Glissante Lorsq’il Est Mouillé

 He acknowledged that he did “quite some beautiful sightseeing” during a bicycle ride in Paris. But he also complained about street conditions at the beginning and end of that ride.

I imagine that he had good reason, even though—in my experience, anyway—streets in the City of Light are in better condition than those in my hometown of New York. The rider in question, you see, wasn’t a tourist and sightseeing wasn’t the purpose of his trek.  He was pumping and spinning his way through the Olympic time trial. Oh, and less than a week ago, he finished third in the Tour de France.

R

Remco Evenepoel in the Tour de France

Remco Evenepoel lamented the poor road conditions during the first and last few kilometers of the 32.4 kilometer time trial, which began this morning near the Eiffel Tower, headed east towards the Place de la Bastille and the Polygone de Vincennes before looping back into the city and finishing at the ornate Pont Alexandre III—in the rain that has fallen almost continuously since yesterday’s opening ceremonies.

That precipitation may have made things even dicier for the mountain bike racers. Nino Schurter, who won medals in the previous two Olympics, said the gravel on the manmade course 40 kilometers outside Paris was “quite loose.” He added, “If you go fast, it’s quite slippery.”

Moins de Voitures, Plus de Vélos

 A new study confirms an impression I formed during my most recent visits to Paris.

According to L’Institut Paris Région, 11.4 percent of all trips in the City of Light are made by bicycle.  In contrast, only 4.2 percent are made by car.

Perhaps even more encouraging for members of the Institut and cyclists, in the banlieues (suburbs) are 14 percent and 11.8 percent respectively. I say “more encouraging” because even though some of those suburbs, especially the ones that border on the city itself, have more access to mass transportation than some major American cities, they still don’t have as much as Paris, where no point is more than 500 meters (about .3 miles, or the equivalent of five or six NYC blocks) from a Métro station.

That availability of trains (and buses) in the central city is reflected in the 30 percent of trips made on them.  That the remaining 53 percent are on foot is also  not surprising, given Paris’ (deserved) reputation as a “walkable” city.

Still, some believe that mayor Anne Hidalgo—who has done more than any of her predecessors to promote cycling and reduce auto traffic—could have done even more.  And, to be fair, she plans to do so, especially with the upcoming Olympic Games, which some see as a showcase for “green” technology in a similar way to how the Exposition (Worlds’ Fair) of 1889 highlighted the technological advances made possible by the “Expo”s centerpiece: the Eiffel Tower.

To Prevent Another Invasion

 Nearly two weeks ago, an alien clad in green, white and red landed in the middle of Paris, bearing artifacts eagerly anticipated by a line of people 1.5 kilometers (almost 1 mile) long who came to greet it.

No, the alien wasn’t Italian and the artifacts weren’t vital links to a distant galaxy. They are, however, prized in the place from which the aliens came.  And the people who so anxiously awaited an encounter with them had seen them, until that moment, only on large, glowing screens in darkened halls.

The alien’s colors were not of a flag or spectrum. Rather, they represented the emblem of the alien’s homeland—something known in the galaxy as a “chain “ or “corporation.”

Those folks in the queue were waiting to try something they’d seen in images from a faraway land—one where Ford F-150s roam.

By now, you might have surmised that the customers in Les Halles were waiting to try something that doesn’t exist in the galaxy of Parisian pâtisseries—a Kree-spee Kréme beignet.

I guess I shouldn’t have been have been surprised. Owing largely to movies, television and music videos, American popular culture is, especially for the young, a kind of yang to the yin of haute culture, couture and cuisine. Les jeunes have grown up watching Americans dig into iconic Krispy Kreme boxes.

The company says it plans to open 500 “access points”—which will include vending machines and kiosks as well as actual stores—all over France in the next year.

I mention this development because I hope that Krispy Kreme isn’t a sign of more, and worse, trends crossing the pond, just as seeing the Shake Shack font is a harbinger of the worst things about gentrification coming to your neighborhood.

Guardian Europe columnist Alexander Hurst describes America as a “hellscape” in which folks go for their fix of glazed donuts—in their SUVs and amped-up pickup trucks.

To be sure, I have seen such vehicles in Europe.  They are, however, smaller than their US counterparts. Also, when I took bike tours in the countrysides of France and other European countries, such vehicles were used by farmers, carpenters and others engaged in work that requires hauling a lot of equipment and cargo.  Even the SUV-like vehicles I saw on recent trips in Paris, Athens and Rome were usually emblazoned with the name of a store or some other business.

Part of that has to do with the higher cost of gasoline in Europe. Another factor might be the narrower streets and roads. But Hurst believes that France and other European countries must do more to prevent this:

Ford F-150 through  the years,
 1970s-2020s.Graphic by Will Chase for Axios

The bloat in American vehicle sizes, he observes, is not only an “environmental disaster.” It’s also a hazard for pedestrians and anyone operating a smaller, less powerful vehicles—including bicycles.

As I have pointed out in earlier posts, SUVs and the pickup-trucks-on-steroids (driven by guys who could use Viagra) give us little or no room to maneuver if the driver turns, swerves or veers. Moreover, their increased height makes cyclists and pedestrians (especially small children) less visible and their higher grilles are more likely to strike someone in the upper body or even head, which is more likely to result in paralysis or death than a blow to the lower extremities.

Mayor Anne Hidalgo has proposed tripling the parking fees for SUVs in central Paris and doubling them in the rest of the city. If her proposal passes, it will be a good start. But more needs to be done—in her city and country, and the rest of Europe—in order to prevent an invasion of alien vehicles grown and fueled by Krispy Kreme’s.

After El Cinco, Le Huit

 Three days ago, Cinco de Mayo was celebrated by, I am told, more gringos in Los Estados Unidos than actual Mexicans anywhere in the world.

Today is another holiday or day of commemoration, depending on where you are.  Or, if you are in the Americas, you might not be aware of it.

On this date in 1945, the Allies accepted the unconditional surrender of German forces.  Since then, in France and other countries, this date is celebrated as Victory in Europe Day.  (If you hear a French person say something that sounds like “wheat-may,” they’re talking about huit mai: this date). In Germany, it is a somber day of commemoration.  Here in the US, it was observed mainly by veterans—of whom very few remain—of World War II’s European theatre.

As I noted in an earlier post, bicycles played a significant role in the war and led, interestingly, to lighter bicycles and changes in civilian attire.

Here is a photo Robert John McNary Smith, who served in engineer and weather units of the US Army, took on the Champs-Elysées on 8 May 1945.  It’s part of the National World War II Museum’s collection.

To Which Side Did This Ride Take Me?

The days are growing longer, however slowly.  That's a sign of Spring approaching, even if the past week's weather has been colder than a month ago--or what I experienced when I arrived in Paris during the first week of January.

But I am happy to have enough daylight late in the afternoon that I can sneak in a ride after classes.  So I took a spin down "Hipster Hook" from my apartment into Greenpoint and Williamsburg, and back through the still-bluecollar and industrial areas along the Brooklyn-Queens border.

Along the way, I stopped in what has to be one of the strangest, and in its own way, charming stores in New York.  I thought the sign might have been a "leftover" from some previous owner:  The lettering fonts and overall styles look like they're from the '50's, and delis, bodegas and the like no longer have to announce themselves as "self-service," as customers are accustomed to picking up what they want and paying for it. On the other hand, in France and other European countries in marketplaces and  stores that aren't supermarkets, you ask the fruitier or fromagier or whoever is working there--who might be the proprietor--for what you want and they pick it out for you. That was still common in the US, or at least here in New York, when I was growing up.

Anyway, the reason why I call this store "charming" is that it is unlike any other I've seen here.  It has all f the things you'll find in a deli or bodega, from coffee to cat litter.  But it also has a hodgepodge of items you might find in a dollar, or any other thrift, store:  small tools, housewares, stationery and the like.  

If you go there, you'll probably encounter something like what I saw: Gnarled, dessicated and otherwise weathered old customers buying lottery tickets and brands of beer that, I thought, disappeared 40 years ago alongside hipsters and wannabes buying craft beers I hadn't heard of, organic hummus and light bulbs. 

Oh, and the store includes something that was a veritable industry 20 to 30 years ago but is now as rare, and dated, as cuneiform:  movie rentals.  I don't know of any place in my neighborhood, or any place else in New York, that still offers this service.  I don't plan to avail myself to it since I no longer have a functioning player, but it's interesting to know that such a service still exists.  Best of all, there are gnarled, dessicated and otherwise weathered old customers buying lottery tickets and brands of beer that, I thought, disappeared 40 years ago alongside hipsters and wannabes buying craft beers I hadn't heard of, organic hummus and light bulbs.

Speaking of relics and artifacts:  On the ride back, I encountered these:

Those graffitoes have graced the wall of Calvary Cemetery that faces, ironically, Review Avenue in an industrial area along Newtown Creek.  I remember seeing them as a kid, when my family and I went to visit relatives nearby.  (Calvary wasn't the only cemetery we passed.  How did that affect my emotional development?) And I've seen them a number of times, usually from the saddle of my bicycle.

I have wondered what those people were like (or if they were real!). Did Marty and Janet stay together--get married?  Divorced?  Did one of them "come out" in his or her 40's?  And Joe?  Sometimes I imagine a blue-collar Brooklyn or Queens guy, like an older brother of one of the kids I grew up with. Was he sent to Vietnam?  Has he lived a long and happy, or a turbulent, life?  For that matter, are Marty, Janet and Joe on the side of the wall from which I encountered their "tags?"  Or are they on the other side?

If I Were A Museum Director...

 Every museum should have bicycle parking facilities--preferably indoors, with a valet.

The Metropolitan Museum in New York offered it briefly, thanks to a collaboration with Transportation Alternatives, when it re-opened after its pandemic-induced closure.  I was reminded of that during my latest Paris trip, when I went museum-hopping on the bikes I borrowed and rented.

In nine days, I visited the Rodin, Picasso, Modern Art (twice), Jacquemart-Andre and Orsay Museums. Sidewalk or curbside bike racks stood just outside all of them, secluded from the traffic.  Also, there were Velib ports near all of them.  So, in Paris it is easier than it is in New York to bike from museum to museum, without having to worry about whether your bike will be where you parked it after spending a couple or a few hours looking at paintings and sculptures.  Still, I would love to see indoor facilities--and even more encouragement of, not only cycling in general (which Paris' current mayor seems to be doing plenty of) but of riding to museums and other cultural sites.

"The Scream" isn't Edvard Munch's only painting.

I mean, for me, there is nothing like taking in the colors and forms, and the ideas and feelings they convey, after a ride along city streets.  The people, buildings and streets I see, almost kaleidoscopically, put me in a mind and mood about how artists see the subjects of their work and transform them into transmissible visions. 

Perhaps it has to do with the blood that pumps into my brain as much as the sensory stimuli I experience while riding.  That might also be the reason why I can go into "old favorite" museums like the Rodin or New York's Guggenheim, or newer favorites like the Jacquemart-Andre,  and feel as if I am, not only re-connecting, but re-discovering.

Lady Macbeth, by Fussli

Now, in the Jacquemart- Andre, I sauntered through a special exhibit of Johan Heinrich Fussli, an artist I knew peripherally through his connections with the London literary and theatre worlds of the 18th Century.  But its permanent exhibit, like the one in the Rodin, also felt fresh. So did seeing the more as well as the less famous Edvard Munch works in a special exhibit at the Orsay:  Even the "Scream" resonated for me, as did the works of Oskar Kokoschka in a Modern Art special exhibit.

Oskar Kokoschka, self-portrait

If I were a museum director, I would make bike riding a requirement for entrance.  Or, at least, I would offer a discounted admission price. (I can't exclude people who can't ride, after all!)  On second thought, if I had my way, all museums would be free.  It would be the only policy that would be fair to everybody, wouldn't it? 

That I think that way is probably one reason why I never could be a museum director:  They have to raise money somehow.  But perhaps one will listen to me when I say that cyclists make the best museum visitors.  Really, we do.

A Bike And A Bike Lane Done Right

Today I'm going to talk about a bike and a bike lane.

First, what I rode for three days in Paris. I'd already mentioned it in an earlier post.  I wanted to come back to it because it's unlike any other rental bike--or any other bike, period--I've ridden.

It's like the other bikes that comprise Paris a Velo's current rental fleet.  When I availed myself to their services four years ago, the bike I rode--which, again, was like the others in their rental fleet at the time--was a kind of hybrid/city bike.  It wasn't made for fast riding, but it sucked up abuse and neglect pretty well.

The same could be said, perhaps even more so, for the bike I rode on this trip.  Victor assured me that the tires were "flat resistant" and that the bike shouldn't give me trouble. He was right on both counts.  What I found interesting about this machine, though, were its construction and its ride.

About its build: While it, not surprisingly, doesn't have the fine filet-brazing of a constructeur bike, it did incorporate at least one principle of those old masters: structural integrity.  The rear rack is of a piece with the frame, and the front end is braced for strength.  One result is a surprisingly stable ride given the small wheels.

Those wheels, perhaps not surprisingly, got me to thinking about the one small-wheeled bike I owned and rode for any period of time:  a Dahon Vitesse.  (I briefly owned an Italian folding bike that I found on a curbside and "flipped" a few days later.)  One major difference, of course, is that the Paris a Velo bike doesn't fold.  That might be the reason why the PV bike felt so much more stable and was unexpectedly easy to accelerate.

(Oh, and I want to add that Victor included a really nice rain cape with the rental. I was tempted to ask whether I could buy it from him.)

One of the first places where I rode it was a bike lane along the Seine, toward the Notre Dame.  Too often, when I see new bike lanes in the US, I ask, "Why did they bother?"  If a lane isn't demonstrably safer than riding in traffic, there simply is no point to it.  Whoever designed that lane must have understood as much:  It's physically separated from the roadway by barriers that motor vehicles can't easily cross.  Better yet, there's plenty of room for cyclists traveling in both directions.  Too often--as with the Crescent Street lane in front of my apartment--a cyclist coming from the opposite direction risks a head-on collision or forces one cyclist to veer into traffic traveling in the opposite direction. (Crescent is a one-way street.)

So...while there might not be one "right" way to do a bike lane or city rental bike, I am happy to have experienced both done right.

Une Vraie Parisienne?

While riding (or walking) Paris streets, one encounters bikes not normally (if ever) seen in the United States, even in New York.  In the 11th Arrondissement, a lively area between the Place de la Bastille and Place de la Republique, I spotted this:

I had a difficult time photographing the whole bike because it was so closely parked.  Nontheless, I got to see the tidy lugwork and worn but tasteful paint job.  The only identifying mark I could find was the "S" on the head tube, so I don't know its provenance.  Somehow I don't think the frame is from a constructeur, as nicely done as it is. Perhaps seeing such basic equipment, such as a long-cage Huret Eco derailleur (not the Duopar; this one was almost never exported to the US) and a lower-end swaged triple crankset (from Nervar or Solida, perhaps), prejudiced my judgment.

What I couldn't help but to notice were some details one almost never sees on a bike in the US. One example is the front rack in the first photo.  It, like the rear, is attached to the fender, in the manner of the constructeurs.  I can't help but to think that rack was designed with panniers in mind.

I also loved the "guards" around the front and tail lights. Those, along with the fenders, rack and wide tires, show that this bike is meant to be ridden in all sorts of conditions.

The wheels are obviously not the originals:  The hubs look like the sort found on basic-level repair wheels.  I wonder whether this bike originally had a set of touring wheels with, say, Mavic MA3, Super Champion/Wolber 58 or Weinmann Concave rims and a nicer set of hubs--like the Maxicar?

Whatever the original intent purpose, and the provenance, of this bike may have been, it looks like a classic Parisienne!

Riding To A Light Show

More about my Paris trip--including the bike I rented and one I saw on the street--are on the way, I promise.  I'm still under the weather, just as the new semester is beginning.

In the meantime, I'll show you a treat that awaited me during one of my rides in the City of Light.

You were expecting a crepe or some such thing?  Actually, I did enjoy one with creme de marron (chestnut paste--much better than Nutella!) at a nearby stand. The fellow who made it was, in his own right, an artist.  So was the person (or were the persons) responsible for that riot of light and color.

No, a rabid painter or eccentric designer didn't storm his or her way into the abbey of Saint Germain des Pres.  The artist or artists in question did their work long ago and, perhaps unwittingly, made another kind of art--something we might call an "installation"--possible.

Ironically, the abbey stands across the eponymous Place from a cafe--Deux Magots--renowned as a haven for artists, writers, composers and other creative people during the first half of the twentieth century. Most who make the pilgrimage to the cafe and the surrounding area for its literary and artistic heritage do not, I suspect, visit the church for which the Place is named.  Likewise, I don't think most who enter the church are much interested in the walking in the footsteps or imbibing the  nectar that nourished the talents of Sartre, de Beauvoir, Hemingway and their contemporaries.

Sans Casque?

In the sweep of history, four years isn't even the blink of an eye. But, even at my age--when you start to think of people within fifteen years or so of your own age as your peers--four years, especially if they're anything like the ones that have just passed, can seem like a geological age.

I'll spare you the cliche that "we are living in a different world" from that of 2019. (OK, since I've mentioned it, I didn't spare you from it, did I?) I have seen changes in my Astoria, New York neighborhood and in the city as a whole.  The passage of time, however, seems all the more sweeping when you return to a place you haven't seen in a while, especially if that place doesn't change as much or as quickly as your own environs.

While Paris is a modern city in terms of technology and infrastructure, its overall appearance doesn't change nearly as dramatically as that of New York in any given period of time.  You can count on returning to a building you saw in the City of Light four, fourteen or forty years ago.  Even some of the stores, restaurants and cafes you remember will be there if you return.  So, perhaps, that quality makes any change  all the more striking.

In my case, I couldn't help but to notice how many more people were on bikes than I saw during previous visits.  I'd heard and read that many people took to riding--for transportation, recreation and fitness--during the pandemic.  Apparently, they stayed in the saddle.  Of course that makes me happy.  I also noticed, on the other hand, e-bikes and scooters, which were nowhere to be seen the year before the pandemic.  I saw the proliferation of those vehicles in New York as the first weeks and months of the pandemic turned into years, but in Paris, it seemed as if they were all superimposed on the image I had of the city from the last time I saw it. 

One thing hasn't changed, though:  Almost no scooter-rider or cyclist, whether of the completely human-powered or electric variety, was wearing a helmet.  I admit that I didn't wear one, either:  It's not the easiest thing to pack, especially if you're traveling only with a carry-on bag.  But somehow I didn't feel as vulnerable or exposed as I do when I leave my apartment avec velo, sans casque.

I got to thinking about that when I came across this article. It points out, correctly, that the obsession with helmet-wearing is mainly an American one.  As the article's author, Marion Renault, points out, few cyclists in the Netherlands don the plastic and foam shells.  One reason, according to Renault, is that the Dutch feel safer while riding:  Their infrastructure lends itself to safe cycling to a much greater degree than what we have in the 'States.  Also, Dutch drivers' awareness and attitudes towards cyclists are very different from those of their American counterparts.

Something similar could be said, I think, for Paris and France, if to a lesser degree. Certainly, I felt safer, whether I was riding on a protected lane or in traffic.  About the latter:  Even though Paris streets are narrower than those in New York, I felt as if I had more room to maneuver.  Most likely, that had something to do with the fact that vehicles are smaller and lower to the street:  You don't often see anything like America's best-selling vehicle class: the Ford F-Series, which weighs 7500 pounds and has a hood that stands four and a half feet tall--about the height of an adult's chin.

That brings me to another point Renault makes:  most helmet testing does not, and cannot, measure the impact of a collision between such a vehicle and a cyclist.  For one thing, it's all but impossible to replicate such conditions in a laboratory.  There are more variables in such collisions than there are in, say, a clash between (American) football players.  

One of those variables, as I implied earlier, is the driver him or her self.  When I was doored two years ago, a nurse in the emergency room declared, "Good thing you were wearing your helmet."  While that was probably true, I would have been safer had the driver glanced out her window and seen me on the other side before she opened her door. I think a lot of French and Dutch riders would agree.  They also know that having good bike lanes, room to maneuver and traffic regulations that makes sense do at least as much as any piece of protective gear to promote their safety:  Their cyclists' rates of injury and death are much lower than those of their American counterparts.

So, if and when I return to Paris or Amsterdam, or anyplace else in France or the Netherlands, will I see as few cyclists wearing helmets as I saw during the trip I just took?

It Wasn't Age After All!

 The other day, I mentioned that I didn't post during the last few days of my latest Paris trip because my full days ended with my getting back to my hotel in the wee hours of morning and collapsing onto the bed.  I intimated that, perhaps, age was catching up with me because I felt tired, if in good ways, after the sorts of activities--visiting museums and friends and, of course, walking and cycling--that also comprised previous trips.  

Well, now I know (or, at least, think I know) the real cause of my fatigue.  You might think that I am in denial and want to continue calling this blog "Midlife Cycling."  I assure you that's not the case.  Also, I tend not to suffer from "jet lag" for very long, so that's not a reason why I have become an immobile object or, if I want to put a positive spin on it, Marlee's bed.

What seemed like a slight cold during my time with Alec and Michele on Thursday devolved into bouts of coughing and sneezing on the flight home and, now, my respiratory system turning into something the Department of Environmental Protection might condemn.

Oh well.  I've gone from lunches of confit de canard with Jay and Isabelle  and civet de cerf with Alec and Michele to slurping down gallons of water, juice, chicken broth, alone, wrapped in a blanket.  That means, of course, that I haven't ridden since I've come home to colder, blustier (Is that a word?) weather than I experienced in Paris.

So I am in my apartment with Marlee, my books and my bikes.  About the latter--here's what I rode after returning the bike I borrowed:

Turns out, Paris a Velo  (formerly known as Paris Velo, C'est Sympa) was open after all!  The proprietor, Victor, explained that the pandemic boosted demand for his bikes and, therefore, he's operated year-round ever since.  When I last rented one of his bikes four years ago (almost to the week!), he made a special trip into the shop for me and one other customer who'd made a reservation. That might be the reason why he remembered me, "d'une monde different."

The bike I rode was different, too:

in contrast to the more conventional hybrid/city bike I rode four years ago.  More about that later.

Me Revoila!

You haven't heard a day-by-day description because I really filled my days there and wasn't getting back to my hotel room until the wee hours of morning.  By then, between all of the bike riding, museum and cathedral visits and socializing, I was tired, though in good ways.

Perhaps, in reading the previous sentence, you might think I shouldn't be calling this blog "Midlife Cycling" anymore.  But I'll continue to do so because, well, what else am I going to call it?  Anything with "Old" or "Senior" in the title just wouldn't have the same ring. Besides, I want to stick to "Midlife Cycling" as an act of defiance, just as I continue to speak French for as long as I can get away with it after getting home from a trip.

But I digress...and now I'll confess:  I simply wanted to spend a few days un-tethered to my electronic devices.  I didn't turn on my laptop and or answer e-mails on my smartphone unless they came from my friends in Paris or anything else related to my trip. 

I mean, when the spire of the Eiffel Tower is peering from behind l'Ecole Militaire, across the street from my hotel (the Derby Eiffel), the Seine is a five-minute walk away, and art, great food, friends and new bike lanes--real ones!--beckon, why would I want to spend time with my face in front of a screen? 

During the next few days, I'll tell you more about my trip...including, of course, where and what I rode!

Until Today, I Hated Only One Thing About France

I didn't ride this bike

as interesting as it looks.  Parked outside a boutique in the "Village Suisse" not far from where I'm staying,  it's the kind of bike that's all but impossible to find in the United States. 

 

One thing I love about it is that it's a testament to how a well-made older bike can continue to serve someone, if in a different way from how its previous owner(s) rode it.  

Just about any bike "of a certain age" will need to have its tires replaced. (I must say, though, that even a decade or so ago, I read and heard that owners of Raleigh three-speeds from the sixties or earlier will try any and all things to keep the original Dunlop tires--which, as I understand, were exclusive to Raleigh three-speeds--intact, if not ready for daily use.) Also, if the bike had caliper brakes, it will need new cables and pads.  Chains and pedals also are often damaged, worn or missing.  Finally, if the bike had a leather saddle, it might be dry-rotted or otherwise damaged from not getting the care it needed.

So it's no surprise to see new tires (or a front wheel) on this bike.  As the bike has a coaster brake and, therefore, no derailleur or other shifting mechanism, there weren't any cables to replace.  I don't know what kind saddle originally graced this machine, but it's a bit of a surprise to see something that looks like a Brooks Professional--albeit with holes punched in it--with such upright bars.

I really would have liked to ride that bike.  I mean, really, how can you not love something with a reflector like this

even if it isn't the original?

I couldn't ride this bike. (Well,  I could have, but I don't steal bikes--just lovers and spouses. ;-)) But I did get to borrow one somewhat like it--what seemed to be a French-made Dutch-style city bike--for a day.  

Unfortunately, I neglected to photograph it, but it took me along the Left and Right Banks, and up to another "date" with my friend Jay.

About Velib:  It's been a long time since I've seen a site or service so frustrating to use.  When I typed in my information--including my home address and phone number--in the requested format (phone number with country code selected from drop-down format, the area code and number without any spaces or characters that aren't numerals and my address in the air-mail format), the site "auto corrected" them to the American format:  (1 (212) 555-1212; 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, DC, 20001, FRANCE) no matter how many times I went back and corrected it. Then, when I tried to buy a pass, the site said it couldn't process my request because my phone number and address weren't in the required format--which I typed in, repeatedly.

For years, I told people that I loved Paris and France, with the exception of Charles de Gaulle Airport. (Then again, how many airports do people actually "love?") Now I can add one other thing about this city and country that I don't love--and, in this case, actually hate:  Velib Metropole, the official name of what everyone calls Velib.

 

The Clues Lead To This

Yesterday's post contained clues to today's.

Here's another clue:

Now, that bike might tell you something else about this post.  Is its subject a bike

or a place where you might find it?

No, I'm not in Hell.  I was always very quick to remind my students that they weren't, either, when I assigned a paper on the image in question--or the literary work on which it's based.

I have, however, visited one cathedral

and another:

and  didn't have to hear "I am beautiful" from Christina Aguilera. Instead, I saw it from one of my favorite artists*:

OK, so you've probably figured out that this post isn't about a bike--or any thing.  It's also not about any person--except, perhaps, me. 

So now you know you're reading about a place.  I saw this last night, when I stepped out of where I'm staying

and this, on my way back in this evening:

Yes, I am indeed in Paris.  The weather has been remarkably Spring-like, minus the sun:  Daytime temperatures have been in the 10-12C (50-55F) range.  Of course, over the next few days, they could drop so, perhaps, bringing warm clothes won't have been in vain.

It may seem odd that I could take a ten-day vacation here for less than most trips in the US. Then again, I'm travelling after the holiday, and I'm not here during the Summer, which is the normal "peak season." That meant that in September, I got a really good price on  a package that included non-stop flights between JFK and Charles de Gaulle (CDG) and a hotel just a couple of blocks from..wait for it...the Eiffel Tower.    Also, I know this city well enough not to make the mistakes, money-wise, that first-time visitors make.  And, of course, I have friends here, whom I'll see.

I didn't arrange to rent a bike, as I normally do.  For one thing, some of the rental services, which also do tours of the city, are closed for the winter. (When I came four years ago and rented a bike, the owner of the service actually made a special trip in to town to rent the bike.  Had I known that, I might not have arranged the rental.)  So, I am going to try the Velib. It will be interesting mainly because it will be my first experience with a municipal bike-share system.

However it is, I'm still in a city I love--where friends end e-mails, not with "sincerely," or "best,' but "bises."

*--Je suis belle, my favorite Rodin work and one of my favorite works of art.

Food, Fashion And...Bike Lanes?

This post will be a tale of two cities--without the capital letters. 

They have roughly the same population.  One is the capital of its nation; the other is, at least in some senses, in its country.  They could be said to be rivals because they are renowned for many of the same things:  food, fashion, finance, the arts, education and technology.

Now one of those cities is not only wants to emulate something the other has been doing; it plans to do even more of it.

I am talking about urban bike lane networks.  While Copenhagen and Amsterdam are seen, perhaps rightly, as the most bike-friendly capitals in Europe, Paris is leading the way in creating new bike infrastructure.  It plans to have 680 kilometers (423 miles) of bike lanes in the City of Light and its surrounding areas.  

Rental Bikes by the Duomo Cathedral, Milan.  Photo by Alessia Pierdomenico for Bloomberg

Well, in the city's chief rival for food and fashion--Milan--the City Council has approved a plan that will include 750 kilometers (466 miles) of lanes that will connect not only major areas of the immediate city, but also its suburbs and some rural areas.  The goal of the Cambio Biciplan is to make bicycling the "first and easiest" way of getting around Metropolitan Milan.

One of the motivations for this plan is a problem the city is trying to tackle.  Among Italian cities, only Turin has worse air pollution; both have some of the worst air quality in Europe.  The factors contributing to that toxicity are similar in both cities: population density, industrial activity and automobile density.  That pollution intensifies in winter, when temperature inversions trap pollutants in the lower atmosphere, leaving a toxic blanket of smog.  Also, I suspect that each of those cities shares a problem with Denver: the mountains that surround (Turin) or abut (Milan) those cities also trap some of the pollutants. (Denver consistently has some of the worst air quality in the US.)

So, in the near future, bike advocacy groups may well emulate fashion and culinary institutions in seeing their "capitals" as New York, Paris and Milan!

Tout A Velo In Paris

 As I said on Saturday, and in earlier posts, if any municipality is serious about getting people to ride bikes rather than drive to work or school, or for fun, building bike lanes is just one step.

And it’s a legitimate step if and only if (See what I learned in my formal logic class?) those lanes are well-designed, -constructed and -maintained—and practical.  

On that last condition:  Building bike lanes that begin  and end in seemingly-arbitrary locations, without any markers or any other indicators, serves no one.  People will give up four wheels for two if, among other things, bike lanes actually connect places people ride to and from, safely.  Of course, I don’t mean that people should have lanes directly from their front doors to their desks or work stations. But bike and pedestrian paths should make it possible to go from, say, a central point in a residential neighborhood to a business or cultural district in the way of good mass transit systems—like, say, the one in Paris.

Photo by Ludivic Marin, for Agence France Presse

Apparently, the City of Light’s Mayor, Anne Hidalgo, has such a vision.  She won a second term last June on a platform that included making Paris a city “tout á velo”—totally cycleable—by 2026. To that end, the French capital is investing 250 million Euros to improve its cycling infrastructure.  

Among other things, 52 km (about 32 miles) of “coronapistes”—temporary lanes created during the pandemic—will be upgraded and made permanent. To that, another 130 km will be added to the existing 100 km.  These additions and upgrades will make it possible to cycle from one end to another, and to and from key locations, within the city as well as in the adjacent suburbs.Even more important, those lanes will be planned to make it safer for cyclists to cross intersections, thus addressing another concern of people who say they’d consider cycle commuting but worry about safety.

Hidalgo’s plan will also address another concern—bike theft—by adding 100,000 new secure parking spaces, including 1000 for cargo bikes.