanne's" niece", Anne Marie,..who had never been out of the country before.
• Having Josh and Jake with us for a New Year's  Eve dinner at a local petit bistro (after which the two guys went out on a pub crawl that lasted until 7:30 a.m.)
• Taking Josh and Jake to lunch at Taillevent for a taste of three star living .
• Passes to the Louvre which got us in by private entrance past the crowds and let us enjoy many hours there.
• The adventure of taking Luca on his first Metro ride. Before going Suzanne asked if it was Ok to take dogs on the Metro and got the  typical French answer,"C'est interdit, mais tolere". He was right a home…sleeping most of the way when not kissing other passengers.
• Going to some of the big "trade" fairs at the expositions halls…like 1,000 independent wine makers in one building…like the  tri-annual International Bread maker's fair (now there's where you get good baguettes)….a "home furnishing type of fair that has been going on for 140 years.
• And then there were trips back across the Atlantic…Jerry in January for tax work…Suzanne to Mexico in February for Josh's 40th…Suzanne to Washington in June for a meeting of the Bonobo Conservation Initiative..
• And finally in May we decided to see if the boat would still move, so , in company with our guests, Maeve and Richard and with Bill and Nancy Koenig we went through the tunnel up the Canal St. Martin.  But that is best illustrated with wonderful video (complete with music) that Nancy created. It give you a taste of moving 50 tonnes of steel through a very spooky tunnel and then through the streets of Paris.  So, check it out on Nancy's web site: http://livingonabargeinparis.blogspot.com  And you'll find the video at the May 11 entry.

And now, quo vadis?  When we manage to tear ourselves away from Malmaison we head down the Seine, then up the Oise and then up the Aisne and onto the canals in the Ardennes and down to Nancy.  Where we go form there…we don't know. The port hasn't  told us yet whether we will have a berth in Paris next winter, so we have to play it  loose.

Stay tuned…someday we may put the pedal to the metal and go full steam ahead and get somewhere…but there are some interesting things ahead of us that may slow us down…like up ahead is Pissaro's town and after that VanGogh's last town…so, we'll see.

Jerry and Suzanne

Let me start off with a mea culpa for not blogging since September…but the problem is that we have been swallowed up by Paris.

            When we last left you we were pulling into our winter mooring spot in the basin of Arsenal at the foot of Place Bastille. We had expected Paris to be something special, but it turned out to be more than that.  I guess that living way out in the country in Connecticut and then lolling around the canals in rural France had lulled us. We had forgotten what   living in the middle of a big city had to offer….which mainly is a bewildering choice of experiences waiting to be chanced upon.

            Let me first locate us for those of you not familiar with Paris.  Go to Google Earth and when you get Paris on the screen put the pointer on 48 degrees 51'01.55 N and  2 degrees 22'04.41 E.  These Google pictures were taken in the summer, so where you see a smallish motor boat (with a blue dinghy at the stern) that is where we are right now.

            As you can see, when we go to an opera or ballet at the Bastille Opera all we have to do is walk up the ramp to street level and there is the theatre.  Also right there is our Metro station, where we can hop on a train and eight stops later be at Opera Garnier (the grand, old opera building).  With our monthly passes we've become devotees of the Paris Metro and Bus system and by no means do we miss our car (which we garaged for the winter back in Roanne).

            Ah, Place Bastille…ten streets feed into the place and  if you want real excitement take your bicycle and thread your way through the traffic during rush hours…that gets your adrenalin going and gives a new meaning to the word Rush.

            Directly across the Place from our mooring is where they have an  open-air street market on Thursday and Sunday. There are about 70 street "marches" in Paris and this one at Bastille is just about the biggest.  With three "alleys", lined both sides with booths, it stretches for more than four city blocks…offering a cornucopia of fresh sea food, meats, poultry, vegetables, fruits , breads, and  spices….and the jostling crowds and shouting vendors provide an  atmosphere far removed from your antiseptic supermarkets.

            Well, let's not make this into a travelogue about Paris…there are miles of bookshelves lined with guides to Paris, and the world doesn't need another one from me.  So, let's talk about how we spend our days.

            Cruising all summer on the canals is really not a terribly strenuous  activity (except for Suzanne's exertions when we go in and out of the locks) so when we got to Paris we resolved to seriously get ourselves back in shape. So, three mornings a week, first thing, we start off with long work-outs at the Club Med gym that we have joined.

            The next serious activity is the study of French.  Both of us are taking private lessons on board from a charming young professional language instructor, who loads us both with serious homework.  Suzanne, already quite fluent in French, is working her way into the depths of French verbs and poor Jerry is mumbling his way through some pretty elementary stuff, but making a bit of progress.  Suzanne also has a wonderful weekly conversation (rather advanced)  group, half the participants are English speakers and half are French…so they split the time using and learning the two languages

            Jerry has gotten back to painting and it is breathtaking.  His "instructor" is a young, struggling artist who teaches in his "atelier", which is his one room apartment up under the "roofs of Paris."  It may sound a bit "romantic" but it is the walk up the five floors of winding stairway that takes one's breath away. (Ha, so much for the gym getting him in shape!)

             On top of that there is just the fun of being here. What a sheer pleasure to round a corner somewhere and come face to face vistas of the Paris of picture books.  Or what about the plethora of museums (Pariscope, the weekly magazine of happenings in Paris, lists 89 museums and 12 pages of "expositions" of various kinds).  Of course there are also the restaurants, ranging from the corner bistros to the three-star "Grands". Not to mention the pleasure of our continual string of guests (it is amazing how many people are just "passing through Paris" and drop in).

            Now, a small sample of some  highlights:

              Lunch, with Jerry's sister, Lee, at Tour d' Argent (a  "Grand" restaurant that may be considered "touristy", but nevertheless  a spectacular settings for a fine meal);  an excellent performance of "Tosca" at Operas Bastille and an equally fine  "Alcina" at the Opera Garnier;  the collections of arts of  Oceania, Africa, Asia and the Americas at the superb new Musee du Quai Branly, to which we now have an annual pass;  a great exhibition of the paintings of Chaim Soutine: and of course, our traditional dinner at Taillevent, which we consider the best restaurant in the world!

             All in all, there is so much here to attract us that it seems like we never have enough time…we wonder how we are  going to do it all!  I guess we'll just have to  get busy (or busier).

            And so, as we come to the end of an eventful year let us wish you all a very happy holiday season….we'll be back blogging in the spring when we  leave Paris for new adventures on the canals and rivers.

Paris, at last!!   

             With our friend Sani on board we made quick passage down the Marne to its confluence with the Seine and that's where Paris begins.  To tell you of our entry into the City of Light this issue of the blog is being turned over to our guest editor, Suzanne.

      Our entry into the Paris, with Sani Wolf Fogel, my long time friend and college roommate, aboard, was just as thrilling as I had hoped and imagined it might be.  Cruising down the Seine, under all the bridges, past Notre Dame and the Mitterand Library and the Louvre, the Orsay Museum, past the bookstalls, around the little island with the replica of the Statue of Liberty, we slipped into our mooring space at Quai de Grenelle, on the Seine, about two blocks from the Eiffel Tower.  There it is, all lit up at night (every hour at night, it sparkles for 10 minutes or so) right in front of La Lavande.

            Of course our entry had it's hairy moments on the busy Seine, waiting for the red light to change to green so we could proceed, turning this monster of a boat in circles for forty minutes while huge loaded commercial barges churned by and one Bateau Mouche after another rocked past.  But we were delighted with ourselves for managing it all and toasted our arrival with a bit of the champagne we had laid in at Epernay. Jerry's boat handling, tested by this Paris entry, has moved up several notches. He is really very expert now.   We are indeed, very fortunate and I am grateful for every day of this little adventure that we've embarked upon.

    The next highlight was the brand new Museum of the Quai Branly with the most extensive and stunning collection of art and artifacts from Africa, Asia, Oceania and the Americas.  With 3,500 works on permanent display (out of a collection of 300,000) it must be the most outstanding collection in the world. Then there is the design of the building itself which is truly magical. 

            One whole exterior wall, at least six stories high and a block long, is a true vertical garden every inch of which is encrusted with thick, lush vegetation, including protruding masses of mosses and ferns, and vigorous woodland and shade plants.  Then, still on the exterior, one walks past a long, tall glass wall behind which are hillocks of more wild-looking massed greenery, tall grasses, small trees and shrubs and the occasional shot of color, a single red poppy plant, for example, or a single oak leaf hydrangea with blossoms drying in fall tones of red and rust.   The museum building itself if more or less hidden but a path to the entrance winds through this maze of vegetation and brings one, in a state of wonder, to the entrance and the ticket booths.  I was already in a zone before I ever set foot in the building. 

    The interior is just as impressive.  The entrance lobby circles a central glass tower that soars to the top of the building and displays a collection of 8,000 musical instruments. The collection itself is overwhelming.  In addition to all of the art and artifacts, there are frequent stops for excellent explanatory material and filmed interviews with individual tribal members or ceremonies or excellent film essays on all manner of subjects related to the items in the collection or the tribes and cultures being explored. In over two hours I only got through most of the section on Oceania although Jerry chose to survey the whole collection more quickly with the idea that we have all winter to return and savor these treasures at our leisure.  What a luxurious thought!  

    Mesmerized, we retreated to the sunshine of terrace of the little cafe to enjoy ice cream and a cup of espresso.  Some nights later, with Jerry's sister, Teddy, and her husband,   we dined at the upscale restaurant on the very top of the museum.  It's called "L'Ombre", the shadow, because it is in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower which sparkled, on the hour, throughout our excellent and very inventive, dinner.  .  Of course, all this was within a couple of blocks of where we were moored.  Now can you beat that? 

    We spent about ten days or so on this trip into Paris moored, as I said, on the Seine at the Quai de Grenelle.  Teddy and Whit arrived and after they had visited Versailles and the Orsay Museum, we pried ourselves off the Quai Grenelle and started up the Seine.  There was an unusually long day of cruising to the town of Melun where we spent two days. Teddy and Whit had a wonderful visit to the chateau of Vaux le Vicomte.  Jerry had a rare day of relative relaxation, and I found an African barber to cut my hair. 

             Next day we continued further up the Seine, past some rather luxurious riverfront homes and huge live aboard barges. We are now moored in the charming medieval town of Moret-sur-Loing, with its remaining medieval city gates and walls and the home of the impressionist painter, Alfred Sisley.  Last night we had a most inventive and excellent dinner in a small, modest but very sweetly decorated hotel in town. 

    On Tuesday friends from our sailing days arrive for a week's visit and, with them on board, we will return to Paris and tie up for the winter in the Arsenal.  I am ready to settle in for the fall and winter, looking forward to the gym, yoga, French lesson and, most of all, Paris with all its' delights.  We have tickets to operas, concerts, ballets, etc. and we have only just begun to explore the possibilities.

            There will undoubtedly be some sense of relief from not having to be concerned with boat handling and maintenance. Where we will be able to moor for the night?  Can boats our size moor at that place?   How much commercial traffic there will be? Do the locks on this canal close for lunch?  Will we tie up in time to go get a baguette? What will go wrong with the boat today?  These are the normal little stress points that come with living on a boat.  There is no doubt that it has been more than worth the trouble, but it will be nice to get settled in our cozy spot in Paris right under the Place de la Bastille. By next spring, we will be recharged and ready to tackle new canals in new regions of this endlessly interesting country.

Last year was the year of the burgundies.  So, this year will be known as the year of the champagnes.  But, more of this later.

                   When last seen we were on a canal that might be called "a backwater"…the very placid and dull Canal Entre Champagne et Bourgogne. 

          It was uneventful until the very end…after 222 kilometers and 143  locks  we finally got our comeuppance at the 144th lock…wherein your resolute barge driver "lost it" coming into the narrow lock opening and  as we slammed into one side of the lock one of our bumpers caught on the opening gate, bending it all to hell and breaking the hydraulic lines that controlled the lock.  Besides spraying hydraulic fluid all over the side of LaLavande we effectively shut down the canal.  But it was (as the French would say) "pas grave"…thanks to the wonderful genius that French mechanics have: the ability to improvise and patch things together.  Within an hour they had the lock working again.  And to show that there were no hard feelings, the official who came to make out the accident report had only one request of us: he wanted a picture of him with Luca. Luca to the rescue!!

          When we were first starting on the canals a friend sagely cautioned us: "You are only as good as your last lock."  How true, how true.

           Exiting the interminable canal we turned west onto the Canal Lateral a La Marne and were heading for Paris. But first there was a great three day stop at Chalons en Champagne…a delightful provincial capital and as so typical of  these cities there was a music festival going on…free concerts on the squares at night. And best of all for Suzanne and Luca there was a superb walk/run through a great park to the banks of the Marne.

          And then it was finally our exit from the canal system and onto the rivers themselves.  We had been paralleling the Marne since it's origin  way back near where we left the Saone. Now it was on to the Marne. We will now be on the Marne all the way to Paris, where it joins up with the Seine on its way to the sea.

          Barging on the river is a different driving experience…. it is so much wider…a relaxed steering experience. On the other hand you have a relatively fast current running (in this case with us as we head downstream). And to control the river there are "barrages" or "weirs" (like waterfalls) which are to be avoided at all costs (who wants to sail over a small Niagara). Next to each barrage there is a lock , which mercifully is much larger than the canal locks, but entry and exit becomes stressful as the current pushes you around.  However, the barrages are few and far between so. . there is plenty of time opportunity to just enjoy the scenery.

           The Marne is a lovely river, running through low rolling hills that are blanketed with vineyards so neatly arranged in rows that look like someone had run a comb over the shrubs.  The vines thrive in pebbly, chalky soil on south facing slopes and so home owners with back yards sloping to the south have them planted with valuable chardonnay or pinot noire rather than something worthless, like tomatoes.

          The champagne business is divided between the "biggies" like Moet & Chandon, Tattinger, Bollinger, etc….and the more than 300 small producers.  Driving through the small towns of Champagne you begin to feel that everybody with a garage big enough is making and selling champagne. So, the real name of the game in buying champagne is to avoid the expensive big names and find those small ones who are making great wines. (57% of  Champagne is consumed in France but  80% of that is from  small producers, wherein the US 80% is purchased from the  top names.)

            When we left the canal we pulled into the small city of  Epernay, which is, along with Reims, the heart of the champagne "industry".  With a population of only 30,000 it produces nearly as much champagne as Reims, which is five times larger.  Champagne is aged in caves and under the town of Epernay, carved  through the chalk soil,  there are more than 60 miles of tunnels 65 to 100 feet beneath your feet where millions, yes, millions, of bottles of champagne are aging. Most of the big houses have tours of the caves and in one, Mercier, they have guided tours on small trains running through the caves.

          Champagne seems to permeate the whole town. For instance, we celebrated our anniversary (we remembered it this year) at a "one star" restaurant and the wine list started with eleven pages of champagnes and followed with just four pages of all other types of wine. In nearby Dormans (another smaller town) as we were touring a very ugly war memorial we made the acquaintance of  the owner of a small, chic bar who happened to love Boxers (another victory for Luca) who invited us to his bar for…guess what?... "a glass of champagne!"

          We solved the problem of finding the "good" independent brands by locating a classy champagne bar in the middle of Epernay that  had a cave with the champagnes of forty independent producers (for sale at "producers prices")…and you could sample some of the wines at the bar. So, cases of champagne are now beginning to crowd out the small "cave" behind Suzanne's closet on LaLavande.

          Another caustic comment on Epernay…it has some of the ugliest architecture in France…including the ghastly tower (right behind our mooring spot) of one of the champagne houses. But don't blame it all on Epernay…over the course of history the town has been destroyed at least 25 times….the last being  in 1916.  Nevertheless it does seem that in Northern France after they built the cathedral at Reims is was all downhill, architecturally.

          But it is all not flowers and vines in the Marne valley…as you cruise along you cannot help but be reminded that this was the battleground, throughout history, of some very bloody fighting. It was especially memorable for Suzanne who recalled that her father had  fought and was wounded in these very battle fields in 1918. 

          Just to the east is Verdun!  It was a tremendously moving experience to visit this battle ground, where in a 300 day struggle, starting in 1916, 135,000 French soldiers (and an almost equal number of Germans) were slaughtered…and for us to realize today what a useless butchery it was. Visiting the area now you can still see miles of ground cratered with the shell holes of the artillery, fields of 15,000 graves and a mammoth ossuary with the bones of the unidentified.

                    And as I sit here writing this in the middle of Chateau-Thierry (a pleasant, non-descript town) I look across at a large memorial to the American soldiers of the 3rd Infantry Division and up on the hill is large monument to the Americans who died here.