Journées du Patrimoine: Samedi

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Allons enfants (yes yes-de la patrie), this is gonna be worthwhile.
This past weekend marked the annual historical bash where France opens up many buildings, monuments and institutions to the public for a free look inside. Known as Heritage Days, I have heard that this fantastic opportunity takes place in other European countries as well (but I’m pretty sure that Senegal is not playing, although I kinda wish they would cuz I wanna see President Wade’s crib).
I will say this about Heritage Days- there are a ton of places that are unlocked for the occasion. When I looked at the dossier listing (neatly parsed by arrondissement), I was immediately awash in what I term as “The Toothpaste Dilemma”. Explanation: I once walked into a Ralph’s for a tube of toothpaste, and was so overcome by the ridiculously vast selection that I ended up walking out of the store with nothing to show for the trip. Too much choice kind of paralyzes me, and that’s probably why I like to eat the same thing for breakfast each day.
So fast forward to the list of all possible places to tourist over this limited time-only period: Tarter Control, Tom’s Natural Cinnamint, Crest Extra Whitening….how am I ever going to make a worthy choice with so much history at my fingertips? Ahh the travails of a culture-hungry vagrant…
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As luck would have it, the clock was ticking- so I just scribbled down two places that seemed to be heritage headliners on the main web page. Stop number one was going to be an easy choice: the unmistakable Parisian centerpiece known as the Hôtel de Ville.

(Psst: has anyone else noticed that the zillion historical Hôtels that dot this city aren’t really hotels at all? That’ll have to be a tangent for another day….)
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The city’s administration may be run out of this building, but I have to say that the interior looks nothing like you would expect from the standard issue, communist-looking cinder constructions that we have back in the States. As soon as I stepped inside, I was completely taken by the ornate splendor that spared no room (well, the bathroom was kind of boring actually….).
Before I throw more Sun King-variety photos at you, let me just say that I have been to Versailles exactly once- and it ranks just behind the Louvre in places I don’t care to visit ever again. Maybe it’s because I had zero expectations of the Hôtel de Ville (and I only stood in line for five minutes), but I really enjoyed wandering about and gawking what would definitely pass for Barbie’s version of a Parisian Dream House.
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As I type this and glance up right here in Montmartre, I an see that I’m under a white ceiling. Oh there’s also a bit of pretty crown molding, but it is nicely accented by a crack that runs three-quarters of the way across the plafond. Here, they do a good job of hiding any existing cracks.

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What I liked best about this tour is that the building maintainers each had displays, and were standing around ready to chat about their life’s work. Here we have a locksmith, but I also saw carpenters, the cleaning staff, plumbers and carpet people (okay, tapissiers sounds much better).

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The rooms are covered with painting after painting, and each bears an in-depth historical explanation. I chose to post this particular one because the man on the bottom step wearing a tri-colored sash is the Marquis de Lafayette. (If you’ve forgotten about the Lafayette’s place in our American history, click here).  Here he is shown wearing a uniform of the National Guard, and having just returned from America, he has been appointed to the rank of Commander.

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This salon was a long hall of mirrors, and thus quit reminiscent of Versailles. I was actually more impressed by this place than that crazy palace- maybe because I didn’t have to hop the RER to get there. Still, throughout this tour I kept thinking of my brother-in-law and his unique observation while we were at Versailles: “I totally get the French Revolution now. If I were a French peasant and saw how these people were living, I’d have been pretty pissed off too!” Well said, mon frère

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This is the City Council Session Room. The pamphlet told me that this room was symbolically placed in the center of the building to reflect the importance of Paris’s democratic representation. While you may note the tapestries dating from 1865, what you don’t see is the little adjoining cafe that doubtlessly reflects the importance of kick ass Parisian food (and crappy coffee). That last interpretation was not in the pamphlet.

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When I grow up, I want my name etched in stained glass. Wait, no I don’t. I don’t want to govern this city, even if it might make me president one day…

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When I mention to French people that I visited the Hôtel de Ville, they all ask about this room: the mayor’s office. Apparently it is the best office anywhere.

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The mayor’s office may be big enough to double as a Romper Room, but I found the area of the meeting table to be the most interesting. In the corner, beyond the South African vase, is a numbered edition photograph of Doisneau’s “Le baiser de l’hôtel de ville“on the easel. I bought a copy of this print when I was sixteen, and still take it with me wherever I go.

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France is of course big on art, and there are both classic and modern pieces on display throughout the building. This one is called “Untitled”, and is composed of plastic. I agree with the title, but it also makes me really hungry for a lobster roll.

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 At the end of the tour you are rewarded with an opportunity to look ridiculous out in the garden. I am all for looking ridiculous, so I got in line and struck my best pose. I don’t think I’ve stuck my head in one of these since my last high school trip to the Vineyard.

During the afternoon on Saturday, I made one more stop on this cultural fantastic voyage. This one called for a long wait/low payoff affair, in my humble non-French opinion. Again, I chose two highly-advertised sites for the first day, and the second one was a big deal because it was being opened up for the first time ever- or something. So I waited in line, made friends with my surrounding (French) visitors and wandered if it was going to rain on us over the course of the two hour wait.

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Behold the Hôtel de Lauzun, located on the Île Saint-Louis…just steps from the Berthillon ice cream parlor. How do I know this? Well everyone who was smart enough to visit here with a friend had said friend go out and get ice cream for the both of them. Sigh…now I want a lobster roll and pain d’épices ice cream…

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Okay, so I get inside the courtyard and thus see what will ultimately become the most interesting part of the tour for me. This is a sundial etched onto the side of the building. It  really makes me want to get a DIY Sundial kit and put this on the side of the Hatchville Shipyard. Maybe on the lighthouse….? Dad…?

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The Hôtel de Lauzun is one of the few remaining private houses to have retained their carved, painted, mirrored and gilded interiors from the time of Louis XIV (Thank you, Wikidpedia).

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Again, the ceilings are amazing. If nothing else, it really makes you wonder what is inside all of the otherwise unremarkable (yet beautiful) buildings that line the city streets.

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Gilded. Ornate. Opulence. Decadence. So over-the-top that tack-o-rama is successfully superseded by taste and refinement. At least that’s the approach that they were aiming for- I think.

You, like me, have been pretty patient as you have perused this entry. Of course, you didn’t stand in line for a few hours to see these bastions of French culturalism- but I have to stress that my photos don’t do any justice to the actual buildings. Still, I think you have earned some visual food reward:

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Yes people, this day also included a spectacular carrot birthday cake. It’s nice to have some American hook-ups here in zee city of lights.

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And when the cake comes adorned with pirate candles, I’d say that Megan has succeeded in embodying the meaning of Heritage Days….

Sunday is sure to have more culture. And food. I am some lucky bastard to be experiencing all of this.