As the weather forecast suggested, the past two days have produced what might be the last “nice” weekend of the year for Paris. Nice of course is a subjective term- especially when you consider that I came hopped up a few latitudes to experience nice fall weather that only calls for intermittent periods of slanty winter sun. Cold inclement weather is quite welcome in my book.
Still, it’s a weekend worth venturing into, and you have all have probably guessed by now that I’m all about carpe diem in this town. I accomplished my 12 mile long run yesterday, so lucky me I have fresh legs that are more than willing to wander about at a slower cruising speed.
Up in the northern periphery of the city is
Parc de la Villette. Opened in 1991, this area used to be an abattoir and massive meat market that dated from the mid-1880s. Today you’d hardly imagine that this was never anything more than an expansive Coney Island-type attraction.
Also on the park grounds stands the grand hall. This covered marketplace once held livestock, but today it houses events like expositions and concerts. I didn’t even know that this was here- which goes to show how much homework I do before venturing out the door.
Seeing as how I was up here to enjoy the fine fall weather, I really didn’t intend to go into the hall. As I moved closer to the building however, I could see that two expos were going on that day. One was a Vivez Nature (basically, “Go Granola!”) expo. Neat. The other one….well….it made me kinda laugh to myself:
Of course, it’s the African fair! I am starting to understand that Africa and Megan are going to be inextricably linked for the rest of my life. One seems to follow the other around in large and small ways. This is yet another example of god poking me in the side of the ribs. I think it’s funny.
I really wanted to check out the park, but I also understood that the inertia of the African fair would force me to modify my plans. I entered the hall and headed in to what I thought was the Africa expo. As it turns out, I went in the wrong door- and suddenly I found myself at the organic living (for lack of a better term) expo. I figured I’d walk around and see what was going on.
This is the stand that greets visitors to the
Vivez Nature show. This group I think is kind of like the Sex Pistols version of Greenpeace (they had their own muted stall about 20 meters from here). I didn’t stop and talk to these guardians of the sea, and I especially didn’t want to tell them that I drive big boats that sometimes run over large whales- because I that’s not something that would positively impact this nice day.
The Nature Expo had lots of stuff for sale or for sampling- to include lots of bread, foie gras (yes, goose liver), grains and weird dry goods that I love to eat. Lately I’ve been on the hunt for more steel cut oats in this country, but thus far have been unsuccessful. I was hoping a vendor might have some for sale here, but alas I came up empty. Instead, there was more than one stand selling the following “invention”:
This stand is devoted to selling reusable maxi-pads- but that’s not all! They can be purchased in an array of colors and neat-o patterns (to my male readers, you’re welcome!).
Okay, after the maxi-pad table, I decided that I was done with this Vivez Nature business. I appreciated their desire to eliminate waste on this planet….but yeah…it’s time for me to move along…even if I never found my steel-cut oats.
I wasn’t outside for long before that magnet known as the African continent did its understated best to pull me towards their expo. It was kind of hard not to go inside, especially when I heard groovy music emanating from their wing of the Villette Grand Hall. Time to banish the recyclable polka dotted sanitary napkins out from my mind…
“Welcome to the African fair!” a nice lady said to me as she handed me some literature as I reached the doors.
Like any African event worth attending, there was a live band playing loud but agreeable music that creates a real festival atmosphere. I had to speak up to ask the vendors questions, but I was already liking my choice to come inside.
African continent: 1 Organic hippies: 0.
[Note: I actually like, and might also be described as an organic hippy by some people]
The African Fair was great because it wasn’t just endless stands of wood carvings that may or may not have been created in Africa. There were stalls of tailors, artists, inter-continental banks, haircare products as well as Western Union (most people send money back to their families on the continent). And there was food. Ah yes the food…
Ginger and bissap (hibiscus) juice. Almost like I’m back in Senegal, except for these prices.
I didn’t get any juice, but my excitement meter perked way up when I saw the following scrawled on the back of a paper plate: Café Touba, 1€. One euro for Café Touba?! That’s highway robbery- especially when I usually buy it for ten cents in a container like this:
But I’m in Paris….so I didn’t hesitate to reach into my pocket to produce a one euro coin for this fantastic street refreshment.
Mmm….spices and sugar and caffeine and god knows what else. This is probably my favorite consumable item coming out of Senegal. As I grabbed my cup, a Senegalese guy came over and told me that I had to put sugar in it. “Do you know this?” he asked me in French. I used some of my fifty words of Wolof to tell him yes and neex na torop. He asked where I was from and where I lived in Paris. I told him I lived in Dakar, and we had a nice chat. Still, I’ve gotten rather seasoned in the art of talking to Senegalese men, and before I could be invited over to his house to eat ceeb (rice) with his family, I wished him ba beneen yoon, inch’allah before moving on.
The line for Senegalese food was long- and truth be told the nems,
yassa and mafé looked pretty good- but I stuck with my coffee.
This stand was kinda cool, and now that I think of it, I wonder why I didn’t stop for a taste. They’re selling halal sparkling grape juice. Party time!
I came upon a stand selling these posters that taught a person about each country. The guy told me “since there’s 52 countries in Africa, we divided it into 52 weeks, so it’s like a calendar where each week you can learn a little about each country”. He did concede that the whole Sudan business made this 2012 calendar incorrect (you all know that
Sudan split into two countries back in July, right?). I didn’t bother to ask him what he thought of places like Western Sahara, or that fact that he made Senegal and The Gambia one “country” to learn about. Oh Africa,
c’est pas évident…
I will tell you that the African fair had me in pretty good spirits. Being a sucker for maps, I bought the mostly-incorrect Africa country poster and headed back out into the sunshine to have an actual look around the park.
The French are unabashed sun-worshippers, and everyone was out with their families enjoying the sun.
Kinda like Africa, the Navy can’t stray far from me either. This park has a decommissioned diesel submarine hanging around as well- L’Argonaute. Launched in 1958 and retired in 1982, this thing now looks fake compared to modern standards. And 1982 wasn’t that long ago! No, I didn’t go inside.
Next to the sub is La Géode- an omni-theatre that admittedly looks cooler than the one at the Boston Science museum. It wasn’t until I came upon this thing that I realized that I have been to this park before (and saw a show). This was almost twenty years ago.
Here’s part of a scanned photo collage from 1993. I’m with the first of many French host sisters during the year I spent in France. I still remember these Asics sneakers and my L.L. Bean messenger bag. The tapered Gap jeans and CB ski shell- well- those I’d probably rather forget. Other than that I don’t think I’ve changed much.
Okay, so that’s the Parc de la Villette. I say this all the time, but my pendulum with respect to Africa is always swinging back and forth. I felt oddly at home while in the African fair- yet at the same time I feel oddly at home here in Paris too. I’m sure that a lot of people would chime in on this observation, but when your existence involves living in foreign lands for significant amounts of time, something changes in you. I don’t want to say that I have become stateless (because I really love my passport and my job protecting our country), but these days I certainly find it harder to drop myself neatly back into any singular culture.
What does that mean for my future? I dunno. Maybe I’ll go back to being a SWO and spending my life driving around in the ocean. If we ever go away from being a dry Navy, I just might consider it….
