Freewheeling In Paris

Photo: freewheelingfrance.com

Spring finally arrived last week in Paris, and I took my bike out for its first spin in months, which is highly unusual. I didn’t used to be a fair-weather cyclist.

Call me crazy, but I commuted to work for more than a decade--day in, day out, through sun, rain, wind, sleet, and the occasional snowfall! What’s more, I wrote the first online English-language guide to cycling in the city, before it was even a concept. Before online was a concept. My publisher dropped me saying the topic was “too niche.”

That’s not true today. Cycling here has gone from about 1% of the commuting population to about 15%, according to the City of Paris. That’s huge growth in the 15 years since I wrote my guide.

When I started cycling here, there were no real bike paths at all, just faint paint marks on the asphalt from years gone by.

Seeing me in my Lycra bike pants and helmet, Parisians would tease me, yelling “Tour de France!” Cyclists were few, and even riders on the tour didn’t wear helmets!

Today, Paris has 700 kilometers of dedicated and shared bike paths, and has big plans in the next five years. It plans to invest €150 million to double the kilometerage of paths to 1400.

Plus, the authorities are building north-south and east-west express lanes so that bikes can zip from one end of the city to the other unimpeded by stop lights or cars. They’re calling it Réseau Express Vélo or REVe—which means “dream” in English. What’s more, while the city has been eliminating parking for cars, it plans to add 10,000 spots for bikes.

Riding in Paris, I have long believed, is a natural. The terrain is mostly flat, though some hills can fool you, like those leading to Passy, Montmartre, or Belleville.

The only problem are the cars. But even the amount of car traffic isn’t so bad, outside of rush hour. Sunday mornings can be bliss on a bike.

Now I said cars, and I don’t mean drivers. Parisian motorists usually watch out for cyclists, and are bound by law to give a meter’s berth. Unlike in the U.S., where drivers seem to believe that they alone have paid for the asphalt! Pittsburgh has seen some dreadful, fatal cycling accidents lately. In Paris, it’s the cyclists who aren’t used to the idea of heeding traffic signs.

One thing that’s supercharged the use of bikes for transport in Paris are low-cost public rentals through the Vélib program.

The Vélib 

The system was launched in the summer of 2007, and now boasts 23,600 bicycles and 1,800 stations, with an average daily ridership of over 100,000 in 2014, according to the mayor’s office 2014 report on commuting.

Vélib is one reason why I haven’t—until this week—replaced my own 30-year-old hybrid. The rental bikes are maintenance-free for the user.

But the Vélib is also the reason I’m buying a new bike. It weighs a ton! (More precisely, 22.5 kilos or 50 pounds.) My commute is now twice as long since I moved to the 'burbs, and after pedaling that tank for 40 minutes each way, I’m exhausted when I get home!

The word The Vélib is a mashup for Vélo and libération—bike and freedom. It describes the dreamy way I feel while cycling in the city, even uphill. Now if the mayor could only do something about the weather?

Paris Places: Parc Monceau

The oldest tree in Parc Monceau, planted in 1814

Another one of my favorite lunch-time haunts is Parc Monceau, especially now in the springtime. I think it's perhaps the most beautiful park in Paris, a bouquet of flowers, greenery, and trees--one more than 200 years old.

The English-style garden is strew with what looks like ancient ruins, which gives my haunt a haunted look. They are "follies," or replicas of ruins to give it that Greco-Roman look, popular when the park was designed in the 18th century. You'll find an Egyptian pyramid, a Chinese fort, a Dutch windmill, and Corinthian pillars.

The closest thing in Pittsburgh might be Highland Park. (OK, it's a stretch, but I had to fit the reference to the 'Burg in somehow!)

Although you can see the gilded gates from the Arc de Triomphe, it's devoid of tourists.* Instead, you'll find working stiffs like me out for a bag lunch on the green, school children running around at recess, and parents and babies out for some air.

Last week, I took my first jog in ages on the path that rings the park, swerving the walkers, baby buggies--and two children who were shouting at me!

"What's wrong?" I asked. They jumped up and down and said, "Are you part of the race?" "Yes," I said, knowing by their smiles that they were pulling my leg. "Then you have to take the detour over there, or it doesn't count!"

To their delight, I played their game, and took the slightly longer route. To my delight as well.

*One reason Parc Monceau is empty of tourists is probably that the golden gates are always shut, making it appear closed from afar. To enter, use one of the discrete side entrances that are open during daylight year-round. If natural beauty isn't enough to attract you to this living monument, there's always the free Wi-Fi!

----------------

Rose Marie Burke, an editor and journalist, writes a blog about her personal insights into life in Paris. After 20 years in the City of Light, she still calls her native Pittsburgh "home." Want to follow this blog? Find me on LinkedIn, email me at rose.burke89 "at" yahoo.fr, or follow me on Google+.

The Message Is Out

This past week, I went to one of the biggest cocktail parties ever. I wore my little black dress and heels. It was mom’s night out.

It’s wasn’t to the presidential palace, or to a corporate banquet.

It was to the annual meeting of my support group—Message. I joined the group some 16 years ago when I was pregnant with my first (and only) child. Life as a mom can be difficult anywhere, but in a foreign country without family and friends, it can be daunting.

Message was there to help.

At first I was a bit wary. I didn’t need a “support group.” Was it some kind of 12-step program? Would I have to bare soul or my lactating boobs in front of strangers?

The short answer was that I found a surrogate family who were willing to care and share.

The idea is simple: moms (and now dads) host a playdate or outing. Members sign up. You get together, the kids play and the parents celebrate … or commiserate. And it’s free, beyond the reasonable annual membership fee.

The idea is so simple and powerful that Message grew from a handful of members in 1984 to more than 2,000 today! It’s one of the biggest English-speaking associations in France. And entirely volunteer-run.

Through Message, I found a neighborhood playgroup for my daughter, then started one of my own. In the playgroup, my timid 2-year-old found her first friends. And I found some long-lasting bonds too!

Beyond activities, the association hosts parenting classes and trained breastfeeding help. There are programs about education and health. The website has a wealth of information … including about my current worry, raising teens. One of my friends purchased all of her baby gear second-hand through the site’s classifieds.

Message Easter egg hunt in 2010 at Les Arènes de Lutèce in Paris 

The group is always ready to rally to the support of a member truly in need, whether they’ve lost their job, their spouse, or their baby—totally anonymously.

Without Message, I think I would have truly lost my sanity. Instead, I think I’ve retained about more than half—not too shabby!

It goes to show you the power of community, even in France, where people tend to look to the government first for help.

One reason I’m writing this post is to “get the Message out.” Together, we can do so much when alone it might feel impossible. Together, we can kick up our heels once a year and say: We made it!

The ‘’Beehive’’ of Paris: A Rare Visit

Source: www.fondation-patrimoine.org

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of going back to the “beehive” or “La Ruche” in the far reaches of the 15th arrondissement in Paris. Not to make honey, but to make art.

This famous artists’ residence was built in 1900 out of the remains of a gazebo-like structure from the Paris Universal Exposition held that year. It was nicknamed “La Ruche” for its unique shape, which reminds me of a smaller version of Shakespeare’s Globe Theater.


Inside this beehive are very busy artists, like Jan Olsson, with whom I had the privilege of taking a print-making workshop organized through the nonprofit association WICE.

Taking a workshop is in fact one of the only ways to see this amazing structure, now officially called la Fondation La Ruche – Cité d’artistes. It's closed to the general public.

When I’m there, I feel as if I’ve stepped back in time. I leave the routine of work and family, and put on my black smock, and start to make art.

Jan makes it easy for people like me who are dabblers to make a finished work. On this day, we’re learning how to make monotypes. We take a small plate and apply ink using brushes, cardboard, Q-tips or other implements. I worked from a photo of three fish that I took.

I take my plate and paper to Jan’s own press, which looks as old as La Ruche, but was made for her in 1993. I get behind the captain’s wheel and turn. I peel off the paper to see what I’ve made.
And I go back to make more.

Jan remarked that we were very productive that day, making about six prints each. Very busy bees at the beehive. On my way out, I circumferenced the hive to take in the brick, iron, and glass structure—laced with ivy—that speaks of Paris, art, and the creative spirit.
-------------------------
Rose Marie Burke, an editor and journalist, writes a blog about her personal insights into life in Paris. After 20 years in the City of Light, she still calls her native Pittsburgh "home."

Cops and COP21 in Paris

In the aftermath of the Nov. 13, terrorist attacks here in Paris, the city braced itself for the global climate change talks that began last week. What do these two things have in common? Security. Police, armed forces, and security guards are omnipresent.

Some commentators have questioned whether countries should focus on terrorism or the environment, but not France. The country is proceeding with its war on terrorism and its conference to combat climate change. However, the president has toned it down and scaled it down, for instance telling climate activists to stay at home (or else). COP21 is no longer a climate party, just a (yawn) Conference of the Parties.

Shoes placed on the Place de la Republique,
after a climate march was canceled.
Source: www.telegraph.co.uk

In past weeks I have been guilty of contributing to the massive amount of information overload around COP21, helping my company to edit and produce a climate change report. You can see the report here.

"COP21 is no longer a climate party, just a (yawn) Conference of the Parties." 

For me, evidence that this is serious business is that big investors, who don't want to lose their shirts, are looking to put money in green ventures and pull money out of carbon businesses like coal, especially. Why? There's no future in it.

For a long time, especially in my home town of Pittsburgh, the debate was jobs versus the environment. My dad worked at one of the steel mills (and so did I, for one summer). My dad put food on the table at the same time the mill spewed pollution into the air we breathed. It was a cruel bargain.

Downtown Pittsburgh, 1940. images.library.pitt.edu

Today, though, we know how to build a greener economy offering cleaner jobs. We don't have to use the air as a garbage dump. We thought it was a free ride, but now the costs are mounting.

I'm still thinking of what I can do. Take fewer airplane trips, eat less beef, and buy less stuff—that's probably a good start. And I'll save some euros for the daughter's college fund, get some stay-cation sleep, and eat healthier. (To learn more or take action, you might want to see what Pope Francis has to say here.)

COP21 is not the party we wanted. But that's OK. We just need for everyone to get along, get something done, and have a safe trip home.

Rose Marie Burke, an editor and journalist, writes a blog about her personal insights into life in Paris. After 20 years in the City of Light, she still calls her native Pittsburgh "home."

Paris Is Crying

Living out of harm's way in the south suburbs of Paris, I was spared by Friday night's terrorist attack in the eastern part of the city. Spared but deeply saddened.

The country has long been the target of terrorism. In December 1994, nine months after we arrived to live in Paris, seven were killed in the hijacking of Air France Flight 8969 by members of the Armed Islamic Group.

In July 1995, members of the same group killed eight people in the underground bombings of the Metro and RER commuter train in the heart of Paris at St. Michel. As a journalist freelancing for USA Today, I ventured down into the empty caverns of the subway to report on the story. The odor of destruction still haunts me.

By French graphic artist Jean Jullien, Nov. 14, 2015

Friday's attack was the deadliest ever, with more than 150 killed and counting. Suicide bombers did their dirty work on innocent Parisians and visitors out on a lovely November evening to hear music or have a meal together.

Yesterday, I was overcome with grief. For those who lost loved ones, the city that has been deeply scarred, and the nation that has for so long been my second home.

At the same time, I was overwhelmed with the kindness of dozens of you who messaged and called with your thoughts and prayers—and so many from my fellow Pittsburghers, yinz are the best! Merci beaucoup! Je vous aime! I am touched and blessed.

I think I worried some people by my silence. I wasn't thinking that anybody would be worried about me! I set my Facebook status as “safe,” and wrote back to everyone to say I was safe--sort of.

Safe is an overstatement. I was not harmed, but don't feel “safe.” I went to church today feeling vulnerable in the second row, and have to admit that I was half-listening for gunfire during the sermon. I quizzed my daughter about what to do in an attack, and she answered correctly (fall to the floor).

Words are failing me, but one thing is resonating. It's the “Paris for Peace” symbol that's gone viral, drawn by the Frenchman Jean Jullien in the hours after the attack. It shares my hope for Paris, for France, and everyone who wants to find a way forward—peacefully.

Our Green Home – On TV!

One of the buildings in our new
eco-neighborhood, Issy-Seine,
just outside of Paris.

(Since I first published this post on Nov. 8, 2015, the TV segment aired on Nov. 22. You can see it here, "How the French are burning garbage to heat homes.")


Last week a TV crew came to our place to do some taping about our new eco-friendly neighborhood, for a documentary to be aired in the U.S. later this month on Public Broadcasting Service's Newshour weekend program. This will be part of the network's coverage of the global Climate Change Conference taking place in Paris on Nov. 30-Dec. 22.

A few days before, I called battle stations to clean the apartment—I even ironed a bedspread for the first time in my life. But it wasn't the bedrooms, bathrooom, or living rooms they wanted to film. They wanted to see the garbage cans!

That's because the crew was excited about how our apartment and the water is heated—and our garbage plays a big role. 

We sort our garbage into recyclables and the rest, and take them downstairs to the apartment's garbage room. There, we throw them into separate shoots, and by the power of pneumatics, the garbage is whooshed away about a mile north to a plant. The incinerator burns the garbage that can't be recycled, and sends the energy back to our building in the form of steam—which heats the building and its hot water. (The recyclables are sorted and sold for reuse.)

Not many cities in the world take advantage of this form of energy, called “district heating” (DH), but two examples are New York—and Pittsburgh, believe it or not! The idea is to produce and consume energy in the area where it's consumed—like eating locally sourced food.

DH in Denmark, for example, currently heats over 60% of homes with that number rising to 95% in Copenhagen, according to Renewable Energy Focus. (Read here about a renewal of Pittsburgh's ancient district energy system.)

One good thing about our DH system is … no garbage trucks! Because of the underground delivery system, there is no need for noisy, smelly trucks to be making their rounds. In my old neighborhood, that was a nasty 6:30 a.m. wake-up call! And because there are no garbage trucks, there is no pollution from them, and reduced pollution from the cars who aren't backed up waiting for the trucks that clog the streets.

Plus, DH makes us less dependent on the electricity grid, which is expensive in France. Another good thing: we don't have to deal with water heaters or furnaces in our apartment, small by U.S. standards at 750 square feet, which take up valuable space and require annual upkeep.

“Waste not, want not,” as the old saying goes. The beauty of DH is that it turns waste into something we want. All around, it's a good deal for us … and the environment.

(I don't know the exact date when this documentary will air, but I'll let you know in a future post.)

Rose Marie Burke, an editor and journalist, writes a blog about her personal insights into life in Paris at http://parispittsburghandmore.blogspot.com. After 20 years in the City of Light, she still calls her native Pittsburgh "home."

Visit Versailles Outside-In

What to do with mom when she comes to Paris to visit you for a day? Go to Versailles of course! Secretly, I think both of us were hesitant about the idea. Me: The crowds! My mom: All that walking!

The palace of Versailles is the No. 1 tourist attraction in the Paris area, with over 3 million visitors a year and counting! 

How to beat the crowds? The Versailles website suggests getting there at the opening, at 9 a.m. So that's what we tried to do—but failed. I was to meet mom at her hotel, and go directly to the palace. But mom had a heavy bag of presents to give us, so that meant going home first. By the time we got to Versailles, it was 11 a.m.

To buy our tickets, we headed into the very helpful Versailles Tourist Office, about two blocks in front of the palace. Unless we wanted to wait in line for an hour, the clerk strongly advised us to delay our visit until 3 p.m.! What to do?

Visit the gardens! They are free of charge, and vast, stretching on for about 2,000 acres. I was tempted to rent a golf cart to get us around, but my teenage daughter was completely against such an embarrassing idea! I wonder what the French kings did to get around? Probably something like a golf cart, but pulled by horses.

The gardens are not just one garden, but is a group of individually designed and decorated areas. My favorite was “The King's Garden,” designed as an "English garden,” which is wilder and more natural than a manicured “French garden.” The French gardens at Versailles typically feature statues, and a pool or fountains—a high-tech flourish in the 17^th century. My daughter and I wanted to see the gardens again after watching the excellent movie about their creation, “A Little Chaos” (2014).

The walking worked up our appetites. We saw a sign near the Apollo Fountains for a restaurant called La Petite Venise. That might just work, I thought, as it was off the beaten tourist trail. The white tablecloths gave us a fright, but we found a copious antipasti dish--Italian cold cuts, cheese, and vegetables--to share among the three of us at 31 euros. Perfect!

Fortified, we went to check out the lines for admission to the inside of the palace. To our surprise, the lines had completely disappeared. Or so it would seem. Once inside, tour groups flagging their selfie sticks choked the rooms. No fun at all! So after we saw the main sights--the queen and king's bedrooms, the chapel, and the Hall of Mirrors--we made a run for the exit.

Want to really enjoy Versailles? See it from the outside. When the French kings tired of being suffocated by life inside the palace, they found refuge in the gardens. Today's tourists can do the same. Use your admission fee to instead eat like royalty at one of the garden's restaurants. And don't be shy about renting a carriage, I mean a golf cart!

Martin Luther King Jr. In Paris

Nearly 50 years ago to this day, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was visiting Paris, raising awareness for the civil rights movement in the U.S.

He was already world-famous. A year before, on Oct. 14, 1964, King received the Nobel Peace Prize for using nonviolent action to combat racial inequality.

And then in March of 1965, he participated in the Selma to Montgomery marches for voting rights. The peaceful marchers were met with a cruelty that many Americans across the country were able to view for the first time on television. Good came out of it: the landmark Voting Rights Act was passed just five months later.

So it was on Sunday, Oct. 24, 1965, that King preached at the American Church of Paris. The title of the sermon was “The New Jerusalem,” but nothing else is know about what he said in the pulpit. 

One can imagine that it was an early draft of his “I Have A Dream” speech. In the Bible, New Jerusalem is a place where “the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21).

The top thing on people's minds on that October day, however, was the Vietnam War. The preacher “encountered an intense debate about the America war in the former French colony. King conducted himself, reported the Paris press, with 'extreme discretion.'” (Richard Lentz, 1990) Only in 1967 did the preacher come out against the Vietnam War in an extremely controversial speech at the Riverside Church in New York.

In a sermon today at the American Church of Paris, commemorating King's speech, Rev. Dr. Luke A. Powery, Dean of Duke University Chapel, reminded us that we are not yet living in the New Jerusalem--naming the black victims of the recent shootings in the U.S.

For that to happen, Powery said we have to “Speak and declare, 'injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.' Speak because someone has to declare, 'Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.' Speak and declare, 'Guns are not Gods!'”

No one knew exactly what King said in Paris that day, 50 years ago, but I imagine that it was very much something like that.

If You Can't Go To Versailles … Go Here

Photo: colincowieweddings.com.

On my lunch break one day this week, I dove into a little-known museum called the Jacquemart-André in the 8th arrondissement. (If my boss happens to be reading, I did in fact accomplish this feat and eat a salad at Jour within my 1.25 hour official Paris lunchtime.) 

I felt victorious, because I vowed (oh so many years ago) to become a member of the museum, just so I could pop in and out for a short visit. Without buying a 12 euro ticket and feeling that strange need to ''get my money's worth'' and stay the whole day.

You see, this Versailles-like mansion is just two blocks from work. There's no reason in Paris why I should whine about not having time to enjoy the city's treasures, with this museum on my office's doorstep.

To see why I say it's like Versailles, just look at milady’s bedroom. The lady was artist Nélie Jacquemart, who married French banker Edouard André, and together they built this home, and traveled the world collecting art to fill it. To decorate her room, Mme. Jacquement took inspiration from the rococo style of Louis XV, who was born and reigned at Versailles in the previous century.

It's a style we Americans think as “typically French.” And yet, the French were heavily influenced by Italian culture.

I clearly saw that influence in the museum's latest exhibition, “Florence, Portraits of the Court of Médicis,” that just opened Sept. 11. It was my first just glance at this exquisite exhibit spanning from 1492 to about 1600.

Most of the portraits in the first room were like Mona Lisas: They were Italians dressed in black, eyes staring at the onlooker, thin hints of smiles. (Eerily, the ID photo on my museum pass looks a lot like that.) The exhibit is not all like that. One hundred years later, the Medicis are definitely into wearing their wealth.

The Florentines commissioned portraits of themselves to basically tell others (and remind themselves) of their superior place in the world. Their family bred dukes, kings, and popes—and a lot of rivalry and war. The Medicis would've loved today's selfies.

Mr. and Mrs. Jacquemart-André continued the tradition of pomp and circumstance, but it ended with them. They had no children. Faithful to the plan agreed with her husband, Mrs. Jacquemart bequeathed the mansion and its collections to the Institut de France as a museum, and it opened to the public in 1913.

I hope you'll get to enjoy this gift from Mr. and Mrs. Jacquemart-André. Especially if you don't manage to get to Versailles. You'll also appreciate this: no lines at the door, and a restaurant with some of the lightest lunches and densest desserts in town in a lavish, gilt setting. You'll eat like royalty.

Photo: Jacquemart-André Museum.